I crouch just in time, catching her mid-run and lifting her into my arms. “There’s my favorite Timberbridge,” I say, squeezing her tight before leaning back to study her face. “How are you, kiddo?”

She pouts dramatically. “Daddy said you were in town and didn’t come visit me.”

I glance at Hopper over her shoulder. He’s standing by the door with Nysa and shrugs.

Nysa, on the other hand, looks amused as fuck. “Yeah, Atlas,” she drawls. “That’s rude.”

I sigh, shifting Maddy on my hip. “I know. I got busy.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re always busy.”

“Tell you what,” I say, bumping my forehead lightly against hers, “next week, when the shop is closed, you get to pick what we do. Anything you want.”

Her eyes go wide. “Even ice cream for dinner?”

I smirk. “Even ice cream for dinner.”

Hopper scoffs. “Maybe ice cream after dinner.”

Maddy considers this, then nods solemnly. “Deal.”

Then, as if just noticing Blythe, she turns to her with wide, curious eyes.

“Are you my new aunt?”

Blythe blinks, clearly caught off-guard. “Oh. Uh⁠—”

I shift Maddy in my arms, nodding toward Blythe. “Mads, this is Blythe. Blythe, this is my favorite niece, Maddy.”

Maddy studies her for a long moment, then grins. “Hi, Blythe. You seem nice and very pretty.”

Blythe exhales a soft, surprised laugh. “Thank you.”

Maddy tilts her head. “Do you like Uncle Atlas?”

Blythe’s lips part slightly, eyes darting to me like she’s begging for an out.

Before she can come up with an answer, Nysa smirks, swirling her wine. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

I shoot her a look. “Don’t start.”

She shrugs all mock innocence. “What? I just think it’s funny that you got married and didn’t tell any of us. Especially me, your best friend.”

Blythe exhales quietly. I feel it—the smallest shift—her moving just a fraction closer.

Subtle. But I notice.

And so do they.

Hopper finally steps forward, clapping a hand on my shoulder before turning to Blythe. His gaze isn’t unkind, just assessing.

“Welcome to the family, Blythe. We’re a weird bunch, but if you can stand this asshole, you can stand us,” he states.

“Daddy said a bad word,” Maddy states. “You owe a dollar to the jar.”

“Just throw a hundred in the jar and give yourself a free week,” Ledger says, then turns to Blythe. “Are you hungry?”

She hesitates, her fingers twitching slightly before she nods.

“Good,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

And just like that, things aren’t as tense as they were when we arrived.

Dinner looks normal. Too fucking normal. Too fucking happy-small-town-family, if that’s a thing.

Lasagna, salad, and even fresh bread—Delilah’s doing, I’m sure. The whole spread is too put together, too much like some family tradition. Which it isn’t.