I nodded, whispering, “Yeah. Two sides at least.” I tilted my head and asked, “Is your mom proud of you now?”

“Oh, of course. She tells everyone at church and anyone who’ll listen that her son is a decorated soldier. From my town, it’s kind of a big deal.” It was beyond adorable to see him turn shy and even a little embarrassed.

“Local celebrity,” I teased, leaning into his shoulder.

“Right,” he said, smiling. “Not like Austin,” he joked, as we heard my brother yelling again.

“What’s your mom like? I bet she’s—”

“We should probably go inside. You’re the chaperone, and if it stays this loud, the MPs will definitely come.”

I was well aware that he was avoiding my question, but I had already gotten more out of him than usual, so I decided not to be greedy. It was almost his birthday, after all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The party had quieted down after a few warnings to my brother about the Military Police coming. The coffee table was littered with beer bottles and plastic cups; the game controller sat idle in front of the TV. Limp bodies covered the couch and a few people had made themselves comfortable on the floor. It was mostly guys (and mostly soldiers), except for the girl who earlier had been entwined with Austin. She was sitting alone on the floor now, moving slightly to the music, her shoulders doing this chill dance. Basically, she was doing that thing you do when you’re all alone at a party and you want to say It’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine.

“Do you need another drink?” I asked Kael.

He held up his beer, shaking the empty bottle. “Yeah, please.”

We made our way out of the living room, stepping carefully over denim-clad limbs. The kitchen was empty of people. Estelle’s attempts at what she called French Country décor—a dish towel that said Café, a ceramic rooster, a little metal Boulangerie sign that Elodie says Estelle pronounces wrong—were visible among the litter of empty bottles and pizza boxes. Still, seeing Kael here against the backdrop of so many familiar things, feeling him next to me, watching me, in the small space of this kitchen, made me anxious . . . He seemed outsized now, larger than life, and when I scooted past him, I almost elbowed him in the rib cage. He inched farther away from me, toward the fridge. Of course, I needed to get ice from the tray in the freezer.

“Sorry,” he said, nearly tripping over my feet to get out of my way.

“It’s fine,” I told him, my words blending together.