12. If the shoe fits #3
Then he moves on, clapping Evan once on the shoulder before circling back to critique Mason’s grill technique, which Mason loudly pretends not to care about.
I glance around the table and realize I’m not hovering at the edge of this group. I’m not waiting for the subtle shift that tells me I’ve overstayed, or bracing for veiled comments.
I’ve been pulled into the middle of it.
Sitting at a long table, with smoke in the air and kids running in circles and someone arguing about grill technique, with a plate in front of me that I didn’t have to ask for.
They’ve made room for me here, and that realization eases something in my chest almost as much as the attention of the man sitting next to me.
Colt reaches past me to steal something off Evan’s plate, and they start bickering over it like brothers.
Frankie is holding Zela and talking to her in a high-pitched sweet voice, while Mason pretends not to watch.
Luke’s half-smiling into his beer like he’s seen this exact scenario a hundred times before, and Remi wipes sauce off Max’s chin with a napkin when he darts past her.
Elle barrels after him with her hair coming loose and her cheeks pink from laughing.
It’s only when the sugar crash hits with the kids start to fray at the edges that afternoon starts to shift. The guys are off having a quick word with Rhodes, and Remi is getting Zela settled into her car seat when Elle reappears at my side.
“Where’s Pengie?” she asks, looking down and scanning the table.
I glance over the plates and napkins. “Wasn’t he with you?”
“He was here.” Her little brow furrows, and then she ducks to check under the table. “Pengie?”
Max immediately joins in. “PENGIE.”
“Where did you have him last?” I ask gently.
“He was here,” she repeats, panic creeping in.
I scan the table again, then under the chairs. Nothing.
“I’ll find him,” I say quickly before her lip can wobble. “Stay with Remi and Frankie.”
“I’ll help!” Max declares.
“You’ll help by staying put,” Remi says firmly, catching him by the back of his shirt before he can bolt.
I weave between tables, checking under chairs and near the grill before making my way deeper into the apparatus bay. I’m halfway around Engine One when I spot him perched on the bumper step, slightly askew as though he got distracted mid-adventure.
Relief floods through me, and I step toward the truck, reaching up to grab him.
“There you are,” I murmur, stepping closer to reach for him.
My sneaker skids against the concrete before I can catch my balance, and a startled sound tears out of me as a hand clamps around my waist.
“I got you.”
His voice is low and close to my ear, and my entire body stills. Evan’s palm presses warm and sure against my side, fingers spanning my hip, and I pretend I’m not imagining what it’d feel like with less fabric between us.
“You weren’t joking about not letting me fall, huh.”
His breath huffs warm against the back of my neck. “I keep my promises.”
Me too.
I grab Pengie and straighten slowly, but I don’t turn right away. Not when his chest is still close to my back. Not when his hand hasn’t quite left my waist.
“You following me now, too?”
“When I came back, you weren’t there,” he says simply. “So I came looking.”
I turn, and he remains closer than he needs to be. The bay is dimmer here, the noise from the tables softened by the truck and metal.
“She was about to spiral,” I say quietly, gesturing to the penguin in my hand.
“I believe it.”
His hand hasn’t moved yet, and his thumb shifts once against my side before he seems to realize what he’s doing.
Behind us, Mason’s voice carries faintly over the top of the truck.
“If you two are making out over there, you don’t get leftovers!”
Evan closes his eyes briefly, and I huff a laugh, because the tension is too thick to do anything else with. His eyes open again, and warm hazel dances between mine, before he finally steps back to create just enough space for my pulse to level out.
We walk back toward the table together, side by side, and Elle spots Pengie in my hands immediately.
“You found him!”
“Engine One tried to recruit him,” I tell her. “He declined.”
Evan snorts softly beside me, and I notice Frankie biting her lip to keep from smiling. Remi looks deeply entertained, and Colt just shakes his head.
“Alright,” Remi says, clapping her hands to snap back to reality. “Time to wrangle small humans before someone melts down.”
“Not me,” Max declares immediately.
“Yes, you, in five minutes,” she replies calmly. “Go say bye to Grandpa.”
Elle yawns right on cue, clutching Pengie tighter as she leans into my side. “I’m not tired, though.”
“Mm,” I hum. “We’ll revisit that in the car.”
Evan brushes past me, grabbing his keys off the table. “Let’s get you home, bug.”
There’s a round of goodbyes more chaotic than necessary. Frankie hugs me like we’ve known each other for years, and Mason tells me I’m on dessert next time, while Luke gives me a signature small nod, quieter than the others but no less intentional.
“Drive safe,” Colt says, already turning back toward the grill to scrub it down.
“See you next week,” Remi adds, like it’s a given. “We’ll get coffee and steal all the good cinnamon buns.”
I chuckle as Mason protests loudly somewhere in the background, but her words still settle somewhere warm. Coffee. Next week. Plans.
I wrap an arm around Elle’s shoulders as she leans into me, and Evan’s hand finds the small of my back as we start toward the truck. It’s light, like he’s done it a hundred times, but I’m aware of it the entire walk.
Of him.
Of the way his fingers shift just slightly when I step off the curb, steadying me without thinking about it.
God.
The air is cooler now, and the remaining noise from the bay softens as we retreat further into the parking lot. Evan greets a few of the crew arriving for handover to do night shift, and I smile back when they nod at me too.
Elle climbs into the back seat without prompting this time, already halfway asleep with Pengie tucked under her chin. Evan opens my door before I can reach for it, and I pause for half a second, glancing at him.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
His voice is quiet and easy and not making a thing of it, which just makes it harder to not feel several things at once. I slide into the seat, and he closes the door with a soft thud before rounding the front of the truck and climbing in beside me.
The engine turns over, and for a few minutes, it’s quiet. Elle’s soft breathing evens out in the back as we drive, and the hum of the road fills the space between us.
I rest my hand against the center console without thinking about it, but his eyes dart down. A moment later, his hand shifts from the gear stick to the console too—close enough that our fingers brush when the truck bumps slightly over the road.
Neither of us pulls away.
I stare out the window, but I feel his gaze flick toward me once, then back to the road.
“You enjoy it?” he asks after a beat.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “You?”
There’s another pause.
“Yeah.”
And the silence that follows after doesn’t feel cracked.
It feels full.