I freeze.
The cold trailing in behind me snakes its way under my leather jacket, but that’s not what’s got me locked in place. It’s thewayshe’s looking at me—like I’m a ghost the wind dragged in with it.
Over Penny’s shoulder, Fia’s wide, doe-eyed stare darts between us, and all I can do is let out a gravelly chuckle, thin and dry, because it feels like someone just punched the air clean out of my lungs.
The last time all three of us stood in this kitchen together, Fia was eleven years old and I was a tall, gawky eighteen-year-old with no goddamn clue where I belonged in the world. I was just a lost kid who got taken in by a kind family.
“Hey,” I say to Penny, nodding once. What do you even say to someone you haven’t laid eyes on for ten years? What can I say without immediately opening every floodgate?
My gaze drops to her mouth, stuck on her lips that are still too full, too soft, too much, but I catch myself. This isn’t my best friend I used to steal kisses from in this very kitchen.
That version of us is long gone.
She spins her body around so fast her blonde ponytail whips through the air—no doubt shooting daggers at her sister, who appears more ghostly than normal.
Fia clears her throat. “I’ve been trying to reach you for twenty-four hours, Jesse. Where the heck have you been?” There’s a playful lilt to her voice, but her face readspanic.
It’s still strange seeing her like this—grown. I’ve been here for two weeks now, but it still reminds me of how long I’ve been gone. I mean,fuck, just seeing her pregnant has me messed up too. She’s like my little sister for all intents and purposes.
I’ve spent the better half of the last decade not being needed by anyone, not having to answer to a soul. No one’s checking in on me. So it’s a bit jarring to suddenly have someone needing to know my whereabouts. It’s going to take some getting used to.
I click the door shut behind me, fully stepping into the kitchen, and shift around Penny’s rigid body, not missing the way her breath catches as I do.
“Sorry,” I mutter, scratching my jaw. “I stayed out late last night and left early this morning. My phone died sometime yesterday.”
“Well, it’s too late anyway.” Fia exhales. “I was just trying to give you a heads up that Penny was coming.” The corners of her mouth twitch, and she hesitates. “You know…beforethe happy reunion.”
Penny lets out a frustrated grunt. The same one she used to make before slamming her bedroom door in Danny’s face when we were all sixteen, under one roof.
“Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on?” Her voice cuts through the chill air, and Fia and I both stumble over our explanations, but mine’s louder.
“I’m crashing here for a while. Thought you were made aware.” It comes out clipped, unintentionally harsh. I can only imagine what thoughts are spiraling in Penny’s head right now. Her stiff body and tense face say she wants to throttle my throat.
Penny was always a firecracker, someone who is unapologetically themselves. It’s why I fucking loved her in the first place.
A lifetime ago.
Her attention snaps to her sister. “You couldn’t find a nice girl your age to be your roommate? You had to choosehim?”
Fia flinches but doesn’t push back. This isn’t thehappyreunion she’d pictured. And I don’t want to be the reason for a fight.
“Listen, I’ll leave,” I say, raising both hands in surrender. “I just need to grab Tank’s food.”
“No!” Fia crosses her arms, her voice sharp with emotion. “Please stay, Jesse. This is your home, too.” She turns to Penny, frustrated. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Me not living here alone? Look, I solved it.”
Penny draws a breath sharp enough to cut, and I feel like I’ve stepped into an interrogation room with no exit.
“He used to live here, Penny!” Fia’s voice cracks, full of disbelief. “I thought you’d behappyI didn’t invite some random axe murderer to crash in the guest room!”
Penny jams her glossy pink fingernails into her temples. “You should’ve talked to me before you did this.” Her voice comes out tight.
Fia blinks, thrown.
They’re both talking like I’m not six feet away, so I inch toward the pantry, grabbing my dog’s water bowl and food bin.
Fia moves quickly, reaching for the bin. “You’re not leaving.”
“And you’re not grabbing forty pounds of kibble when you’re pregnant.” I hoist it over my shoulder, out of reach.
