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I glance toward Laurel, who’s standing a few feet away, near the edge of the clearing where the bonfire is burning brightly, sending sparks spinning up into the overcast night sky.

Nervous is one word for it.

She stands stiffly beside Lucy, holding her hand, the other curled around a thermos as if for reassurance. Her dark clothing disappears almost completely into the night, but the flickering flames of the bonfire light up her auburn hair so it shines as bright as copper.

Out of the two, Lucy looks the calmest, which feels backwards, considering she’s only five.

“You think she’ll bolt?” Briggs asks as we set out the chairs in a rough semi-circle.

He means Laurel. I turn my head and watch her scanning the crowd. Most likely she’s tracking ways out of here. “Internally maybe,” I reply, counting on Lucy to keep her there, which feels immoral.

Ashby places the last chair with forensic precision, then straightens. “It’s progress,” he observes, exhaling softly through his nose.

The problem with honesty is that once it enters a room, it changes the shape of everything inside.

Three days ago we learned that we’re all falling for the same woman.

Now, every interaction feels carefully calibrated around that realization.

Nobody quite knows where to stand.

Including me.

Especially me.

Because Laurel still looks at me sometimes, and I can tell she’s remembering what happened between us on the plane. It happened before she landed in Redwood Run, before anything else. Before Maggie. Before Briggs and Ashby, and the web of complicated emotions surrounding us now. And every time she does, my chest goes tight in ways that feel increasingly unsustainable.

Lucy runs over, Laurel following, her expression hard to see. Ashby takes the thermos from her and arranges it on the wooden crate that serves as a table with the drinks and snacks we’re brought with us.

“Look at the bonfire, it’s huge,” the little girl exclaims, excitement as well as the red flicker of the fire lighting up her small face.

Briggs crouches beside her, making her seem even smaller. “Redwood Run believes in unnecessary spectacle,” he explains, then has to explain what a spectacle is.

“Anyway, that’s not true,” Ashby argues mildly when he’s done..

“You think so? Well, look over there.” Briggs points toward a man attempting to roast six hotdogs simultaneously with what appears to be a modified garden tool.

Ashby considers the scene briefly before acceding, “Fair point.”

Lucy giggles.

Laurel’s attention flies to her.

I swear she tracks Lucy’s happiness now the same way people monitor weather alerts.

Carefully. Hopefully.

It’s like she still can’t fully believe it exists.

We settle in for the evening, but our collective attention is caught a short time later when a familiar truck pulls over near Briggs’.

I watch the doors open. After a short pause, June gets out, carrying one of the twins in a sling. Evan hops out behind her and immediately gets the go ahead to run off and play with his friends. Wayne appears from the driver’s side, minus overalls, Rex gets out the back carrying the other twin over his shoulder with practiced ease. Last out is Fletcher, manhandling a huge cooler.

As soon as she sees them, Laurel walks over to chat with June, while the men start unloading chairs and blankets from the truck bed. Wayne, folding chair in hand, asks June something. The two women speak briefly, then Laurel turns to Wayne and gestures in our direction.

The men start carrying the stuff over to our spot, June and Laurel walking behind them more slowly, talking.

“They’re coming over,” Ashby says.