I tuck the keychain into my pocket before she can say anything else.
“Thank you.”
Her face softens in a way that makes my chest tight.
“You’re welcome.”
We stand there too long.
Grocery bags between us.
Rain smell in the air.
Keys in her hand.
A stupid dinosaur keychain in my pocket.
The porch light is off because it’s daytime, but I feel exposed anyway.
From inside, August yells, “Derby! Blue Rex needs court snacks!”
Amelia laughs and turns toward the house.
I grab two bags from the truck. “Court snacks. Very official.”
We carry the groceries inside. August attacks the fruit snacks like a starving judge with no ethics. I put the coffee filters in the cabinet and the keychain on my actual keys before I can overthink it. It looks ridiculous hanging there beside my bike key.
I like it.
Too much.
Amelia sees me do it.
She says nothing.
She does smile.
The afternoon settles softer than I expect.
Not safe.
Soft.
There is a difference.
Amelia puts groceries away and pauses every time she realizes she knows where something belongs now. August eats fruit snacks in the fort. I install a better latch on the back door while she watches, not because it’s broken, but because it makes me feel useful and keeps my hands off her.
She teases me about needing three locks.
I tell her the fourth is coming tomorrow.
She rolls her eyes.
It feels almost normal.
Which is probably why the world decides to spit on it.
The knock comes near dusk.