Page 36 of Wild Thorns

"I'm the tenant."

"From Atlanta."

"Originally."

"Running from something."

I stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"People who move to Magnolia Creek are usually running from something." He shrugged, muscles shifting under his shirt. "Not judging. Just observing."

"That's a lot of observing for someone who just met me."

"I keep my eyes open."

“There’s a whole lot of ‘paying attention’ that happens in this town.”

A flicker of approval crossed his face. "You push back. Good. These fellas need someone who pushes back."

"I'm—I'm just a guest."

He laughed. It was a surprisingly warm sound, at odds with his intimidating exterior. " And I'm just a mechanic."

Before I could ask what that meant, Rowena was piling more food on my plate, and the moment passed.

Dinner was an experience.

The food kept coming: roast chicken, three kinds of vegetables, fresh bread, some kind of rice dish that made me want to weep with gratitude. The conversation flowed around me like a river. I learned that Dex had grown up with the triplets, that he’d been coming to Sunday dinners since he was twelve, that Rowena considered him her “fourth son, whether he likes it or not.”

I caught Rowena watching her sons at one point—all three of them laughing at something Dex had said—and the look on her face wasn’t just maternal pride. There was grief in it. The kind of grief that comes from knowing exactly what your choices cost, and choosing to pay anyway. She caught me looking and smiled, but the sadness lingered at the edges, old and familiar, like a scar she’d stopped trying to hide.

“She fed me when my own mother forgot to,” Dex said, and there was something in his voice that made the words land heavier than they should have. “Been stuck with this family ever since.”

“Stuck,” Jasper scoffed. “You love us and you know it.”

“I tolerate you. There’s a difference.”

“He cried at my graduation,” Jasper told me conspiratorially. “Actual tears.”

“I had allergies.”

“In December.”

“Seasonal allergies are year-round for some people.”

I found myself laughing, really laughing, at their bickering. It reminded me of something I’d lost a long time ago, before Marcus, before everything got complicated. The easy warmth of people who knew each other so well they could argue without any real heat.

Callum caught my eye across the table. He didn’t say anything, he rarely did, but something in his expression softened when he saw me laughing. Like my happiness mattered to him. Like he’d been waiting for it.

I looked away quickly, my cheeks warm.

After dinner, I found myself on the porch with Dex while the others cleaned up inside. He'd produced a beer from somewhere and was drinking it with the air of a man who had nowhere else to be.

The night was warm, thick with the smell of magnolia and something else—the wild, green scent of the preserve. Lightning bugs flickered in the darkness, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the low hum of insects. It should have been peaceful.

Instead, I felt like I was sitting next to a loaded weapon.

“You’re not what I expected,” Dex said after a long silence.