Chapter 19
Levi
But there’s already movement. My mother emerges from the RV first, wrapped in a cardigan so bright yellow it rivals the sun and holding a mug that reads Life’s a Garden, Dig It, a favorite from her novelty mug collection.
Dark hair now streaked silver is pulled into a neat ponytail, and when she spots me immediately through my upstairs window, she waves enthusiastically like we’re separated by an ocean and not a narrow street.
My dad follows, binoculars hanging around his neck. His hair, now fully gray, sticks out at odd angles beneath a cap that proclaims Bird Is the Word. He looks up too, giving a casual thumbs-up as if this early ambush was mutually agreed upon.
Bryan and June Wilder always pick the earliest ETA…and stick to it.
They’re charming. Exhausting. Olympic-level champions of cheerful denial. Everything I’ve ever learned about pretending I’m fine, I learned from them. Smile until your cheeks hurt, laugh loud enough that no one hears the silence underneath, and always, always talk about birds instead of feelings.
Or, plants, in my case. And lately, those plants…along with the sponsor emails and endless phone calls that come with them…have been my best excuse for not slowing down long enough to notice how much I’m running on fumes.
By the time I step outside, they’re fully engrossed in a debate about cardinal migration patterns. This is them. Perfectly ordinary and perfectly avoidant.
“Morning, Levi Strauss,” Dad says, hugging me like the nickname might finally stick. “Up with the dawn chorus, kiddo?”
I groan softly into his shoulder. “Not exactly by choice.”
Mom’s next, the scent of apricot soap and coffee enveloping me like it has for as long as I can remember. She leans back, holding my face between her palms, eyes searching mine with an intensity I’ve come to dread.
“You look tired, sweetie,” she says, her brow creasing slightly.
“It’s before seven,” I say, detangling myself from her grip. “Anyone who’s awake right now looks tired…present company excluded.”
She smiles but it doesn’t erase the concern in her eyes. “Well, we’ve got plenty planned today, so you better rally.”
“I’m rallied,” I lie, forcing brightness into my voice.
“Good! Busy day ahead.” Mom’s attention wanders toward the shopwindow. “So, will we finally get to meet this Hayden you’ve been speaking so highly of? You haven’t introduced us to anyone since…well, since…” She stops herself, the words fading, but I know what she means.
Since they left Stonevale.
Since visits turned rushed and chaotic. Since I stopped letting them all the way in because they put the town…and me…in the rearview mirror.
My throat tightens, heat creeping up my neck like betrayal. “Yeah, he’s coming. Minimum interrogation, please.”
Mom gasps. “We would never.”
Dad coughs into his fist. “Speak for yourself, Junebug.”
She swats at him playfully. “But seriously, sweetie, it’s been so long. He must be pretty special.”
I glance away, shrugging. “Maybe.”
She doesn’t push, but I feel the weight of the unspoken expectation settle between us. My brother’s absence filling the space like it always does.
Like it always has.
The morning’s a whirlwind. Breakfast at Café Clove, a tour of the updates at Full Bloom, then Mom’s boutique circuit.
She picks up everything she thinks is “darling” but buys none of it.
Dad chatters nonstop about the mating calls of chickadees and something about the nesting preferences of dark-eyed juncos.
It’s busy and entirely surface level, exactly how they prefer it.
Somewhere between the bakery and the bookstore, I spot him…
Hayden, in his usual black coat, striding up the steps of city hall with a folder tucked under his arm.
I raise a hand automatically, ready to wave across Main Street, just in time to see him disappear through those glass doors.
What could possibly keep a funeral director visiting city hall this much?
I mean, at this point, maintenance probably sends the guy holiday cards.
“You coming, sweetie?” Mom calls from a few paces ahead.
I blink, dropping my hand. “Yeah,” I call back, forcing a smile as I fall into step beside her. “Right behind you.”
Later, at my apartment, Mom immediately fusses.
Watering plants she insists look parched (they don’t) and straightening the eclectic assortment of thrifted frames and colorful ceramics scattered across shelves.
As I watch her carefully rearrange the trailing ivy, murmuring softly about how plants thrive on regular attention…
to me, of all people…a quiet ache settles behind my ribs.
She means well, I remind myself. And so, I let her continue her gentle crusade against imagined neglect, fixing what isn’t broken, even though her nervous energy only heightens my own.
I’m about two seconds from cracking when the door to my apartment swings open without a knock.
Dominic bursts in, Elijah trailing behind him with a bakery bag. Dominic takes one look at the RV pamphlets scattered on my kitchen table and the color-coded bird-watching itinerary my father has hung on the fridge, and he’s saluting my parents like he’s reporting for duty.
“June! Bryan! My absolute favorite Wilders,” Dominic declares. “Heard there was a hostage situation.” He drops his voice for me alone: “We’ll stay as long as you need.”
Mom squeals, clutching his face like he’s back from war. Dad lifts his binoculars jokingly. “A rare Dominic sighting. Remarkable plumage.”
Elijah steps around them both, setting the bag on the counter. “Thought you could use reinforcements.”
Thank you, I mouth.
Dominic, meanwhile, is already center stage. He’s holding my mom’s hands, complimenting her haircut—she blushes when he calls it “radiant”—before pivoting expertly to clap my dad on the shoulder, loudly congratulating him on “tolerating retirement like a champ.”
“So,” Dominic continues, sliding into a chair and snagging a muffin from the table. “How’s the great RV adventure? Last time we spoke, June, you mentioned something about matching binocular tattoos?”
My mother laughs, a carefree, delighted sound I haven’t heard since they arrived. I try to not take it personally. She pats Dominic’s hand warmly. “Still trying to convince Bryan. You know how he is.”
Dominic nods solemnly. “Always a tough nut to crack.”
Dad chuckles, now relaxed. “I keep telling her my body’s a temple. Can’t vandalize it.”
“Oh, even temples need decorations,” Dominic argues, leaning closer to my father. “I mean, look at Levi’s place. Bursting with personality.” His gaze flits briefly to me, eyebrows raised playfully. “He gets it.”
“I most certainly do not,” I deadpan, reaching gratefully for the fresh coffee Elijah hands me before leaning against the counter next to him. “Thanks for coming,” I mutter under my breath.
Elijah shrugs, casual, steady as always. “Dominic insisted. Said your texts were giving off a distinct ‘help me’ vibe.”
Dominic clearly overhears us. “It’s true. He used four exclamation points this morning.”
“Four exclamation points?” Mom gasps. “Levi, really. Such dramatics.”
“That’s how you know it’s serious,” Dominic assures her. “Three exclamations, it’s a minor crisis. Four, you assemble the gays.”
“Ah,” my father chimes in, nodding in agreement. “The Dominic Scale of Emergency. Good to know.”
The banter flows easy, Dominic regaling my parents with inflated and damaging stories about our youth. The embarrassing highlight reel he saves specifically for them.
In the brief lull that follows Dominic’s retelling of the infamous fifth-grade talent show incident involving a particularly disastrous “Oops!…I Did It Again” lip-sync performance we were convinced would earn us the trophy, he meets my eyes across the table.
His expression softens slightly, humor giving way briefly to genuine warmth.
You good? he mouths silently.
Not good, held together. It’s enough, so I nod, feeling the tightness in my chest ease.
Dominic gives me a wink before seamlessly returning his attention to my mom, who’s now trying to convince him to join them on their next birding adventure. Elijah bumps my shoulder gently.
“You know,” he says quietly, his voice low and amused, “Dominic has a full rescue operation ready.”
I smile into my coffee, watching Dominic charm my parents the same way he’s been doing since we were in grade school. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”
“He loves them,” Elijah says, a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “But he loves you more. He may not always admit it, but he worries about you.”
My throat tightens slightly. “I know…he’s good at that.”
Elijah gives my shoulder another gentle squeeze, understanding without needing to hear more.
Eventually, Dominic claps his hands together, signaling the end of their impromptu visit. “Alright, Wilders. As much as I’d love to stay and discuss RV sewage solutions…”
“Compostable!” Dad chimes in proudly.
Dominic points at him. “Of course it is. But Elijah and I have some errands to run today, which sounds infinitely less exciting than all…that.”
My mother practically deflates. “Oh, you two should join us for dinner later! Hayden is coming. Levi’s very mysterious, very handsome new friend.”
Dominic presses a dramatic hand to his chest. “Excuse me? Funeral Guy meets the parents before we get an official double date?”
“Careful,” I warn. “He handles dead bodies professionally. You might be next.”
Dominic grins. “And he’d handle mine with the utmost care.”
Elijah sighs, tugging Dominic toward the door. “Alright, honey. Let’s leave with some dignity intact.”
“Too late,” Dominic says, pulling me in for another hug before Elijah guides him out. “Text if you need another extraction.”
Dominic and Elijah slip out the door and warmth blooms deep in my chest. My friends have always known exactly when to show up and exactly how to hold space for me without me ever needing to ask. They’re the family I found for myself.