Page 98 of Where We Call Home

“If Indie was there. Your precious routine would still be intact.”

“That precious routine,” I repeated, mock-serious, “is what keeps me sane.”

Routine was one of the few things in my life I had complete control over, and I clung to it for the comfort and stability.

“It’s admirable,” Theo said softly, her gaze shifting out the windshield.

“You think so?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah. You’ve clearly worked hard to overcome some serious stuff. I didn’t mean to minimize it.” Her voice carried a note of regret, and I realized my joking must have come off as defensive, though it hadn’t been.

“Honey,” I said gently, “I was kidding. I know you weren’t making fun of it. Let’s be real—I think you kind of like my routine.”

She laughed and leaned her head back, the loose strands of her hair falling from her pigtails, framing her face in a way that made my chest tighten.

“Honestly? Yeah, I kind of do,” she admitted. “I used to thrive on spontaneity, but now I’m starting to appreciate settling down and finding structure.”

I nodded, understanding what she meant. Even I felt I wasn’t the same man when we first met.

When the truck came to a stop in front of the store, I turned to her. “Want to come in or wait here?”

“I’ll come in,” she said, but then her expression shifted to one of confusion. “You’ve got something on your face.”

I reached for the visor mirror to check, but as I pulled it down, a small photo slipped out and landed in my lap.

“What’s that?” Theo asked, already reaching for it. She picked it up, her fingers delicate as she held it. Her face softened, her cheeks flushing a light pink as her eyes focused on the picture.

“You kept it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared at me, her eyes glassy and wide with disbelief.

“Yeah,” I admitted, my gaze steady on her. “I like it. I’d put it on the dashboard, but we said our eyes only, remember?”

She smiled then, running her fingertips lightly over the colors on the photo like she could touch the memory itself. I’d chosen the one where she was smiling—not that I didn’t appreciate the other photos, especially the one where she was practically naked. However, it was that smile, so unguarded and full of life, that made my heart stop every time I saw it.

“I’d be okay if you did…” She paused, clearing her throat before handing me the photo back. “Put it there.”

Those words felt like a silent nudge that she was okay with people seeing her in my life, seeing that maybe she was something a little more. I didn’t press but nodded, taking that picture and placing it front and center along the plastic of my dash.

My Theo.

We were in and out of the store faster than I expected. Apparently, last-minute grocery shopping on Thanksgiving wasn’t much of a thing in Faircloud. Just as Theo had predicted, Indie was working the register.

She lit up the moment she saw Theo—bright smiles, cheerful energy, the whole package. It was the same every time we came in together. When I came alone? Flat smiles. Minimal enthusiasm. Like she was counting the minutes until her shift ended.

Was it me?

Theo was still laughing as we made our way back to the truck, clearly enjoying the little show Indie put on for her. I couldn’t help but laugh too, the stark contrast between how Indie treated us hitting me as ridiculous.

“Is it something I say?” I asked as I opened the truck door for Theo to climb in.

“I think it’s what youdon’tsay,” she replied, settling into her seat. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile and ask how her day’s going. People feed off energy, you know.”

I nodded, humming in acknowledgment. I hadn’t really thought about it like that before.

“So… you’re telling me it’s my face?” I asked, smirking as I leaned against the open door.

Theo tilted her head from side to side, lips pursed in mock deliberation. “Youdohave a bit of an RBF.”

My eyebrows shot up. “An RBF?” I echoed.

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