Dalton
Hampton, Virginia
The smell of grilled burgers hangs heavy in the air, mixing with cut grass and the faint sweetness of whatever the hell Lila brought for dessert that she won’t let anyone touch yet.
I flip another burger, pressing it down slightly with the spatula as it sizzles, flames licking up just enough to make Hadley gasp behind me like I’ve just performed some kind of magic trick.
“Did you see that?” she says, eyes wide.
“I did,” I tell her, glancing over my shoulder. “Pretty impressive, right?”
“I think you almost burned it.”
I snort. “I did not almost burn it.”
She tilts her head, completely unconvinced. “It looked like it.”
From the patio table, Logan laughs. “Hadley’s got a point, Dalton. You’re playing with fire a little there.”
“Stay in your lane,” I shoot back without missing a beat. “I don’t tell you how to cook at your house.”
Lila laughs. “You have actually.”
“Yeah, last time you were over you told me I overcooked the pizza. It was perfectly fired,” Logan argues, offended.
“It was a little burnt, babe,” she corrects.
Wells leans back in his chair, smirking slightly. “I was there, it was absolutely charred to hell."
“Wow,” Logan mutters. “I see how it is.”
“Hey,” Townsend cuts in dryly from where he’s leaning against the railing, beer in hand. “At least he cooks. How many years did you both survive on takeout?”
“Zero,” I grumble.
“I’m still surviving on it,” Wells quips. But I know that’s not really true. Wells puts on a front but there’s something deeper. He’s not all comedy and charm, and I’m wondering how long until he finally lets us in enough to see that.
“Me too, it’s borderline embarrassing at this point.” Kyler finally joins us, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans. I am tempted to ask if it was work, if it’s anything he can—or wants to—share. But then decide to just be present.
I shake my head, flipping another burger, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
It’s easy. The noise, the arguing, the normalcy of it.
I glance to my right without thinking. Ivy is there. Curled into one of the patio chairs, legs tucked up under her, a glass of chilled white wine in her hand, her hair catching the last of the evening light. She’s listening to Lila and Alinna talk, smiling softly at something one of them says.
And she looks…lighter. Not fixed. Not healed. But lighter. Like the weight isn’t crushing her the way it was.
Her eyes meet mine across the small space between us, and something in her expression softens immediately.
I walk away from the grill long enough to check in. “You okay?” I ask.
It’s quiet, just for her.
She nods, that small, honest smile still there. “Yeah.”
I hold her gaze for a second longer than I should, searching for anything that tells me otherwise.
I don’t find it.
Or maybe I do, but it’s quieter now. Manageable.
I reach out, my hand settling against the side of her knee, thumb brushing once, just to feel the solid reality of her being right there.
She leans into it without thinking.
I lean forward, intending to press a kiss to her hair, but she catches me off guard, tilting her face up so our lips meet.
I smile before walking back to the grill.
Hadley is halfway through telling Kyler a story about something that happened at school, hands moving animatedly as she talks, completely unaware that every adult is watching her like she’s the best thing in the world.
“And then she said I couldn’t sit there because it was her spot,” Hadley says, clearly offended even in hindsight.
Kyler raises an eyebrow. “Was it her spot?”
“No,” Hadley says immediately. “It’s just a chair.”
“This sounds like a her problem,” Wells chimes in.
Kyler snorts.
Hadley nods enthusiastically. “So I told her she didn’t own chairs and she should probably calm down.”
Lila chokes on her drink.
“Hadley,” she laughs. “You did not say that.”
“I did,” Hadley says proudly.
I smile, my eyes meeting Kyler’s. He shakes his head, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “We’re working on tact.”
“She started it,” Hadley counters.
“That doesn’t mean you escalate, Had,” he says.
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “No, but that tracks.”
He shoots me a look. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I’m not,” I say, still smiling. “I’m just saying…she’s not wrong.”
“Thank you,” Hadley says, immediately siding with me.
“Unbelievable,” Kyler says, laughing. “Go back to flipping your burgers. And you come find your mama with me.” He leans forward and scoops Hadley up. They walk over to Ivy who’s mid conversation with Alinna.
Alinna leans back slightly in her chair, watching Wells say something under his breath to Logan, her attention lingering on him a second longer than she probably realizes.
Wells glances up, catches her looking, and there’s a brief pause—something quiet passing between them—before he reaches out, dragging his beer closer and bumping it lightly against hers.
She smiles. Small. But real. And it makes sense in a way that doesn’t feel forced.
“So how long until that turns into something?” Lila asks coming up behind me.
I narrow my eyes, studying Wells and Alinna a little longer.
“Food ready or what, Dalton?” Townsend calls out.
“Now that guy,” I whisper to Lila, “needs a woman in his life.”
She laughs quietly to prevent Townsend from noticing. “Maybe she can remove the permanent stick up his ass.”
I laugh, too. “One can only hope.” Then to Townsend, “Relax, good things take time.”
“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes.” It’s Wells this time. “And yet, here we are. Still waiting.”
“Starving, actually,” Logan adds.
“You’re not starving,” Lila says. “You had chips and guac ten minutes ago.”
“That was a snack.”
Lila laughs, walking over to him. “It was still food.”
I slide the burgers onto the tray, finally satisfied. “Alright, calm down. Dinner is ready, you’re going to survive.”
I walk them over to the outdoor dining table that’s already covered with side dishes, plates, and condiments. It’s a matter of seconds until everyone follows, taking their seats.
We fall into an easy rhythm after that—plates passed around, drinks refilled, overlapping conversations that don’t require effort to keep going.
It’s loud. It’s comfortable. It’s safe.
And I don’t take a second of it for granted.
Not after last week.
Not after walking into my house after it had been invaded.
Not after realizing how fast everything I care about could’ve been ripped away from me.
I sit down beside Ivy once everyone’s settled, my knee brushing hers.
She shifts closer, her shoulder pressing lightly into mine as she balances her plate.
“Careful,” I murmur. “Hot.”
“I’ve got it,” she says, but she still leans just a little more into me anyway.
I let out a quiet breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
This. Right here. This is what matters.
Not the briefings. Not the flights. Not the chaos.
This. Her. Hadley laughing across the table. Our friends filling the space around us.
I glance over at Kyler for a second.
He’s watching Hadley, something soft in his expression.
When he looks up and meets my eyes, there’s no tension there.
Just understanding. An acknowledgment.
She’s safe.
We did that.
Both of us, in different ways.
I nod once.
He nods back.
And then the moment passes, easy as that.
I lean back slightly in my chair, one arm resting along the back of Ivy's chair, my fingers brushing absently against her shoulder.
The sun dips lower, casting everything in that warm, golden light that makes the ordinary feel like something worth remembering.
***
Hadley is half asleep before we even make it down the hallway.
Her head is tucked into my shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around my neck, her cheek warm where it’s pressed against me.
She’s still fighting it, mumbling something about not being tired, but her words are starting to blur together, soft and incoherent.
“I’m not tired,” she insists, voice thick.
“Of course not,” Ivy says gently beside me, pushing Hadley’s bedroom door open. “You’re just resting your eyes for a second."
Hadley hums like she’s considering that, already losing the argument.
I carry her over to the bed carefully, lowering her down. She curls instinctively onto her side, reaching blindly for her blanket.
Ivy is already there, pulling it up over her, smoothing it down with quiet, practiced movements. There’s something about the way she does it that hits me right in the chest.
“Mama?” Hadley mumbles, barely awake.
“I’m right here, baby,” Ivy whispers.
Hadley’s hand reaches out again, and this time it finds Ivy’s, small fingers curling around hers. “I’m happy Daddy came over,” she says, words slurring together.
“I know, me too, sweetie,” Ivy murmurs.
“And happy about burgers,” Hadley adds, like it’s the most important detail. “They were so yummy.”
I bite back a smile. “Best part of the day,” I say quietly.
Hadley hums in agreement, already drifting.
Ivy brushes her thumb gently across Hadley’s knuckles. “Go to sleep, okay?”
There’s no response this time. Just the slow, even rhythm of a kid who’s completely out. We stay there for a second, neither of us rushing to leave. I rest my hand lightly against Hadley’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
Finally, Ivy carefully slips her hand free, tucking the blanket in one last time before she straightens.
I reach over and switch off the lamp, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight.
Then we step out, pulling the door closed behind us with a quiet click.
The hallway is dim, the house settling into that late-night stillness that only comes after a full day—voices gone, laughter faded, everything slowing down.
Ivy turns toward me, probably to say something, but I don’t give her the chance.
My hand catches her wrist, gently but firmly, and the next second I’ve got her pressed back against the wall, my other hand bracing beside her head as I kiss her.
It’s not slow. Not careful. It’s deep and a little desperate because I’ve been holding back all night and don’t want to anymore.
She gasps softly against my mouth, her hands finding my shirt, gripping it as she leans into me without hesitation.
“I missed you,” I murmur against her lips, even though she’s been here all night.
“I’m right here,” she whispers back.
I kiss her again, slower this time, my forehead resting briefly against hers as I try to steady something inside me that still hasn’t fully come down from everything that’s happened. “This,” I say quietly, my voice rougher now. “This is what I want.”
Her brows pull together slightly. “What?”
“Tonight,” I say. “You. Hadley. Everyone here. Feeling normal. Burgers. Bedtime.” I let out a quiet breath.
“I want this. Every night.” My hand tightens slightly at her waist, like I need to hold the moment in place.
“I don’t care if it’s fast,” I add, shaking my head a little.
“I don’t care if my timing’s shit or if I’m supposed to wait or whatever the hell people say. ”
My eyes lock on hers.
“I love you.”
The words hang there between us, heavier than anything I’ve probably ever said.
Her breath catches. “Dalton…” she whispers, like she doesn’t quite know what to do with it yet.
I don’t look away. “I do.”
Something in her changes—soft, not breaking, not overwhelmed—just…opening. Her hand slides up, fingers curling lightly at the back of my neck, holding me there. “I love you, too.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, pulling her into me like I need to feel it everywhere, not just hear it. My mouth finds hers again, slower this time, deeper, less desperate.
“Yeah?” I murmur against her lips.
She smiles softly, her forehead pressing to mine. “Yeah.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that settle.
“I know it hasn’t been long,” I say more quietly now, my hand sliding back to her waist. “I know you’ve been through hell and I’m not trying to—” I exhale, shaking my head slightly. “I just…I don’t want you to leave.”
The words come easier now. Clearer.
“I don’t want you going back to your house because you think you’re supposed to,” I add. “I don’t want this to be temporary.”
Her eyes search mine, steady now.
“I want you here,” I say. “With me.”
There’s a beat.
Then another.
And then, “I’m already here,” she says softly.
I huff out a quiet laugh, my forehead dropping to hers again. “Yeah, I know.”
She smiles just a little. “I moved in, remember? Two months ago?”
“Yeah,” I say, my thumb brushing lightly along her jaw. “You didn’t really have a choice then.”
Her expression shifts, a look of understanding on her beautiful face.
“I want you to have one now,” I tell her.
Silence settles between us again, but it’s different now.
Her hand comes up, resting over mine where it’s still holding her.
“I haven’t stayed because I had to,” she says quietly. “I’ve stayed because I want to.”
My chest tightens.
“I just needed to know you knew the difference.” I nod once, slow. “And I do now.”
She studies me for a second longer, then leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.
When she pulls back, she doesn’t go far.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers.