Laughter #3
The room shifted around the words. Riley felt like the space itself loosened after holding tension for too long.
What had fractured between them earlier wasn’t gone, but it was being handled now instead of avoided.
Acknowledged carefully, directly, without anyone trying to minimise it into something smaller than it was.
Dee exhaled slowly, some of the rigidity leaving her shoulders. “That was a pretty shit thing to say to a psychologist,” she replied, her tone even, but not cold.
Tyler huffed out a quiet breath, something almost self-aware in it. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve figured that out.”
The response had barely settled before Leanne’s hand came up and smacked him cleanly upside the head.
“Hey—” Tyler started, recoiling slightly, more offended than injured.
“Don’t get smart with me,” Leanne snapped, fixing him with a look that could level entire stadiums. “You’re here to apologise, not workshop your personality.”
For a brief second, the room held still. Then, somewhere behind Riley, a sharp laugh escaped from Dee. Quickly smothered, but too late to hide. Shoulders shaking, breath hitching against a hand clamped over her mouth as composure failed completely.
The sound caught something loose inside Riley before she could contain it.
A laugh slipped out of her too, quieter than the one from Dee but no more controlled, the reaction arriving suddenly enough to feel unfamiliar.
It broke somewhere between relief and disbelief, soft at first, then warmer as it settled into her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Riley’s attention shifted to Dee, because this was the part that mattered now. Not the apology itself. The response to it.
Dee hadn’t moved. Her arms remained folded loosely across her chest, her expression unreadable in that deliberate way Riley was beginning to understand meant she was thinking carefully rather than emotionally.
Her gaze stayed fixed on Tyler, steady and assessing.
A second passed, then another. Finally, Dee nodded once. “Don’t do it again,” she said simply.
Tyler nodded back just as plainly. “I won’t.”
And something in the room shifted. It didn’t disappear entirely.
The argument still existed, the words still said, the impact still real.
But the volatility drained out of it. Riley felt the change before she consciously identified it, the atmosphere recalibrating around them in subtle increments rather than all at once.
The tension that had been wound tightly beneath her ribs began to loosen, strand by strand, until she could breathe without feeling like she was bracing for the next rupture.
The environment no longer felt unstable. Her breathing followed, evening out without instruction, her shoulders lowering slightly as her body registered it.
And only then, once the environment no longer felt like it might collapse inward under the weight of itself, did her attention return to him.
Declan hadn’t moved. He was still standing across from her, steady, grounded, his attention fixed on her with that same quiet steadiness he always seemed to carry. Like he had already decided he would stay exactly where she needed him to.
Riley’s fingers shifted slightly at her sides. She was about to step forward when… “Right,” Leanne said, clapping her hands together once, sharp and decisive. The moment paused. Riley’s attention flicked to her.
“Now that Tyler’s apology has been accepted,” Leanne continued briskly, turning fully toward Riley and Declan, her eyes bright with something barely contained, “I have been exceptionally patient.”
Tyler dragged a hand down his face. “Mum.”
“No,” she cut him off immediately. “I want to know what happened at the café.” Her gaze locked onto them. “Are you two together or not?”
Riley looked at Declan and found him already watching her.
For a second, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Something quiet moved between them anyway, steady and certain in a way that no longer required explanation or careful handling. He understood exactly what had just happened. More importantly, he understood why it mattered.
Their smiles appeared at the same time, small and instinctive. Across the room, Leanne inhaled sharply like she’d just witnessed something emotionally devastating.
“I…” And then she screamed, “I KNEW IT.” Her hands flew into the air as she spun toward Dee. “I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT—”
Dee didn’t even hesitate. “RIGHT?!” she yelled back instantly, grabbing onto Leanne like this was a shared victory they had personally orchestrated. “I told her, oh my GOD!”
“I HAVE BEEN WAITING—” Leanne cried, gripping her shoulders, the two of them practically bouncing in place.
“Same. SAME. This has been torture—”
Tyler closed his eyes briefly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
Then, with far more composure than anyone else in the room, he stepped forward, cutting through the chaos. One hand landed on Declan’s shoulder, the other at Riley’s back as he pulled them both in without hesitation.
“Alright,” he said, quieter, steady. “C’mere.”
The hug was brief, but solid; grounding without overwhelming the moment, like it was offered without expectation and therefore easier to accept.
Riley stilled for a fraction of a second as the contact registered.
Then she didn’t pull away. Declan shifted easily beside her, already relaxed into the interaction like this kind of closeness had never once been something to brace for.
Tyler released her just as casually, the movement unremarkable to him, already half-turning away as the conversation in the room continued around them.
But Riley stayed still for one second longer, because there was a time when that would have felt impossible.
Where contact would have been too difficult to navigate correctly without overthinking every part of it afterwards.
Now it happened before she could prepare for it, and nothing inside her had recoiled.
The realisation settled quietly somewhere deep in her chest as she glanced toward Declan again. She had come so much further than she ever thought she would.
Tyler stepped back first, giving Declan a firm pat on the shoulder. “Good,” he said simply. Then, to Riley, a small nod. “Glad you’re back, you’ve been missed.”
And just like that, he was done, turning slightly away, leaving the space open again.
Declan didn’t hesitate. The moment Tyler stepped back, he moved.
His hand found hers easily, like it already knew where it belonged, his fingers threading through hers without pause.
The contact was warm, steady, assured in a way that carried no hesitation.
Riley felt it instantly, the certainty of it settling somewhere deep and quiet beneath her ribs. Her fingers tightened slightly around his in response, her body shifting a fraction closer before she consciously registered the movement at all.
Behind them, Leanne and Dee were still absolutely losing it.
“I KNEW IT—” Leanne was saying, gripping Dee’s arms again. “Tyler tried to tell me I didn’t call this—”
“RIGHT?!” Dee shot back, laughing. “I’ve been suffering through this for months—”
Tyler muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “This is never ending.”
Dee turned back suddenly, eyes bright with renewed chaos. “Okay, no. I need details again. I don’t care that I already got them, I want a replay.”
“Same,” Leanne agreed immediately, already stepping closer. “From the beginning. Do not summarise.”
“—and don’t leave anything out—”
“—I want specifics—”
The noise layered over itself, rising again, filling the space without restraint.
Riley stood in the middle of it, her hand still in Declan’s.
Her attention moved between them all; the overlapping voices, the movement, the complete absence of any coherent structure.
Once, the chaos would have settled wrong beneath her skin.
In this moment, something else settled there instead.
Something that still felt unfamiliar in places, but no longer unwelcome.
Then she turned toward him, enough for her shoulder to press more fully against his, her voice low beneath the noise surrounding them.
“Oh my god,” she murmured softly, something almost disbelieving threading through the words. “What have we done?”
He looked down at her immediately, a small, knowing smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Riley held his gaze, and for a moment, everything else receded. Not gone, simply quieter. The noise. The movement. The unpredictability she once would have spent every second trying to control or escape. Now she didn’t.
Her fingers tightened lightly around his, grounded by the easy warmth of him beside her.
And with all the noise around her, all the disorder, all the unexpected ways her life had unfolded beyond anything she could have designed for herself, the thought settled quietly and completely into place.
She wouldn’t change a thing.