Page 104 of That Moment
He grins but softens. “I’m serious, don’t make me get Aiden involved.”
The air shifts. His teasing fades, and what’s left is just my protective, stubborn, and annoyingly perceptive brother.
I drag in a breath, fingers toying with the edge of a folder. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I mean, yeah. I have feelings. I think he does too.” The words just keep coming, rule #3 echoing in my head. “But don’t say anything to him, okay? Don’t pull any brother bullshit. We’re just… taking it slow. Having fun. So don’t ruin it.”
Axel’s brow furrows. “I’m not trying to ruin anything. I just need to say this once. Scotty’s my friend, but you’re my sister first. If he screws this up?—”
“You’ll step in. Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand, laughing to lighten the air again. “We both know you’d swing first and ask questions later.”
He tilts his head, giving me that overly protective brother look. “You’re damn right.”
I grin back, the tension finally breaking when I think about him doing this same thing when we were kids. Ten years old, and he was already threatening to fight off anyone who hurt his sister. “Don’t worry so much. I’ve got this.”
“I hope you do,” he says, pushing to his feet. “Because I like the guy, but if he hurts you…”
I laugh and start herding him toward the door. “You’ll bury him behind the barn, I know.”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “Just making sure we’re clear.”
“Crystal,” I say, shoving his arm lightly. “Now get out of my office before you scare off my next meeting.”
He chuckles, backing out. “Just know that I’ll find out if he does something.”
“Bye, Axel.”
The door clicks shut, and I lean back in my chair with a long exhale, a smile tugging at my mouth. My heart’s still pounding, but this time it’s not nerves, it’s excitement.
It’s beena couple of days since Axel ambushed me in my office, and the echo of that conversation still sits in my chest. So, tonight, I drive out to my parents’ place after work, hoping a little fresh air and my mom’s garden magic will quiet my brain.
The sun’s just starting to dip behind the ridge, painting everything in pastels. The air smells like dirt and basil, the kindof scent that instantly drops my shoulders three inches. I slip off my heels on the edge of the porch and pad barefoot across the soft grass to where Mom’s crouched between the tomato vines.
“You’re late,” she says without looking up, voice light and teasing.
“I brought wine,” I counter, holding up the bottle dangling from my hand.
That earns me a smile. “Then you’re forgiven. Grab that basket for me, will you?”
I do, crouching beside her as she starts plucking ripe tomatoes from the vine, her movements slow and methodical. She’s still got the same steady patience she had when we were kids, like the world could be on fire, and she’d still take the time to do things right. I guess that’s the kind of patience having triplets gives you.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” she says, not looking at me, but I know she’s paying attention. “And when you’re quiet, you’re thinking too much.”
I laugh under my breath, trying to keep it light. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“It’s not bad. Just means something’s brewing up here.” She taps her temple with a muddy finger. “You’ve always been my over-thinker.”
I pluck a cherry tomato and drop it into the basket, watching the way her wedding ring catches the fading light. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
She hums, skeptical. “Mmhmm. You always said that when you were ten and lying about not wanting to talk about your feelings when something would happen at school.”
That pulls a reluctant grin out of me. “You remember everything, don’t you?”
“I try. Keeps you kids from pulling one over on me.” She stands, knees popping, and I follow her up, brushing the dirt off my skirt.
We head toward the porch, the cicadas starting up their evening chorus. Mom sets the basket on the table, then gestures toward the swing. “Sit. You look like you could use it.”
I sink onto the swing beside her, the old chains creaking in a familiar rhythm. We sit there for a while in comfortable silence, sipping the wine I brought, watching the sky deepen into hues of blue and purple.
Mom’s the one who breaks it. “So, what’s really going on, sweetheart?”
