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Reid reaches across the table and steals another sausage from my plate. I slap his hand a second too late, and he grins at me around it.
A memory surfaces of Reid stealing food off my plate when we were teenagers because he always finished his first. Me threatening to stab him with a fork. Him doing it again five minutes later.
We don’t talk about the missed years every time we’re together. At first, I thought we would have to. That there would be some point when we sat down and excavated every bad decision, every missed birthday, every Christmas, every time he searched for me, and every time I made sure he couldn’t find me.
We’ve talked about some of it. We’ll talk about more. But mostly, we’re doing this: breakfast, insults, and stolen sausages. Sunday dinner at his place last week. Him helping me take down the dividing fence between number twelve and number fourteen yesterday.
Turns out you can rebuild something without spending every second staring at where it broke.
Scarlett pushes herself carefully out of the booth. “Bathroom.”
Reid is halfway to his feet before she gives him a look.
“I can pee by myself.” She kisses the top of his head as she passes.
Alice watches her go, then looks down at Lyra. “I remember that stage.”
Gordy turns his head. “You peed a lot.”
Alice stares at him. “You say the sweetest things.”
He looks genuinely confused.
Nora laughs so hard that she nearly spills her coffee. I catch the mug before it tips, and her eyes meet mine. She smiles that same beautiful smile she gave Screaming Woods the morning she arrived, only this time, it’s directed at me.
Love you.
Warmth spreads through the bond.
I brush my thumb across her knuckles. Love you too.
Her eyes widen slightly because I don’t manage words through the bond as often as she does.
“Show off,” she murmurs.
By the time we leave the diner, it’s after nine, and I haven’t looked at the clock once.
Outside, Nightjar Row is busy. Lucky Bean has a line out the door, and Melinda’s chalkboard claims DECAF IS JUST COFFEE WITH TRUST ISSUES.
Mrs. Marrow lifts a hand from across the street. I lift mine in response. It still takes effort sometimes. Not the waving. The staying. Being seen. Letting people know where I am and trusting that nothing terrible will happen because of it.
Some nights, I still wake with my heart pounding because I dreamed about bones breaking and white fur and Reid screaming my name.
Sometimes, the wolf gets restless, and the old fear rises before I can stop it.
But now I know what comes after. Nora’s hand reaching for mine. My brother answering the phone. A town full of people who mostly figured out years ago that I wasn’t nearly as frightening as I wanted them to think I was.
Nora bumps her shoulder against mine as we turn toward home. “You know Reid is going to knock through that second wall whether you’re there or not.”
“He touches it without me, I’ll break his hands.”
“He’s a wolf. They’ll heal.”
“I’ll break them again.”
“Healthy sibling communication. I’m so proud.”
Our cottages come into view at the end of the street—or what used to be two cottages. The fence between them is gone now. Reid and I pulled out the last posts yesterday while Nora and Scarlett sat on the grass offering unhelpful advice.
