Chapter 1 #6
"Finally, someone admits my medical theory."
Laughter rolled through the dining room.
Real laughter.
Not forced.
Not polite.
The kind that came from people slowly remembering they were allowed to enjoy mornings again.
I leaned quietly against the hallway wall for a moment, watching the room fill with something far stronger than relief.
Hope.
It wasn't loud.
Hope rarely was.
It lived in coffee cups passed between strangers who no longer felt like strangers.
In children arguing over crayons instead of hiding beneath beds.
In veterans debating pancakes.
In volunteers who arrived before sunrise because they refused to let anyone face another morning alone.
This place had become more than a shelter.
It had become proof that broken beginnings didn't have to become broken endings.
"You're staring."
Bishop's voice pulled me back.
I looked over to find him standing beside me with that familiar knowing smile that always made me wonder how much he saw without anyone telling him.
"Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"I've heard."
He studied my face for a moment before nodding toward the medical office.
"You done hiding?"
"I wasn't hiding."
"No?"
"No."
"You've been standing here for five minutes."
"I've been observing."
Bishop chuckled.
"Different word. Same result."
I shook my head.
"You always this annoying before breakfast?"
"I'm always this annoying."
"Fair point."
He clapped one hand lightly against my shoulder before disappearing toward the dining room.
As I turned toward the medical office, something caught my eye.
A paper plate sat on the corner of my desk.
Two pancakes.
Scrambled eggs.
Three strips of bacon.
A banana.
Beside it rested a mug of coffee that had long since stopped steaming.
The food had gone completely cold.
I frowned.
I didn't remember anyone bringing it in.
Then I noticed the folded napkin beneath the fork.
Three simple words written in Bishop's unmistakable handwriting.
Eat your breakfast.
I let out a quiet laugh.
The man had somehow managed to sneak an entire meal into my office without me noticing.
I checked my watch.
Nearly ten-thirty.
The plate had probably been sitting there for more than two hours.
I lowered myself into the chair behind my desk for what felt like the first time all morning. Every muscle in my back protested the movement, reminding me that I'd been on my feet since before sunrise.
Outside my office window, I could hear Charlie laughing as Daisy chased her across the yard before loading her into the SUV for daycare.
Ethan had joined Mr. Dawson at one of the picnic tables, the teddy bear still resting awkwardly beneath his arm while the older veteran insisted pancakes tasted better outdoors.
Melissa walked across the porch carrying fresh towels toward the laundry room, and one of the younger women carefully watered flowers someone had planted along the front walk.
Life had returned.
Not because everything had been fixed.
Because everyone had chosen to keep going anyway.
I picked up the fork and cut into the cold pancakes.
They weren't very good anymore.
Didn't matter.
I was hungry enough not to care.
Halfway through the first bite, my office door opened softly.
I looked up.
Sunshine stood in the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame.
She looked as though she'd been searching for me.
"Oh."
Her eyes dropped to the plate in front of me.
"I didn't realize you were eating."
I glanced down.
"So did I."
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Long morning?"
"The usual."
She stepped a little farther into the room, holding a clipboard against her chest.
"I just wanted to let you know the new resident is resting."
"How's her arm?"
"No bleeding."
"Good."
"And..." She hesitated.
"She asked if you'd check on her again later."
"I will."
Sunshine nodded, but she didn't leave immediately.
Instead, her gaze lingered on the untouched half of my breakfast.
Then on the cold coffee.
Then on the clock hanging above the office door.
Recognition flickered briefly across her face.
Not judgment.
Not pity.
Understanding.
"You forgot breakfast again," she said quietly.
I looked down at the plate.
"I remembered eventually."
Her smile widened just enough to soften the sadness in her eyes.
"I suppose that's something."
Neither of us said anything else.
She simply offered one last gentle smile before turning toward the hallway.
As she reached the doorway, she glanced back.
"I'm glad you ate."
Then she disappeared around the corner.
I sat there for a long moment after she left, staring at the empty doorway with my fork still suspended halfway to my mouth.
It wasn't the words that stayed with me.
It was the way she'd said them.
Not like someone checking a task off a list.
Like someone who genuinely cared whether I'd taken care of myself.
The thought settled somewhere unexpectedly deep.
Outside, Charlie's laughter floated through the open window once more.
I smiled to myself, picked up my coffee, and took a sip before immediately making a face.
Cold.
Terrible.
Somehow...
It still tasted like home.