Sawyer
Thursday morning, the felt different.
When I got to the shop Benji was already there, crouched over a half-finished iron railing with earbuds in and his torch lit.
Sparks jumped like fireflies every time the metal caught heat.
He didn’t look up when I walked in. He just gave me the nod, the Benji nod.
Our shorthand for good morning, I see you, we’re okay.
I liked mornings like this. No clients. No expectations. Just the steady heartbeat of the shop.
By nine-thirty, Benji shut off his music and stretched his arms overhead.
“Coffee break?” he asked as he tugged one earbud out.
I didn’t look up from the railing while smoothing the weld line. “You just want an excuse to flirt with the barista,” I said.
Benji rested a hand on his chest like I had wounded him. “She draws rainbows in my oat milk foam,” he smirked. “That’s not flirting. That’s destiny.”
I tugged my gloves off and wiped my hands on a rag. “Fine,” I told him. “But you’re driving. I’m not rescuing you again if you forget your wallet.”
At the café down the block, I leaned against the counter while Benji worked his charm. He wasn’t subtle. Never had been. The barista lit up the second she saw him, and I had to hand it to him. Benji’s softness disarmed people.
We grabbed a table by the window once the drinks were ready. I sipped my cold brew while pedestrians hustled past outside with the distracted urgency of weekday mornings.
Benji studied me for a moment before speaking. “You seem… good,” he said finally.
I lifted my eyes from the window. “Good?”
“I don’t know, just steady.” He clarified.
I shrugged slightly and took another sip. “Thursday,” I offered.
He gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “And maybe Addison?” he asked.
I lifted a brow. “How much do you want to know?”
“No gross details or anything, but enough?”
“There aren’t any gross details…yet” I teased. “We went on a date Tuesday night.”
“That got his attention.” He leaned back in his chair slightly. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s new.”
“I like her,” I added. “Feels easy.”
Benji leaned back farther and studied me like he was assembling a puzzle. “She spending the night?”
I snorted. “Not yet.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
“She’s different,” I said after a moment. “Not flashy. Not loud. She listens. Like actually listens. And I listen to her. She tells me stuff.” I paused. “And I want to be a place where she can just—relax and be herself. It seems like she does everything for everyone.”
Benji nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s been holding everyone together for a long time.”
“Yeah she told me.”
“She did?” He asked.
I nodded “She told me she knew you were her brother before you said it.”
Benji paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth before setting it down carefully. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I always knew she knew. She just let me be me. Even as young kids.”
“You’ve got a good sister,” I told him.
His gaze sharpened, protective but not hostile. “Don’t mess with her,” he said.
“I’m not. I wouldn’t” I replied immediately. “That’s not what this is.”
Something in his shoulders softened. He nodded once, and the conversation ended there. We talked about work and his life after that. And I felt like he got that I was really starting to care about her.
* * *
By lunch, my arms ached and my shirt clung to me, but it was the good kind of tired. I sat out back on the metal steps with leftover pasta and scrolled through my phone.
There were no posts from Addison.
Which was fine. The real stuff didn’t live on Instagram anyway.
At 1:13, my phone buzzed.
Addison: Back-to-back showings again. Just spilled iced coffee on myself like a gremlin. Please tell me you’re winning today.
I smiled immediately and typed back while balancing the container on my knee.
Me: Benji almost welded his glove to the railing, so you’re still winning the Hart elegance points.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Addison: I screamed internally and kept talking. Very professional.
I leaned back against the step railing before answering.
Me: That’s impressive restraint.
A laughing emoji appeared on the screen a moment later. It shouldn’t have done as much to me as it did, but it did.
The afternoon blurred after that. The radio crackled with classic rock until I shut it off and stuck with my own playlist. Around five I wiped down my bench and rolled my neck until it popped.
My phone buzzed again.
Vic: Drinks? Nina’s in town. Patio bar. No pressure.
Normally I would have said yes. Vic was chaos in human form, and Nina meant stories.
Tonight, though, noise sounded exhausting.
Me: Rain check. Long day.
Vic: Lame. But fine. Don’t let Sunshine steal you completely.
I snorted and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
* * *
The ride home was slow. City lights flickered on and windows spilled warm rectangles onto the street. I liked the way the bike vibrated beneath me and the way the wind cleared my head.
At home, I showered, changed, and collapsed onto the couch with a lime seltzer before flipping on Top Gear. I didn’t actually care about cars. I cared about the shouting. It kept me company without asking questions.
I thought about texting Addison. Before I could, my phone lit up.
Addison: I survived. Barely. Sweats. Drag Race. No responsibilities left.
I smiled and typed back.
Me: I’m on my couch watching British guys yell about engines.
Addison replied a few seconds later.
Addison: That’s… strangely hot?
I leaned back into the cushion before answering.
Me: Don’t analyze my coping skills.
There was a short pause before another message appeared.
Addison: Tuesday still feels close.
My breath hitched at that.
Me: Yeah. It does.
We kept it easy after that. No big confessions, just small back-and-forth messages that already felt familiar.
Addison: I think I might fall asleep on the couch.
Me: long days with do that to you.
Me: Go to bed, Sunshine. Don’t sleep on the couch… I’m sure you have a very nice, expensive, comfortable bed.
Addison: I do, you should come over and see for yourself. I could use a snuggle.
Me: Another night, beautiful.
Addison: Rude.
Addison: Goodnight, Sawyer.
I smiled while typing my reply.
Me: Night, Sunshine.
I didn’t know what this was yet, but I knew it wasn’t a fluke, and for once I didn’t feel the urge to run from it.
* * *