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Cameron and I drove Deen up to the beach at Lake Erie last weekend while the movers did their thing. We made the round trip in a day, and it was perfect. She splashed around a bit, we got ice cream, and all of us belted out Taylor Swift songs on the drive home.

Home, for me, means the house by Riverview Park, where Puck keeps watch over his new screened-in catio, and where Cameron restocked his shelves to include my sister’s favorite historical romance novel. That’s how I already knew about the Whiskey Rebellion, but I don’t tell this to Ducky.

A day trip to the beach might not sound like anything special, but it took a lot of work for me to accept it as a success. I felt like I needed a beach trip for the summer to be real, and Cameron helped me figure out a way to get that. It was a chill day with my boyfriend and my sister, and maybe it wasn’t what some people would call a killer vacation, but for me it was perfect.

And Cameron is doing amazing, finding his own peace. He got a call from his brother while he was midway through spreading sunscreen on my back, and he let it go to voicemail. He didn’t respond until he was settled in a chair on the catio with Puck.

“BB, you coming out tonight for fireworks after the Hot Metal play?” Tate and Cleo bought out an entire section at the women’s soccer game, but I decline with a small smile.

I’m about to tell them my plans when my giant boyfriend walks into the restaurant. “Hey, gals. Looking beautiful as always.” He kisses my cheek and settles beside me on the bench. “Flights are on time.”

I smile at Ducky as Tate and Cleo groan in feigned disgust. “Cameron’s parents land in an hour,” I tell them. “We’re picking them up.”

Cameron steals a meatball and moans. “We should get some of these to go. Ma will love these.”

I arch a brow at Cameron because his mother never willingly admits she enjoys any food she didn’t cook herself. He laughs. “Maybe love is a stretch. But miracles do happen.” Cameron’s arm settles around my shoulders as my friends plan their soccer match takeover. I’m pretty sure they have a bunch of Cameron’s teammates sitting with them, since one of the Stag guys has a girlfriend on the team.

The conversation ends when the restaurant door opens and Rookie stomps in, looking like he’s been caught cheering for Columbus. Cleo points a fork at him. “What are you doing in town?”

He runs a hand through his hair. I know his sister and Howie are in Italy for a month. She’s working on a traveling nurse project, and Howie is supposedly working on his dad bod. Rookie’s eyes dart around the room and connect with Cameron’s. “I’m just picking up food.” He purses his lips. “Do you guys know if they use latex gloves in the kitchen here?”

Tate recoils. Ducky shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

Cameron frowns. “I don’t know, Rook. Did you ask⁠—”

Rookie plows toward the kitchen, shoving open the swinging door to reveal Spinner, who leaps back from Gianna at the stove. Cameron’s face shift to suspicion as Rookie blurts, “Yo, G, is there any⁠—”

Gianna rolls her eyes. “We don’t use latex, Jason. I already told you that when you called. Twice.”

“Chill. I just wanted to confirm."

"Okay well, asked and answered." She gives him a look. "Anything else?"

"Is there avocado in the goddess dressing?"

"It's a tahini base. I sent you the ingredient list."

"Right. Okay. Good." He picks up his order, then turns to find a room of professional hockey players staring at him.

"What?" he says.

"Since when," Ducky says slowly, "do you care about latex gloves and ingredients?”

Rookie shifts the bag to his other hand. "Since when is it a crime to look out for a friend and her health needs?"

Her. Cameron's mouth opens. I grab his arm under the table — not hard, just a firm squeeze that says don't. He closes his mouth.

"I think it's really nice," I say, "that you're paying attention to details like that."

Rookie looks surprised, like he was expecting mockery. "Thanks, BB." He adjusts the bag. "I gotta go."

He leaves and Ducky puts down her fork. "Did I just see⁠—"

"Yep," Tate says.

“And Spinner was…”

Cameron is looking at me with his mouth pressed into a line that is trying very hard not to smile. “Boundaries,” he says.