Page 18

SUPERHERO POSE

LUKE

I can still hear Claire’s heels click out the front doors like a slow drumbeat of poor decisions I didn’t make but still feel responsible for.

She didn’t even look back. She never does. Not when she’s already convinced herself the room still wants her in it.

The problem is, she was right. For a moment. Too long of one.

I didn’t know Stella would be here today. Ruth usually brings Lilly. Had I known… I would’ve cleared the schedule, rescheduled Claire’s visit, locked the damn doors… something. But I didn’t.

And now the one woman I actually want to stick around is walking away like she knew this would happen. Like she expected it. Like I proved her right for keeping one foot out the door the entire time.

The way she looked at me was like I’d just handed her a reason to run—again.

I tried to explain. Tried to speak. But she cut me off with that calm, distant tone that says she’s already made up her mind to be fine about it.

Not actually fine.

Performing fine.

And there’s a difference.

I know that difference now. I’ve been watching it flicker across her face for weeks, especially when she’s trying not to show she cares.

And the worst part?

I get it.

Claire isn’t just back in my space. She’s in hers . The look in Stella’s eyes when I introduced them was pure steel. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t break. But I could feel the wall lock into place between us, like she was laying the bricks herself.

I rub the back of my neck, pacing behind the front desk as the last of the kids file into the climbing area. Lilly waves at me, eyes bright and full of six-year-old energy I don’t deserve today.

I wave back and force a smile.

It’s not her fault. None of this is.

Claire turned today’s visit into a full-on performance, smiling wider, leaning closer, turning every conversation into a callback to us. There is no us. Not anymore. Not in business. Not in life. But Claire doesn’t seem to get that.

Or maybe she does. And just doesn’t care.

Either way, she’s using every angle she’s got.

And one of those angles is Stella.

She saw the way I looked at her. Saw the shift. The momentary lapse in attention.

And like clockwork, she turned up the charm. The contact. The subtle digs. She went full production.

I should’ve shut it down sooner.

Now? Now, I’m stuck between the woman who walked out when I was ready to give her everything… and the woman who left me her number on a Post-it and still made me feel like the lucky one.

And yeah, maybe I’ve got no right to expect anything from Stella. We never defined this. We’re still dancing around whatever this even is.

But I know one thing, I’m not letting Claire be the reason it ends before it begins.

The kiddie class runs smooth, despite the weight pressing on my chest the whole time.

Lilly nails her balance drills, and when she scampers up the wall, she’s all wide eyes and fearless grins. She reminds me of Stella—strong and bright and stubborn in the best kind of way. She is, by far, one of the top climbers in this class. She’ll be ready to move to the next level soon.

I help her unclip from the belay rope and give her a fist bump. “Nice work, kiddo.”

She beams. “I did the superhero pose, did you see?”

I smile. “Sure did. You might’ve just out-climbed everyone in the class.”

Her giggle trails off as she runs toward the exit where Stella’s waiting, arms crossed, camera bag slung over her shoulder. She’s watching, like she never really stopped, even when she pretended she wasn’t.

I clean up gear faster than usual. I can’t let her walk out without saying something.

As Lilly runs ahead toward the front doors, Stella lingers. Just enough for me to catch up.

“Stella.”

She turns, slow. Controlled. Her face unreadable.

I stop a few feet from her, hands loose at my sides. “Look, I know today wasn’t exactly”—I pause—“ideal.”

Her mouth twitches like she wants to tell me that’s the understatement of the year, but she doesn’t.

I press on. “I want to explain. Really explain. Not standing here. Not rushed. No surprises.”

She studies me for a beat. “You’re talking about dinner.”

“Yeah. Me. You. A conversation. With food.”

“Not the Trading Post.”

“God, no,” I say with a half-smile. “Somewhere we can actually hear each other talk.”

She hesitates. And for a second, I think she’s going to say no.

But then she nods. Just once.

“Alright. But I’m not promising I’ll believe whatever you say.”

“Fair enough.” I take a step back to give her space to walk away. “Seven work?”

She gives a quick shrug that somehow feels more like a yes than anything else.

And then she’s gone. But this time, she’s not running.

She’s walking. Measured. Controlled.

And for the first time all day, I let myself breathe.

I inhale deep, force it down, and walk toward my office but with a practiced smile and a clipboard in hand so no one can tell I’m not focused.

My head’s somewhere else entirely.

Because whatever this thing with Stella is—or could be—I’m not ready to let it go.

Not without trying.

Not without a fight.

I check the address on my phone again, then double-check the house number. The front porch light’s on, and the trim is painted the kind of deep blue that says someone cares enough to add character—but not so much that they’re trying to impress anyone.

Feels like Stella.

I step onto the porch, straighten the collar of my button-down, and knock twice.

I hear movement inside—quick footsteps, a muffled, “Wait, wait, I got it!”

The door swings open, and there she is. Lilly. Beaming. Hair wild like it was when she took off her climbing helmet after her class today. Rocking Rainbow Dash My Little Pony pajama pants.

“LUKE?” she shrieks, like I’ve just stepped off a parade float. “You’re at my HOUSE!”

She throws her arms around my waist without hesitation, and I barely catch her in time. I laugh, bracing her tiny frame and looking over her shoulder, half expecting Stella to come racing down the hall to shoo her off me.

Nope. Just another tiny whirlwind named Lilly.

“Hi to you, too,” I say, chuckling. “Didn’t know I was a celebrity.”

“You teach me climbing,” she says, dead serious as she steps backward. “That makes you cool. Wanna see my room? I got a stuffed bat. His name is Fang.”

I open my mouth, maybe to say yes, maybe to laugh again, but another voice cuts in.

“Lilly Bug, what did we say about ambushing guests?”

A women I assume to be Harper, Stella’s sister, appears behind her, casually stunning in leggings and a soft oversized tee, her hair up in a clip, face scrubbed clean. She gives me a grin that lands somewhere between amused and curious.

“I’m Harper,” she says, extending a hand. “This wild thing’s mom.”

“Luke.” I shake her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Lilly pouts beside her. “Mr. Luke really needs to see my bat.”

“Go get it, quickly. Mr. Luke isn’t here for you, Lilly Bug,” Harper says, steering her toward the living room. “Let’s give your Aunt Stella a few more minutes to work her magic.”

Lilly sighs dramatically and disappears down the hall.

She motions for me to come in. Then, she crosses the entry way into a cozy little living room. I sit on the couch and she sits in the chair across from me.

“Just so you know, she almost cancelled.”

I nod slowly. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

“She doesn’t let people in easily. Even good ones.” Harper tilts her head. “Especially good ones.”

I shift my weight, elbows on my knees. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”

Her eyes scan me. Not judging, just studying. Like she’s weighing the pieces of her sister I might be holding onto, even if Stella won’t admit it yet.

“She really likes you,” Harper says eventually. “She’ll never say it like that, but she does.”

My throat tightens just a little. “I like her, too. A lot.”

“She’s good at pushing people away before they can do it first. You planning on sticking around?”

“Planning on it,” I say, honest and steady.

Harper gives a small, satisfied nod. “Then don’t screw it up.”

I laugh under my breath. “That’s the plan.”

Before she can say more, a voice calls down the hallway. “Lilly, did you hide my other shoe again?”

Harper snorts. “And that would be your date.”

I watch as she walks off to locate the rogue footwear, but not before she tosses one more smile over her shoulder.

“She’s worth the trouble,” she says.

And somehow, I know I’ve just made an ally.

Stella slides into the passenger seat with a muttered, “Sorry for the delay. Shoe crisis.”

She’s breathless, flushed from rushing, and still managing to look like she didn’t even try. Hair half up, mascara smudged just enough to know she’s human.

“Totally worth the wait,” I say, and mean it.

She doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close. “Flattery won’t get you out of awkward dinner conversation.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” I say as I pull away from the curb. “But I’ll keep it in my back pocket just in case.”

She smiles at that, quiet but real. Her shoulders loosen, and the tension that had been riding shotgun with her melts a little into the seat.

A few blocks pass in silence. Easy. Companionable. Like this isn’t our first time doing this—like it could be one of many.

“She’s something else,” I say, nodding back toward the house.

“Who, Harper or Lilly?” she asks.

“Both. But I meant Harper. I like her.”

“She liked you, too,” Stella replies, glancing sideways. “Which is rare. You got the stamp of approval.”

“Good. I liked her vibe. Protective, but not overbearing.”

“She’s been that way since we were kids,” Stella says with a small laugh. “Even though she’s younger than me.”

“She looked at me like she was deciding if I was a threat.”

“And?”

“I think I passed.”

A beat.

“I think you did, too,” Stella says softly, then looks out the window like she didn’t just say something huge.

I let the moment stretch. Let the silence say everything we’re not quite ready to say out loud.

“Lilly’s awesome, by the way,” I offer, just to break it gently. “She’s got this light about her. Sharp, funny… fearless.”