Page 29 of Wings
"Kiara! Mandy and I are having hot chocolate with marshmallows. Wanna come?" She bounced on her toes, hands clasped in front of her like an excited child.
Every muscle in my body locked.
"I . . . I should probably . . ." Words failed me completely.
But Mia had already grabbed my hand, her fingers warm and slightly sticky like she'd been eating candy. "Come on! Mandy makes the best hot chocolate. She uses real chocolate, not powder, and she has the tiny marshmallows and the big ones."
I found myself pulled from the booth, Gabe's amused chuckle following us. My hand in Mia's felt strange—when was the last time someone had held my hand just to hold it? Not romantic, not possessive, just the simple connection of friendship.
The kitchen blazed with light after the dimmer main room. Mandy stood at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like heaven. She'd changed into a onesie—stars andmoons against navy fabric—her red hair in pigtails tied with ribbons.
"Ki's joining us!" Mia announced, pulling me to the small table. "Is there enough chocolate?"
"Always enough chocolate," Mandy assured her, then looked at me with those sharp green eyes that seemed less sharp now, softer somehow. "How do you like your hot chocolate? Extra chocolate? Whipped cream? Cinnamon?"
"I—" My voice cracked. They were both so comfortable, so easy in their little space. No shame, no fear, no constantly checking over their shoulders for judgment or danger.
"Oh! Gabe!" Mia spotted him in the doorway. "You want some too?"
He'd followed us, probably to make sure I was okay. The prosthetic was back on, his gait evening out as he entered the kitchen. "If there's enough."
"Mandy always makes extra," Mia confided to me in a stage whisper. "She says it's because Thor drinks so much, but really I think she just likes taking care of people."
Mandy blushed but didn't deny it, pouring chocolate into mugs with careful precision. Each mug was different—Mia's had unicorns (of course), Mandy's had stars, mine had butterflies I tried not to read too much into, and Gabe's was plain black with a chip on the handle.
"Marshmallows?" Mandy asked, holding up two bags.
"Both!" Mia said immediately. "The big ones float better but the little ones taste better in the first sip."
The logic of it, delivered with such certainty, made me smile despite myself. This was what I'd missed, what I'd craved—the ability to care about marshmallow sizes without apology.
Gabe settled next to me at the small table, close enough our knees touched. The contact grounded me as conversation flowed around us. Favorite Disney movies—Mia loved Tangled, Mandypreferred Moana. Best crayons—definitely the 64-pack with the sharpener built in. Whether unicorns or dragons were cooler—a debate that got surprisingly heated.
"What about you, Kiara?" Mia asked suddenly. "Unicorns or dragons?"
"Um, both?" I offered weakly. "Maybe dragon-unicorns? Dragicorns?"
"Ooh!" Mia bounced in her seat. "With sparkly scales and healing powers!"
"And they breathe rainbow fire," Mandy added, getting into it.
"That only burns bad people," I found myself saying. "Good people just feel warm."
"Yes!" Mia clapped. "Perfect! We should draw some later. Do you like to color?"
The question hung innocent and loaded. Beside me, Gabe shifted slightly, his knee pressing more firmly against mine. Silent support.
"Sometimes," I admitted carefully.
"What's your favorite stuffie?" Mia continued, oblivious to my internal crisis. "Mine's Mr. Patches—he's a bunny Duke won for me at the fair. Mandy has a whole collection, but her favorite is—"
"Classified information," Mandy interrupted with mock seriousness.
"It's a turtle," Mia stage-whispered. "Named Shelly. She talks to him when she thinks no one's listening."
"Betrayal!" Mandy gasped, but she was smiling.
They were so easy with each other, so safe in their vulnerability. When Mia asked about my favorite stuffie, the words almost escaped. Mr. Butterscotch.
