Page 36 of Sparks Fly

“She’s different,” I said after a moment. “Not flashy. Not loud. She listens. Like actually listens. And I listen to her. She tells me stuff.” I paused. “And I want to be a place where she can just—relax and be herself. It seems like she does everything for everyone.”

Benji nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s been holding everyone together for a long time.”

“Yeah she told me.”

“She did?” He asked.

I nodded “She told me she knew you were her brother before you said it.”

Benji paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth before setting it down carefully. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I always knew she knew. She just let me be me. Even as young kids.”

“You’ve got a good sister,” I told him.

His gaze sharpened, protective but not hostile. “Don’t mess with her,” he said.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t” I replied immediately. “That’s not what this is.”

Something in his shoulders softened. He nodded once, and the conversation ended there. We talked about work and his life after that. And I felt like he got that I was really starting to care about her.

* * *

By lunch, my arms ached and my shirt clung to me, but it was the good kind of tired. I sat out back on the metal steps with leftover pasta and scrolled through my phone.

There were no posts from Addison.

Which was fine. The real stuff didn’t live on Instagram anyway.

At 1:13, my phone buzzed.

Addison: Back-to-back showings again. Just spilled iced coffee on myself like a gremlin. Please tell me you’re winning today.

I smiled immediately and typed back while balancing the container on my knee.

Me: Benji almost welded his glove to the railing, so you’re still winning the Hart elegance points.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Addison: I screamed internally and kept talking. Very professional.

I leaned back against the step railing before answering.

Me: That’s impressive restraint.

A laughing emoji appeared on the screen a moment later. It shouldn’t have done as much to me as it did, but it did.

The afternoon blurred after that. The radio crackled with classic rock until I shut it off and stuck with my own playlist. Around five I wiped down my bench and rolled my neck until it popped.

My phone buzzed again.

Vic: Drinks? Nina’s in town. Patio bar. No pressure.

Normally I would have said yes. Vic was chaos in human form, and Nina meant stories.

Tonight, though, noise sounded exhausting.

Me: Rain check. Long day.

Vic: Lame. But fine. Don’t let Sunshine steal you completely.