Page 111 of That Rush

Paige watches it all from beside me, her gaze moving around the table. No one asks for help. Food and napkins appear. A spill is handled, chicken is cut, rolls are remembered from the kitchen. This is family: a dozen small gestures that mean no one has to carry the weight alone.

Dad points his fork toward Paige. “You should know Aiden wasn’t always this organized.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“He used to make schedules for the three of them,” Mom says. “Adrienne ignored hers, Axel lost his, and Aiden followed everyone around explaining where they were supposed to be.”

“I was the only responsible one.”

“You were seven,” Adrienne says.

“And responsible.”

Axel reaches for his water at the same time I do. Adrienne picks up hers without looking, all three glasses lifting together.

Paige stares at us. “That was unsettling.”

Dad grins. “We stopped buying matching cups because they still fought over the same one.”

“Adrienne bit me over the blue cup,” Axel says.

“You tried to steal it.”

“It was mine.”

“It was plastic.” I drain my water glass. “And we had six.”

Adrienne points at me. “You cried.”

“You bit me too.”

Scotty looks across the table at his wife. “I’m learning a lot tonight.”

“You knew I had brothers.”

“I didn’t know you treated them as emergency food.”

Paige laughs hard enough to lean into my shoulder. I kiss her temple without weighing whether the affection is too public. She tilts her face toward mine, smiling, and her hand settles on my thigh beneath the table.

Dad notices because Dad notices everything.

He wisely turns his attention to Silas.

Conversation shifts to the library’s summer program when Poppy asks Paige whether the reading challenge includes graphic novels.

“Graphic novels count as reading,” Paige says. “Audiobooks count too.”

Poppy brightens. “Mom said they did.”

“Your mom is right.”

Sadie lifts her glass. “I’d like that entered into the official record.”

“Careful,” Adrienne says. “Agree with Sadie once and we’ll expect you at every family argument. You’re family now. You have voting responsibilities.”

Paige’s fingers still against my leg. The change is slight, but I catch it.

“She said yes to dinner,” I say. “Don’t assign her a position.”