The kitchen was as cheery as the exterior of the house. She’d recently repainted the cabinets a bright turquoise and traded her mother’s old stainless-steel appliances for a retro brand in bright red. In the center sat a 1950s-style café table surrounded by red vinyl chairs.

“Hey,” Lexa said breezily over her shoulder. Too breezily.

“Hey. Something—” His voice and mind stopped working when she turned around. She wore her hair in a long braid over one shoulder, and she’d wrapped a wide flowery scarf thing like a headband around the crown of her head. Several curls had sprung free and hugged the curve of her cheeks. Dangly earrings hung from her earlobes, and as she walked toward him, the sleeve of her long blue dress slipped down to reveal one creamy shoulder. She tugged it up absently, apparently unaware that tiny flash of skin had just taken a year off his life.

She smiled, but there was a brittle quality to it. “Something what?”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Oh. Sorry. Something smells good.”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “I made way more food than I needed to.”

“Per usual.”

Alexis lived in fear of people starving to death. He’d never once left her house without enough leftovers to last him at least three meals. But he sensed that today’s overabundance had more to do with her needing a distraction than anything else. He knew the feeling.

A timer on the stove sent Noah into cardiac arrest.

“The mushrooms your sister likes,” she explained.

Alexis pulled a foil-covered dish from the oven and set it on the counter. Then she retrieved something from the warming drawer. “I also made a big batch of cheesy potatoes for your mom. And for you . . . ,” she said with dramatic flair as she removed the dome off an opaque cake plate. “Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

She’d made his favorite cake for his birthday. The tightness in his chest became a thickness in his throat.

Her smile this time was almost shy. “Happy birthday.”

“It—It looks amazing,” he rasped.

Alexis held his gaze for a moment before doing another one of those half-hearted shrugs. “What’re friends for, right?”

“Lexa—”

She replaced the dome over the cake. “I need to grab my purse from upstairs and feed Beefcake. Do you mind carrying the food out to the car?”

“Sure.”

It took him two trips to carry it all out, and then he waited by the front door while Lexa got Beefcake settled on his perch of discontent on the back of the couch. He held her coat for her, a long, red vintage thing that she’d found in a thrift shop. With a quiet thanks, she waited for him to go out first before pulling the door shut and locking it.

“I found some new music for us to try,” she said as they got into the car.

He checked the mirrors and then pulled his seat belt on. “Plug it in.”

As he backed out of the driveway, Alexis connected her phone to the car’s USB port and then hit play. A folksy, twangy sound filled the car—a harmony of banjos and fiddles and acoustic guitars. After a moment, his thumbs began to beat the steering wheel in time to the banjo.

“I like it,” he said.

She grinned at him. “Good. Because they’re going on tour and coming to Nashville in a few months, and I bought us tickets.”

He laughed. “What if I’d hated them?”

“You’d be too polite to say so and would then endure a horrible concert on my behalf.”

“Accurate.”

She turned up the volume. “This one is my favorite.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lean her head against the seat and close her eyes. Alexis didn’t just listen to music. She existed in it, lived in it, let it run through her and merge with her cells. The first concert they went to together, he’d spent more time watching her dance than the show itself. Hips swaying and arms raised and eyes closed as if she were alone in the world, dancing without a soul in sight. Which is why she was right; even if he’d hated this new band, he would’ve taken her to the concert. But he wouldn’t have had to endure anything. Just watching her enjoy it would have been enough for him.

The front door flew open almost as soon as Noah pulled into his mom’s driveway. A blur of bright red hair flew down the porch steps.

“Zoe dyed her hair again?” Alexis asked, affection in her voice.

“I’ve forgotten what her natural color is at this point,” he said.

Zoe bypassed his side of the car and instead skipped over to the passenger door.

Alexis opened her door, but before she could even get out, Zoe ducked down with a desperate expression. “Please tell me you brought food.”

Zoe was a vegetarian too.

“Stuffed mushrooms?” Alexis asked.

“Dear God, I love you.”

Noah snorted and told his sister to help them carry in the food. His mom greeted them in the foyer, balancing a large tray of raw steaks. “There you two are,” she said with a warm smile.

Noah bent to kiss her head. “Hey, Mom.”

She handed him the tray. “Just in time, birthday boy. Take these out to Marsh, will you? He’s out back fighting with the grill.”

Noah traded her the cake for the steaks, and then his mom extended her free arm to Alexis for a hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, drawing Alexis in for a quick squeeze. “I’m so nervous, because I made that spaghetti squash recipe you sent me, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as you’d make.”

“I’m sure it’s amazing,” Alexis said.

“She made stuffed mushrooms,” Zoe said with as much lust in her voice as Mack talking about centerpieces.

His mom looked over her shoulder at him. “Go on,” she said with a shooing motion. “Get those steaks on the grill. We girls have to do some talking.”

Alexis met his gaze and tried but failed to hide her smile. He’d just been dismissed from his own birthday party.

Noah turned left into the formal dining room and walked through the kitchen. His mother had lived there more than ten years, but it still felt like a strange house at times. Probably because he’d never actually lived there.

No, that wasn’t it. His father had never lived there. His presence was there in photos, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe that’s why his mom wanted to move. Her memories were harder than his. At least in this house, she didn’t have to think about the sight of a military car in the driveway. Didn’t have to remember looking out the window and seeing a uniformed marine and a chaplain walking up the sidewalk. Didn’t have to recall how her legs refused to work when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer it,” she whispered, her back pressed to the wall, arms crossed over her chest.

Noah went cold at the look on her face. “Who is it?”

“No one. It’s no one.” His mom said it quietly, frantically, as if wishing it to be true. And then her hand flew to her mouth.

Zoe clutched a throw pillow and drew her feet up onto the couch as if waiting to spring into action, climb the walls, fly straight out the window, anything to escape the fate that was now on the porch.

Noah trudged on wooden legs to the door and pulled it open.

Even then, Noah knew that some details would eventually fade. But he also knew that he would never, ever forget the sound of his mother’s scream as she collapsed to the floor.

The sliding glass door scraped across the aluminum track as Noah walked out back. Marsh stood at a rusty propane grill that was held together with duct tape and nostalgia. He wore faded jeans and a Nashville Legends T-shirt. He looked over his shoulder and bypassed any form of greeting. “Come help me with this thing.”

“Hi to you too.”

Marsh fiddled with the burner and hit the ignite button. It made a clicking noise but nothing else. Marsh swore and swiped his hands over his graying high-and-tight haircut. “Damn thing belongs in a scrapyard. Why the hell won’t she buy a new one?”

Noah bristled. “You know why.”

Because that was the grill they’d bought as a Father’s Day gift for his dad. The one his dad never got to use. Noah set the steaks down on the patio table and took over on the grill. He got it started on the first try. “You have to let the gas run for a minute before trying to ignite it.”

“Dinner is saved,” Marsh said dryly.

“Alexis brought enough food to feed the Airborne, so we could’ve eaten that and been fine.”

The sky-high arch of Marsh’s eyebrow meant he’d said too much. Marsh was always giving him shit about his relationship with Alexis.

Noah stabbed a raw slab of meat and threw it on the grill. Marsh swatted his hand away. “Not yet, dumbass. You have to let it get hot first. Haven’t you ever grilled a damn steak before?”

Noah rolled his eyes and stepped back.

“Grab us a couple of beers,” Marsh said, nodding with his chin to a cooler by the back door.

Noah grabbed two, twisted off the caps, and handed one to Marsh.

Marsh took a long drink and then belched. “You sleeping with her yet?”

Noah coughed and wiped the spittle of beer from his lips. “What the fuck, Marsh?”

Marsh chuckled and took another drink. “That’s a no.”

“My relationship with Alexis is none of your fucking business.”

“Hey,” Marsh snapped, pointing his beer like a weapon. “Watch your mouth.”

“Alexis and I are friends.”

Marsh threw a steak on the grill. “No such thing as friends between men and women.”

“If you’re trying out for Misogynist of the Year, you just won.”

Marsh tossed another steak onto the grill. “It’s biology. Men want to sleep with women, not hang out and talk with them.”

“Really? Does my mother know you feel that way?”

Marsh’s face hardened. “Watch it.”

“You get to give me shit but I can’t reciprocate?”