Chapter 34
BECK
Alyssa is sitting cross-legged on the patio bench, her doll collection spread out in front of her and Sophie’s perched beside her, chin propped in her hand, listening intently as Alyssa explains which doll is the “teacher” and which one has “magical ice powers.”
It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just Alyssa and her dolls. But watching Sophie let a five-year-old that she just met, braid her hair while nodding seriously about doll storylines like it’s the most important conversation in the world…
It does something to me. It puts a warmth in my chest that I’ve never experienced, even with Angela. Something about seeing her with my family just feels…right.
The soft backyard lights catch in her hair, turning it gold around the edges, and Alyssa keeps leaning closer like she’s known Sophie forever.
Joey’s at the other end of the table, dunking French fries into ketchup like it’s a competitive sport, and Dad is halfway through a second burger, humming along with whatever classic rock song is playing through the speaker.
She’s great with kids, that’s for sure. It’s evident that she’s someone who truly loves being around them, and I’m sure that carries through when she’s volunteering every week at the foster center too.
And me? I’m just sitting here, trying not to make it too obvious that I’m staring.
Caroline slides into the chair next to me and follows my line of sight for all of two seconds before her mouth tilts into a knowing smile.
“You’re looking at her the way your dad looks at the nacho cheese at Taco Bell,” she murmurs.
I huff out a laugh, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Subtle.”
She bumps her shoulder lightly against mine. “I’m just saying…she seems like a lovely girl.”
“She is,” I say before I can think better of it. The words come out low, almost like I’m admitting a secret to myself.
Caroline doesn’t push. She just gives me that soft, maternal look she’s perfected over the years. The one that says she sees right through me, but she’s not going to make me squirm. “I’m glad you brought her,” she says gently. “It’s good to see you…letting someone in again.”
My throat goes a little tight. I take a sip of water just to give my hands something to do.
Dad joins us a minute later, sliding into the chair on my other side. “Kids are wired,” he says, watching Joey try to teach Alyssa how to throw a football. “Must’ve been all that ice cream for dessert.”
Caroline smirks. “That’s on you.”
I let them banter for a moment, but the weight of what happened earlier in the day has been sitting in the back of my mind since we got here. I clear my throat. “We…uh, went and saw my mom today.”
Caroline’s expression softens immediately, but it’s my dad who looks at me first, brow furrowing slightly. “And you took Sophie?”
I nod.
He lets out a slow breath, nodding once like the answer means more than it sounds. “That’s big, son.”
Yeah. It is.
Caroline reaches over and rests her hand lightly over mine, giving it a slight squeeze. “How was she?”
“She was okay,” I say quietly. “But that shifted pretty quickly. Seemed like she wasn’t having a great day, so we didn’t stay long.”
Neither of them tries to fill the silence with empty comfort. That’s one of the reasons I’m grateful for them—they know when to talk, and when to just…be there.
Across the yard, Alyssa giggles as Sophie dramatically voices one of the dolls. The sound drifts through the warm night air, softening something in my chest I didn’t realize had gone rigid after talking about my mom.
Dad and Caroline don’t press after that. They just nod, and the conversation drifts into easy territory again—Caroline mentioning something about Joey’s school project, Dad cracking a joke about Alyssa’s newfound obsession with pink glitter that somehow ended up all over the carpet in her bedroom.
It’s late enough now that the kids are starting to fade; Joey’s got that wild, overtired look in his eyes, and Alyssa is now curled up on the porch swing beside Sophie, still clutching one of her dolls but starting to lose the battle with sleep.
Sophie notices the time on her phone and rises slowly. “I hate to say it, but we should probably get going,” she says, brushing her hands against her jeans.
Caroline stands immediately and pulls her into another hug. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart,” she says warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thank you for having me,” Sophie replies with a soft smile.
Dad is finishing wiping down the grill, but he turns and points his scrubber in my direction. “Don’t let him talk you into country music on the way back,” he says.
I groan. “Dad—”
Sophie laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll make sure to take control of the playlist.”
Joey trudges over, yawning mid-wave. “Bye, Sophie,” he mumbles before disappearing inside at Caroline’s gentle herding.
Alyssa lingers. She toddles up to Sophie, holding her doll tight in one arm, and stares up at her like she’s working up to something big.
“Will you come back and play again?” she asks in a tiny, serious voice.
Sophie crouches down so they’re eye level. “I’d love to,” she says. “But only if you promise to show me the rest of your dolls next time.”
Alyssa’s whole face lights up. She sticks out her pinky without hesitation. Sophie hooks hers with it, solemn as if they’ve just struck the most important deal in the world.
“Promise,” Alyssa whispers.
“Promise,” Sophie echoes.
Caroline catches my eye over their heads. She doesn’t say a word, just gives me this quiet, knowing smile that settles somewhere deep in my chest.
I clear my throat. “Ready?”
Sophie nods, and we make our way toward the truck. Caroline calls after us, “Drive safe!” Alyssa waves from the porch, still holding her doll.
We wave one last time before heading down the walkway. The night air is warm but not sticky, the noise of cicadas buzzing in the distance. Sophie walks a little closer than she did on the way in, our shoulders brushing every few steps.
“That was…” she starts, glancing up at me with a small smile.
“Chaotic?” I offer.
She laughs. “Yeah. But in the best way. Your family’s great, Beck.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, looking ahead.
“They’re…a lot,” I say, echoing what I told her earlier.
But there’s no edge in my voice now. Just quiet affection.
“Caroline’s the glue. My dad would be the guy grilling in a thunderstorm just to prove a point.
Joey never stops talking, and Alyssa—” I shake my head with a half smile.
“She’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. ”
Sophie bumps her shoulder lightly against mine. “I can see why.”
We reach the truck, and I move ahead to pull the passenger door open for her. She pauses before climbing in, looking up at me under the warm glow of the porch light spilling from the house.
“Thanks for bringing me tonight,” she says.
I rest my hand on the doorframe, meeting her eyes. “Thanks for coming.”
For a beat, neither of us moves. Her hair’s a little mussed from Alyssa’s braiding attempts, and she’s got faint traces of glitter still lingering on her cheek, but I don’t say anything about it.
I just take the moment in.
She slides into the seat, and I shut the door gently behind her before rounding to the driver’s side.
On the drive back to campus, I keep catching myself glancing over at her. At the way her mouth tilts up slightly when we pass the little diner just off campus. At the glitter still clinging to her cheek and the way the soft glow of the dashboard light picks up the gold strands in her hair.
She doesn’t notice. Or maybe she does and pretends not to.
When I pull into the dorm parking lot, the world feels quieter than when we left. A few straggling students cross the sidewalks, but it’s mostly still. I kill the engine and climb out, circling around to her side before she can protest.
I pull the door open, and she gives me that look—half teasing, half something softer. “You know,” she says, sliding out of the seat and grabbing her bag from the floorboard, “you don’t have to do the whole walk-me-to-the-door thing. No one’s around to see it.”
I reach for her hand without really thinking, my fingers finding hers easily. “Yeah,” I say, locking the truck. “I know.”
She glances down at our joined hands, eyebrows lifting slightly, but she doesn’t let go.
We walk across the lot toward the dorms, the sound of our shoes against the pavement echoing in the still night. When we reach the short flight of steps leading up to her building, I slow, then stop beside one of the stone pillars that frame the entrance.
She turns to me, amusement flickering in her eyes. “What?”
I lean a shoulder against the pillar, still holding her hand, my thumb tracing absent circles against her skin. “You really think I’ve been playing fake these last few days?”
The teasing edge in her expression falters just a little, like she wasn’t expecting the question. Her lips part, but for a beat, no sound comes out.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers shift slightly in mine, not pulling away, just fidgeting like she’s caught between joking back and actually saying something real.
I blow out a slow breath and look down at our hands before meeting her eyes again. “Because it hasn’t felt fake to me,” I say, voice low. “Not any of it.”
The corner of her mouth twitches like she wants to deflect, but I keep going before she can. “I definitely wouldn’t have kissed you Friday night if this was fake. That…definitely wasn’t part of any deal.”
Her expression softens, the teasing gone now, replaced by something quieter. Something that makes my chest feel too tight.
“I haven’t kissed anyone in over a year. I’ve kissed one girl in my entire life, and I don’t take that lightly,” I admit, hoping I don’t say the wrong thing and scare her away. “I don’t know where any of this is going, but I’d like to find out.”
The words hang there between us, heavier than the warm night air. For a second, neither of us moves. She’s looking up at me like she’s trying to decide whether to run or lean in closer.
I shift my weight against the pillar, thumb still tracing slow, nervous circles against her skin. “I just…need you to be patient with me.”
Her brows knit slightly, but not in confusion—in that soft, focused way she has when she’s actually listening.
“I’m still trying to figure out how to let myself…” I pause, searching for the right words. “Feel things again. It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone close enough for it to matter. And I’m working on it. On trusting you. On letting you in more.”
The night is quiet around us, nothing but the distant hum of traffic and the low chirp of crickets. Her eyes don’t waver, and the way she’s looking at me makes something in my chest relax.
“I’m not perfect at it,” I finish softly. “But I’m trying. And I just…I need you to know that.”
For a second, she just stands there, looking up at me with that searching gaze that always makes me feel like she can see straight through the walls I’m still learning to lower.
Then she shifts closer, her hand tightening around mine. Slowly, she rises onto her tiptoes, her other hand brushing lightly against my chest for balance. The move is soft, deliberate—like she’s giving me every chance to pull away.
I don’t.
Her lips press against mine in a gentle kiss that steals the breath right out of my lungs. It’s not rushed or frantic or heated. It’s real. The kind of kiss that says exactly what words can’t.
When she pulls back, her eyes are warm and clear in the glow of the dorm lights.
“I haven’t been faking either,” she says softly.
For a heartbeat, everything goes quiet—no campus noises, no buzzing lights—just her standing in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. My chest feels lighter than it has in a long time.
I clear my throat, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “C’mon,” I say softly. “Let’s get you to your room.”
She nods, still holding my hand as we climb the steps the rest of the way. The dorm’s entry light spills across the walkway. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. We don’t need to.
When we reach her door, she turns to face me, that soft, searching look still in her eyes. I lean in, closing the small gap between us, and kiss her again—slow and sure. Her fingers brush lightly against my chest, like she’s memorizing the moment.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead briefly against hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur.
She smiles, quiet and warm. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
I take a step back, hands shoved into my pockets, giving her one last look before turning to head down the hall. I’ve barely reached the front doors when a muffled squeal echoes faintly from behind me, followed by the sound of her door closing.
My grin breaks free as I push through the doors and into the night.
Sophie Prescott was never part of my future plan, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s what I’ve been missing all along.