Page 112 of Cold Mercy

“Morning!” she announces. “I’m late, I know, don’t yell at me.”

James pushes his chair back and laughs. “Everyone, this is my little sister, Maya.”

She waves enthusiastically, then nudges Charles's shoulder with the back of her hand.

“And guess what? Mom and Dad get here tomorrow, and apparently they ‘need their space.’ So congratulations, you’re rooming with me for the rest of the week.”

Charles groans. “Maya, come on—”

“Don’t whine,” she cuts in, grabbing a piece of toast off his plate without asking. “You’ll survive. I’ll even try not to suffocate you in your sleep, but no promises.”

Everyone laughs, except Charles.

His hand drops from the back of Sophia’s chair, slow and reluctant, and he shoots one last look at me like he’s checking whether I’m enjoying this too much.

Hell yeah, I am. He stands, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Fine. Let’s go get your stuff into the room before you make me carry you too.” he tells her.

She grins, links her arm with his, and they disappear upstairs.

Sophia glances across the table to check where I am. It’s quick, barely noticeable.

Every few minutes, between sips of tea or while listening to Elizabeth's friend tell a story, her eyes flick toward me again. Like she’s making sure I haven’t vanished.

And that’s enough for me. God, that's more than enough.

After breakfast, people start drifting off. Some grab the bikes leaning against the shed, others head for the dock with towels over their shoulders. The whole place feels like a summer camp for adults with too much emotional baggage.

Elizabeth claps her hands, getting everyone’s attention.

“Tomorrow the setup team arrives. Tents, lights, arch, everything. So tonight we’re doing a big bonfire. All of us, no excuses. I want at least one night of chaos before this turns into a designer wedding magazine.”

Everyone cheers.

“That means we need to clear the patio, babe,” James groans.

“Yes,” Elizabeth sings, ‘we’ means you two strong men.” She points between James and me, grinning.

We stay behind while the others scatter and begin stacking chairs, wiping down tables, sorting boxes of candles and lanterns. For a while, we work in comfortable silence, until James glances over at me, his expression shifting from joking to something weightier.

“Hey,” he says “don’t fuck this up again.”

I freeze mid-motion.

“I don’t care what happened between you and Sophia. I don’t want the details. But I watched you walk away once, and I watched what it did to her. And I’m not watching that happen here.” He continues.

I swallow hard.

“If you’re here, be here. Don’t run, don’t disappear. And don’t hurt her again, understood?”

I nod once, unable to say anything.

“Good,” he mutters, slapping my shoulder before walking off to grab another stack of chairs.

The moment he leaves my side, I do a quick sweep of the house, expecting to catch Sophia and Charles sneaking off somewhere. But he is in the living room, sitting with Maya, laughing over something on her phone.

James returns to grab his drink and nods toward the doors.