Page 24 of Welded Defender
“Everything,” I admit, clutching my purse strap. “I’ve only got the basics. Bed. Table. Some kitchen stuff Landon scrounged up.”
“Then we’re fixing that.” She dives into a rack of mugs and emerges holding a chipped one that saysWorld’s Okayest Mom.“This feels like a must.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine. But if you see anything you like, don’t overthink it. Just grab it.”
I try. At first, my hand hovers over items and falls back. But then I spot a soft plaid blanket draped over a bin. The edges are frayed, but the colors remind me of autumn leaves—warm and grounding. I touch it, and something in my chest loosens.
“That one,” Nova says, catching the look on my face. “Good call.”
Soon, I’ve got a small stack: the blanket, a set of mismatched plates with little blue flowers, a lamp with a stained-glass shade that makes me think of late-night reading, and a ceramic cat figurine that’s so ridiculous it makes me smile.
“See?” Nova says, balancing a pile of scarves on her arm. “You’re a natural.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, but there’s warmth spreading through me. Each item feels like a piece of a life I might actually want.
At the clothing racks, Nova’s fingers flutter through hangers like hummingbird wings, pulling out a moss-green sweater, then dark-wash jeans. “Just try them,” she says, pressing the stack into my arms.
When I step out of the dressing room, Nova grins.
“What?” I ask, resisting the urge to retreat back behind the flimsy door.
“You look like yourself,” Nova says.
The words catch me off guard. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “I mean, you look comfortable. Like you’re not hiding or pretending. It’s a good look on you.”
Something hot pricks behind my eyes. I duck my head, pretending to smooth the sweater. “Thanks.”
By the time we slide into a booth at the Indian restaurant, I’m smiling without realizing it. The space feels warm and inviting, golden light dancing across red curtains and plush velvet cushions.
“Hey Ravi,” Nova waves toward the counter, where a man grins in recognition before turning back to his customer.
“That’s one of the guys from the shop, right?” I ask. I’d seen his photo with the crew, but he hasn’t been by to work yet.
“Yep. His family owns this place. He’s basically everyone’s honorary cousin.” She passes me a menu. “He’s not working at the shop as much because his sister is pregnant and on bedrest. He’s been helping his parents out here.”
When a woman old enough to be my mom takes our order, she greets Nova by name. The easy familiarity between them makes my chest ache in a way I can’t quite name. This is what belonging looks like. What closeness feels like. Things I’ve never really had. Even before Brett, I never experienced the kind of connection these people seem to share naturally. The city didn’t allow for that—too many people, all too busy with their own lives to worry about yours. Even my parents had always been consumed by work. I was their only child, but they spent more time at the office than with me. I wonder how different my life might have been if we’d been more like Nova and Landon, or Ravi and his family. Would Brett have been able to weasel his way in so easily?
As we eat, Nova studies me over her spoon. “You know… I like you.”
I choke on my curry. “Um, thanks…?”
She grins. “You’re different from the girls Landon has dated before. You’re strong—not expecting him to save you or fix everything for you.”
My cheeks burn. “Nova, we’re not?—”
She smirks, leaning forward. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not dating. Whether you are or not, I’m just saying—you’ve got this quiet strength about you. And Landon…” Her smirk softens into something more genuine. “Well, let’s just say he’s noticed. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”
I stare down at my food, heart hammering against my ribs. I want to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s reading too much into things. But the truth is… I honestly don’t know.
All I know is that when Landon looks at me—really looks at me—it feels like he sees straight through to parts of myself I keep hidden. And instead of making me want to run, it makes me want to believe what I see reflected in his eyes.
By the time we finish eating, my stomach is pleasantly full and my cheeks ache from laughing so hard. As we walk back toward the car, I catch myself wishing this day could stretch on forever, that the moment we return to reality I won’t feel the crushing weight of everything waiting for me there.
Because for the first time in too long, it doesn’t feel like I’m just surviving.
