Saturday afternoon had that kind of easy, late-winter sunlight that filtered through bare branches and made everything look sharper, cleaner. Gabriel’s text had been short: “Come over. Dad’s grilling. Might go for a walk after.”
When I pulled up, the scent of woodsmoke drifted from the backyard. His grandparents’ cape cod sat quiet among the trees, bird feeders swaying in the breeze. This time, the porch was full of wildlife—squirrels, doves, a couple of fat raccoons picking through spilled seed. But the second I stepped out of the truck, the whole lot scattered like I’d dropped a stick of dynamite. Gabriel caught the movement through the window and smirked as I came in.
“Still your fan club,” he teased.
“Guess I don’t pass their vibe check,” I said, kicking my boots off by the door.
Nathan was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a soda in his hand. He glanced up, saw me, and immediately took a long sip like the carbonation might be a shield. Then, with a muttered, “I’m out,” he disappeared into the den.
Gabriel grinned. “It’s like living with a rabbit that’s seen a hawk too many times.”
We ended up on the back deck with his dad, Jim, who was tending the grill with a pair of tongs and the kind of calm only people who love cooking outdoors seem to have. “Burgers in ten,” Jim said, glancing up at me. “You eat like a normal guy or should I make these… rarer?”
Gabriel choked on his iced tea, laughing. I shrugged. “Rarer’s fine.”
After lunch, we cut through the woods toward the neighborhood park. Gabriel had his hood up, hands stuffed in his pockets, but there was something in his stride—looser, less guarded than I’d seen at school. Every so often, he’d flick me a sideways look, like he was still processing the fact that The Reveal hadn’t been a dream.
We hit the basketball court where a few guys from school were hanging out. One of them—Jake, the type who thought his varsity jacket was a crown—grinned when he saw Gabriel. “Hey, I know you. You’re the guy who—” He made a limp-wristed gesture, the kind meant to humiliate. His buddies snickered.
I felt my hackles lift, but before I could move, Gabriel stepped forward. Just enough. Not aggressive, not backing down either. “You got something to say, Jake, or are you just bad at charades?”
Jake blinked, clearly not expecting pushback. “Just messing around.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said, his tone flat, “you’re hilarious.” He didn’t break eye contact until Jake looked away.
The moment Jake did, I shifted just enough in his peripheral—no words, no threats, just the kind of stillness predators use. His pulse jumped; I could smell it. He muttered something about needing a drink and walked off.
Gabriel waited until they were out of earshot before he looked at me, the edge of a grin playing at his mouth. “You didn’t even touch him.”
“Didn’t have to,” I said.
We kept walking, side by side. For the rest of the afternoon, the park felt like it belonged to us—our unspoken agreement holding it safe.
That night, Gabriel texted me. “You up?”
I called instead of answering. “What’s up?”
He was quiet for a second. “I don’t know… I just… today felt different. Like, when Jake pulled that crap… I didn’t freeze. I didn’t back down.”
“You didn’t have to,” I said. “You stood your ground. That’s the whole trick.”
“Yeah, but… I think it’s ‘cause you were there.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe at first. But you carried it yourself.”
There was a pause, then a softer, “Thanks. For… y’know. Not letting people walk over me.”
“Anytime,” I said. And I meant it.