Brody and I had been invited over for what Caelyn had called family dinner. It had been a blast, with more food consumed than I would’ve thought possible, a raucous game of soccer, and then s’mores. Kenna and Crosby had just left to take their little girl home, and the kids had gone inside to watch a movie. Now, only the seven of us were left, enjoying the fire and the company.

It seemed that it had happened. I kept stepping forward into that terrifying unknown, and suddenly I had a group of friends. Ones that invited us over for family dinners and made me feel incredibly welcome.

Hunter tipped his beer towards Ford. “Don’t forget, Mom wants us at the house at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Ford groaned and sent a pointed stare at his fiancée. “I blame you for this decorating bug she has.”

Bell pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “All you have to do is paint a room. It’s not that bad.”

“For the fourth time in the past three months,” Ford groused.

Bell shrugged. “At least the room isn’t that big.”

“Then you paint it.”

“Sorry, Cupcake. I have to work tomorrow,” Bell said, taking another sip of her beer.

He looked to Brody and me for help. “Tell me, when does family obligation run out? On the fifth request for repainting? Or the tenth?”

My chest gave a painful squeeze at the question. It was a harmless comment, but I couldn’t seem to control the pain it left in its wake. The knowledge that my parents would never hound me into doing something that was the last thing on my list. I wouldn’t whine and complain about having to get up early on a Saturday to do it. Because they were gone.

Ford winced. “Oh shit, I stepped in it, didn’t I?”

He must’ve been able to read the grief on my face. The rest of the group clearly could too if their looks of sympathy were anything to go by. I gave my head a small shake. “No. It’s—” I was about to say that it was nothing, but that wasn’t how I was living anymore, from lie to half-truth. I didn’t need to hide from any of the people around this fire pit.

Brody’s hand found mine and gave an encouraging squeeze. I soaked in every ounce of strength I could from the palm-to-palm contact. “My parents were killed. It’s been a long time, but every now and then, something takes me by surprise.” I gave Ford the best smile I could. “It’s not your fault, really.”

“I’m still sorry,” he muttered.