Page 76 of Aviatrix

“Premarital relations?” Willa repeats innocently. “Coitus. Copulation. Intercourse.”

“Cut it out,” Eli gripes, dragging a hand down his face.

Usually, he’s the one causing the dramatic groans. The fact that it’s his cousin flipping the script makes this so much better.

“We’re going to find Aunt Lise,” he grumbles, clearly desperate for an exit. He reaches for my hand, but Willa catches it immediately and raises a sharp eyebrow. Eli hesitates, his fingers twitching, then drops his arm back to his side.

She smirks knowingly and spins on her heel, leading the way through the little farmhouse. The walls are a soft white, the wood baseboards worn from age. The air smells like fresh bread and clean laundry. Every inch of wall space is covered in framed photographs. Yellow curtains with tiny lemons brighten the kitchen window. It’s warm and lived-in, like the kind of place where everyone remembers your birthday and there’s always a pitcher of sweet tea waiting.

I want to slow down, take it all in. To memorize the way Eli’s world feels. But they’re moving too fast, and I haven’t earned the right to stand still here.

The screen door creaks open, and then slams behind me as I step onto the back porch. The wooden slats are scuffed and chipped, the white paint peeling, but they’re solid under my feet.

“Auntie Lise!” Willa calls out from the top step. “The prodigal son has returned!”

Eli groans again, louder this time.

A woman pops her head up. Her gray hair falls down past her shoulders as she stands and waves, her smile as bright as the sun.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Aunt Lise screeches, her voice thick with joy. “You’re here? You’re really here?”

She peels off her gloves and tosses them onto the grass as she strides toward us, long limbs tanned and strong.

When she reaches Eli, she wraps him in a fierce hug. She’s nearly as tall as he is, and I watch as her bright green eyes scan his face. “You need to eat more pie. You’re too thin.”

A soft laugh escapes me just as her gaze shifts to me. The corners of her eyes crinkle.

“And who is this?”

I make one mistake. Just one. I glance at Eli. That’s all it takes for Aunt Lise to jump to the wrong conclusion.

“No,” she drawls slowly. “Your girlfriend?”

Eli shakes his head. “Just an old friend from the Academy. This is Captain Kinley Quay.”

Old friend. I’m the one who made up the lie. He’s just echoing it, keeping things simple and safe. Protecting the people he loves. But part of me wishes I was more. That I meant to him what he meant to me. My first love. Eli’s always been more than that, though. In a lot of ways, our relationship has carried both of us through some dark and stormy seasons, even if he couldn’t stay.

“Ah,” Aunt Lise says, cutting through the quiet storm in my head. “An old friend, huh?”

Something tells me she sees more than she lets on.

“Well,” she says, her smile wide, “you picked the perfect day to drop in. I’m making fried chicken and potato salad for supper. Eli’s favorite.”

“It’s almost like you had a sixth sense I’d be showing up,” he says.

“My backside started aching the moment I got out of bed this morning.” She lifts a brow. “I just knew my favorite pain in the ass was on his way.”

The laugh bursts out of me, sudden and whole. It shakes my shoulders, loosening something I didn’t realize I’d been holding so tight.

“Come on,” Aunt Lise says, hooking an arm through Eli’s. “Let’s get a pot of coffee going and catch up.”

I follow Eli and his aunt inside, wondering if I’m intruding on something sacred. A family reunion after a year apart. A moment I have no rightful claim to.

Still, I’m glad I’m here. I’m grateful I get to meet the people he loves most in the world.

“Uncle Rod should be home soon,” Aunt Lise says as she scoops grounds from a bright yellow bag into the old coffee pot. “He’s been trying to get that tractor running for weeks now, Eli. You might want to take a look at it.”

“I’ll get to it before I leave,” he replies, pulling out one of the chairs at the worn, wooden kitchen table. He gestures for me to sit in it, then slides into the seat beside me. His thigh brushes mine, warm and steady, and that small point of contact says more than if he’d reached for my hand.