“No.”
His face falls.
I point at the porch. “You can walk in like a civilized criminal.”
He thinks about that, then nods. “Okay.”
Amelia closes her eyes. “Please don’t teach him that.”
“Too late. He’s advanced.”
August walks up the steps with exaggerated dignity, dinosaur tucked under his arm, juice box in his other hand. Legend moves out of his way like a man confronted with a wild animal he doesn’t know how to handle.
August looks up at him. “Are you maybe my uncle?”
Legend freezes.
Amelia’s face goes white. “August. Not again.”
“What? You said maybe.”
Legend looks at the kid.
Not down at him.
At him.
That matters. I don’t know why, but it does.
“We’re figuring that out,” Legend says.
August nods. “Do you have cereal?”
“No.”
“Derby doesn’t either.”
“Derby is worse at groceries than I am,” Legend says.
I point at him. “Betrayal.”
August sighs like grown men are the disappointment of his life. “Nobody has cereal.”
Sophie steps in smoothly. “Lottie is bringing groceries.”
“With marshmallows?” August asks.
“With something that can legally be called breakfast.”
He accepts this like a man settling a contract.
Then he walks inside.
Amelia watches him cross the threshold, and I see her throat move. Not panic exactly. Not relief either. Something between. Her son just walked into my house like maybe the floor would hold.
That probably scares her more than the clubhouse.
Sophie touches her arm. “You can go in.”