Page 98 of Filled

By the time we sit down, the chicken is roasted and the table is set with five plates and a candle.

Dinner is good. The food, the wine, the noise we make trying to fill the silence with something other than what we all know is coming. Cruz tells a story about Victor that has Dakota laughing into her napkin to avoid choking on what she was chewing.

Brady barely eats. Pushes his food into geometric arrangements. His wine glass empties faster than his plate, and I watch his eyes track Cruz’s throat as Cruz swallows, watch them dart away when Cruz looks up.

The living room is dim by the time we drift to it. Eli pours more drinks. We end up arranged around the couch and the floor, wine in hand, the conversation finally tipping from surface to something less formal.

“It feels strange.” Eli’s the one who finally acknowledges it. He’s seated in the armchair, elbows on his knees, glass heldthoughtfully between his hands. “Having all of you here. In my space. I keep this place... contained. For a reason.”

“For what reason?” Dakota’s voice is gentle.

“Because if no one comes in, no one sees what’s inside.”

Cruz speaks first, his voice rough around the edges. “We see you, Coach.”

“I know. That’s the strange part.”

Dakota stretches her legs across my lap from where she’s curled against Cruz on the couch. Her toes find Brady’s thigh on his other side, press lightly.

“I want to be there for everyone’s firsts,” she says, looking around at us. “Whatever that means for you.”

“Sweetheart.” Cruz catches her hand, kisses her knuckles. “You already are. I want to watch my family become more of themselves.” He says it offhand, the way Cruz says things that gut me. His eyes catch mine and hold. The man has no filter. He’s either balls-out crass as hell, or earnestly gentle.

I take a slow breath. “I want to be there for whoever needs it.” My voice comes out lower than I meant it to. “I’ve been where some of you are. The fear of wanting something you were taught was wrong. The terror of being all the way seen.”

Brady’s hands tighten around his glass.

I run a hand through my hair. “I want to give what I needed back then. Acceptance. No conditions on it.”

Brady’s eyes lift to mine for half a second. Drop again.

“Brady.” Dakota’s voice. Soft. “What do you want tonight?”

The silence stretches.

He turns the wine glass in his fingers. Once. Twice. “I need to watch. I need to see it with my own eyes. Need to know it’s real, that it’s… ” He swallows. “That it’s allowed. Before I can. I just need to see it first.”

“Okay.” Dakota’s voice doesn’t change. “Then that’s what tonight is.”

“That’s it?” Brady asks.

“That’s it. You watch. No one is going to bind you to expectation, this is where you’re free. Where you can be you without label or limit.” The soft smile on her face as she speaks to Brady is everything. And if I’m being honest, it makes my chest ache just a little.

Brady’s chin drops to his chest. Cruz reaches across Dakota and squeezes the back of Brady’s neck. Brady leans into it before he catches himself and pulls upright.

Eli sets his glass down. “Bedroom?”

Everyone moves, following Eli’s lead in silence to his bedroom. The overhead light goes off. The lamp by the bed comes on, painting everything in hues of gold. Eli’s bed is enormous and looks like it’s never had anyone in it but him.

We’re going to fix that.

Dakota goes to Eli first. Slides her hands up his chest, rises to her toes, kisses him slow. Grounding. He sighs into it like she’s the first deep breath he’s had all day.

Cruz finds me. His mouth is familiar, warm, his hand cupping my jaw the way he does. I let myself sink into it for a second before I open my eyes and look past him.

Brady’s against the wall, hands curled into fists at his sides, watching.

I kiss Cruz again, harder this time, give Brady something real to see.