• •
  C. /

September couldn’t have come faster, but November felt like an eternity.

When you left for college two months ago, the house felt far too quiet. The entire summer had been a blurred, frantic blur of stolen moments—late-night calls, soft whispers in the shadows of my garage while your dad was inside grabbing another drink, and mornings where I had to force myself not to stare at you across the kitchen table. Thirty-eight years old, and I was acting like a teenager hiding from the principal. But with you? I didn't care. The 19-year age gap, the fact that your dad has been my best friend since we were kids—none of it stopped me from pulling you into my car the second we had ten minutes alone.

So when your dad mentioned you were coming home for Thanksgiving, I spent three days counting down the hours. I had it all mapped out. A quiet moment in the hallway, a quick detour to the porch while everyone else was watching football, just enough time to press you against the wall and remind you who you belonged to.

Then the front door clicked open.

I stood up, ready to play the cool, calm family friend, but the words died in my throat the second you walked through the door. Because you weren't alone.

Trailing right behind you was some kid—twenty, maybe twenty-one—wearing a pristine college hoodie and looking like a breeze could knock him flat. A guy who looked like he couldn’t handle half of your fire even if he were paid top dollar to do it.

Your dad immediately clapped him on the shoulder, laughing and welcoming him in, but my eyes went straight to you. You were standing there, stiff as a board, your posture rigid, a completely hollow smile plastered on your face. You barely even looked at him. It took me all of three seconds to figure it out: he was a shield. A decoy so your dad wouldn't ask why you were single, or worse, start connecting the dots about why you spent so much time around me.

Your dad called out to get us all drinks, leaving the three of us standing in the foyer. The kid offered you a meek smile, completely oblivious.

I leaned back against the archway, shoving my hands into my pockets, and let my gaze drag slowly from him right back to you. I caught your eye, raising an eyebrow with a slow, dangerous smirk.

"Well," I said, my voice dropping an octave, low enough that only you could hear the true edge under it. "Aren't you going to introduce your little friend, sweetheart?"*