At the table, Liam leaned in close and whispered, “You good?”
“Yes. Shouldn’t we help, though?”
“Nope, they got it. They’d love you to join them so they can teach you more than you ever wanted to know about cooking, but we’ll save that for another time.”
We set the table with the dishes they’d left stacked in the middle, and a few minutes later, they came over, arms laden with food. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, bowls of sliced strawberries and bananas, a butter dish, and the two creamer pitchers.
“This looks incredible,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Do you need me to get anything else?” Liam asked.
“Just the drinks. Jenna, what would you like? Orange juice? Coffee?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “I…uh, juice, please.”
An awkward silence fell over the table. This was the problem with everyone knowing. If this had triggered a thought about Brian, I’d be able to smooth it over with a comment about too much coffee or something, and we’d all happily move on with no one the wiser. But now, with Snake Eyes, it was so public. How could we—how could I—move on when my issues were asloud and visible and disruptive as a herd of elephants trampling across the table?
“Whatever you want is fine, Firefly.”
“Oh, I should have brought cinnamon sticks and apples!” his mom exclaimed before I could respond. “You don’t have any, do you, Liam?”
“No, Mom.”
“Go get juice for everyone,” Liam’s dad told him. “I’ll run to the store after breakfast.”
“Yes, I’ll make us a great tea,” his mom said. “You just steep cinnamon sticks and a sliced granny smith apple, then you add black tea during the day, or a good rooibos in the evening. It’s like a cup of coziness, you’ll love it.”
“That sounds amazing. Thank you.” I tried to convey all my appreciation, not just for the tea, which did sound amazing, but for everything. Food was clearly their love language, and they were lavishing me with it.
“It’s our pleasure. Now pass me your plate and let’s eat.”
She piled my plate high and passed it back, along with the two little pitchers. “This has warm maple syrup,” she said about the one on the left, then slid the other one closer to me. “And this one is my favorite—melted chocolate with a pinch of butter and sea salt.”
Pancakes topped with chocolate, bananas, and strawberries were almost good enough to forget about everything else.
“So,” Mike said, and I braced for his questions. “Let’s talk about Scoops and Ladders.”
I smiled, the tension oozing out of me like warm chocolate over pancakes. Liam’s parents were almost too good to be true.
After breakfast, Liam’s parents insisted on cleaning up, and then Patty sent Liam and his dad out to food shop. Liam tried to refuse, but his mom persisted, and he finally conceded when I backed her up. She was tough to say no to.
Once we were alone, Patty wandered to the patio door, too casually. “I’ve been wanting to try that swing since I first saw it. Want to come sit with me?”
We watched Thor explore the backyard in silence for a few minutes before she started. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Maybe, like popping a giant, festering pimple, talking about it was gross but necessary. I sighed and nodded. Then everything I’d been holding back spewed out. “I’m afraid Liam will never forgive me. I sent him away. He was trying his hardest to protect me, and I sent him away for a stupid coffee. I know he blames himself, and I’m so sorry for that.”
“Sweetheart, if he knew you were here worrying about him, he’d tell you his only concern is you. As long as you’re okay, he’ll be okay.”
“But what if I’m never okay?”
“Something like this changes a person. I’m not going to lie and pretend you’ll be exactly the same as before, but I have no doubt that the new version of you will be just as wonderful as you’ve always been. And I know Liam will love you just as much.”
“I’m scared it’s going to change everything. For me and for us.”
“I know we’ve just met, but I saw immediately how kind and caring and strong you are. That’s not going to change.”
“I don’t feel strong. I feel vulnerable. Like a tiny, weak minnow in a sea of sharks. A blind minnow, too dumb to even know it’s in danger. Too helpless to get away, even when it does know. This…” My throat constricted, the words scraping their way out. “This wasn’t the first time something happened to me. And before, I had so many opportunities to help myself, but I never did. I let it happen for years.”