Page 77 of Caden & Theo

I head back to the porch and settle into my chair just as a car pulls into the driveway next door. The headlights wash over the faded siding of the Norths’ old place, casting it in that eerie soft glow that makes it feel alive for a split second. Like the past is reaching out just enough to say hello.

Two days.

Two days until I see Caden again.

If he shows.

I grip the neck of the beer bottle a little tighter and whisper to the quiet night, “Please show.”

Because I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires reaches me, and I glance down the driveway to see the boxy silhouette of Miles’s pickup trundling into place. The porch light glints off the hood, highlighting the dull paint and a smear of dirt across the side panel.

He climbs out slowly, like he always does, with a Tupperware container tucked under one arm and a paper sack swinging from the other. He doesn’t say anything until he’s on the first step, then grunts, “I hope you’re hungry.”

“You know I am,” I say, reaching for the bag like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Rose packed extra hush puppies,” he mutters as he drops into the chair beside me. “She said you looked ‘thin and stressed’ last time she saw you.”

“She’s not wrong.”

He shrugs, cracks open a beer from the sack, and hands me one too. I must look seriously sad if he’s passing me a beer despite the half-full one in my hand.

We sit in silence for a moment, both of us digging into the fried chicken and sides like men who’ve earned their keep. The food’s greasy and glorious and makes the weight of the day soften a little around the edges.

The sun’s set now, leaving the yard steeped in navy shadows. The air smells like damp pine and fried batter. Miles is halfway through his thigh when he speaks again. “You know I’m not one to spread rumors,” he says, wiping his mouth with an already messy napkin. “But I think it might cheer you up.”

I glance over at him. “What?”

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “I heard someone talking down at Stanley’s Hardware this morning. They said Caden was calling around last week asking about rental cars.”

My chest goes tight. “Really?”

“It could just be gossip. You know how people are.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to let too much hope rise too fast. “Still… thanks for telling me.”

Miles shrugs again. “Of course, man. I didn’t want you to be blindsided.”

We go quiet again, the night humming gently around us. Miles doesn’t talk just to fill space. That’s something I’ve come to appreciate. The world is full of people who talk too much and say too little. Miles is the opposite. He says what he means, when it matters.

I look over at him. “You ever think about leaving this place?”

He lets out a slow breath. “Not really, which probably means there’s something wrong with me.” He smiles “I guess I like being needed, even if it’s just to unclog the elementary school toilets or patch drywall at Jeb’s Landscaping.”

“You ever… I don’t know. Regret never leaving?”

He takes his time answering before settling on “Sometimes, but every time I have to go to Atlanta and drive in that traffic, I get over it really quick.”

I laugh, the sound surprised and full. “That’s fair.”

He takes a swig of his beer, squinting out at the tree line. “Did your parents call today?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “They’re good. Still living the dream up in Asheville. Mom’s taking pottery classes. Dad’s golfing too much.”

Miles grunts. “I bet your dad’s driving the instructor nuts.”

“He’s probably corrected her form ten times already.”