“Midnight,” I corrected, because some things mattered. “And he’s not damned. He’s misunderstood.”
“Just roll.” Brody chuckled.
I shook the dice in my hand. The plastic clicked together in a familiar rhythm, grounding me in a way nothing else did.
Halfway through the roll, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I caught it with my other hand, thumb flicking the screen under the edge of the table.
Clara
Why did my brother text me that I can thank him for the “perfect tampons”?
Heat crawled up my neck. A laugh tried to sneak out of my chest.
My thumbs moved before my brain could overthink it.
Me
I’ll explain later, but basically I panicked and had to roll with it.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Clara
You’re ridiculous. Thank you for the right kind anyway.
The little knot inside my chest loosened. I stuffed the phone back in my pocket, mouth fighting a smile.
“Text from work?” Hayes asked, tone casual as he reached for his d20 dice.
My face stayed neutral, but I could feel the amusement tugging at the edges. “Just Clara checking I didn’t die on the stairs,” I said.
“See?” Austin said. “Full-time live-in nurse. You’re basically a Hallmark movie.”
“Pretty sure Hallmark skips the part where she rolls her eyes and tells me to stop being such a baby,” I said.
The table laughed. Hayes shook his head, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes, like he was turning the words over.
Game night rolled on.
We argued about spell slots and rations. Brody cursed when we walked right into a trap he’d been telegraphing for three sessions. Hayes’s character did something spectacularly stupid that somehow worked out for everyone. It felt like old times in a way that made my soul ache a little—same guys, same table,same noise, except my leg didn’t feel like a spotlight and my brain wasn’t trying to drag me out of my own skin.
Underneath all of it, a thin thread tugged—a steady awareness that I was living two lives now. One at this table, rolling dice and talking shit. One back at the house, teaching my hands to stay off my roommate while my mouth did everything else.
Eventually the pizza boxes were empty, the beer was gone, and people started peeling off with clapped shoulders and shouted promises to “definitely read my spells before next time.”
I shrugged on my jacket.
“You heading out too?” Hayes asked, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door.
“Yeah.” I stretched, feeling the tug in my thigh in a way that was more information than pain. “Early PT tomorrow. My therapist will have my ass if I show up half asleep.”
We stepped out onto the porch together. The night air was sharp and cold, breath coming out in white puffs. Across the street, somebody’s porch light buzzed, haloed in a cloud of fine winter air.
For a second it was easy. Just me and my best friend, standing side by side like we had a hundred times before everything changed.
“You seem ... better,” Hayes said.