Page 20 of Canned & Coated

“You don’t know that.”

“What are y’all talking about?” Tanner’s voice cuts in from a few feet away.

I jerk back like I’ve been burned, snatching my hand away and grabbing the knife again. I focus hard on the cutting board, on the rhythm, on anything that isn’t the heat burning me up from the inside.

Milo swivels. “Relationship things. Find the bug spray?”

“I did,” Tanner says, holding up a can.

I can’t help but grin. “See? Told you we packed it. Milo thought we left it at home.”

“I said it was possible,” Milo shoots back. “You panic-pack.”

“I prepare,” I correct.

Tanner’s eyes catch mine at that, and there it is again. Something alive. Something quick and quiet that no one else would clock unless they were looking for it.

His eyebrow quirks. “What kind of relationship things?”

“Oh…” Milo stretches the word, all fake innocence. “You know. Thrilling stuff. Joint bank accounts.”

“Insurance premiums,” I add, chopping a little faster than necessary.

“Whether the gutters need cleaning before winter.”

Tanner slides onto the bench across from me, his knee knocking into mine under the table. It lingers half a second too long to be accidental. “Right. All that adult shit you two have figured out.”

“Exactly,” Milo says, tapping the table. “Boring stability. Not everyone can live out of their car like some kind of…”

Tanner reaches across me, arm brushing my chest, heat and pine and sweat flooding my senses as he snags a carrot. “Good thing I don’t.”

My knife pauses mid-cut. “Don’t what?”

“Live out of my car.” His eyes find mine again.

“Course you do…”

“Nope.” Something shifts in his expression. “Not anymore.”

I suddenly can’t get a full breath, and I don’t entirely know why.

Tanner reaches across the table, his hand landing on my forearm, stopping my knife mid-chop. His thumb moves once, barely there, and my whole body lights up.

Milo’s watching. His throat works as he swallows, and I catch the way his pupils widen, drinking everything in.

I drop my gaze to the cutting board. There’s a small mountain of diced onion. When did that happen?

“I moved home a few weeks ago,” Tanner says, hand still on my arm. “I’m tired of the road. I want something… stable.”

“What does that look like for you?” Milo asks, leaning forward, voice a little too even.

“I don’t know.” Tanner shrugs. “I guess it could be whatever I want. Stability looks different on everyone.”

“So you’re back with your parents,” I manage.

“For now.” His mouth tilts up at one corner. “Wanted to tell you in person. A surprise.”

I try to find something normal to say. Something adult. “That’s, um… wow. Congratulations?”