My couch gets covered with a throw blanket because Brittany says tape ain’t a design choice.
August sits on the floor with Blue Rex and the coloring book, explaining dinosaur combat strategies to Oaks, who listens like he is receiving a military briefing.
Amelia moves through all of it like someone trying not to be swept away by kindness.
Every time a bag is unpacked, she says thank you.
Every time someone gives August something, she looks pained.
Every time Sophie says, “It’s handled,” Amelia looks like handled might mean trapped.
I watch from the edge of the kitchen, useless in my own house.
No.
Not useless.
Outnumbered.
Legend texts once.
House secure. Fire Pit at six if she agrees. Vale’s people watching town. Let them see what we want.
I stare at the message.
Fire Pit at six.
Hell.
Amelia is kneeling beside August, helping him choose a crayon. Her hair has come loose around her face. She looks tired enough to fall over and stubborn enough to refuse the floor if it offered.
At six, I have to walk her into the Fire Pit and make half the town believe she chose me.
The worst part is that I want her to.
Not for the plan.
Not because of Jeremy.
Because when she looks at me like I might be safer than I look, I want to earn it.
That is a dangerous thought.
I put my phone away.
Sophie catches my eye from across the kitchen.
She knows.
Of course she knows.
I scowl.
She smiles.
Then she claps her hands once. “All right. Amelia, after lunch, we get you ready.”
Amelia goes still. “For the Fire Pit?”