Chapter 143: Hundred and Forty Three

The morning of the trip started with Noah thundering down the hallway like it was Christmas.

“Mommy! Mommy, are you ready? Is Declan here yet? Did you pack snacks? I brought my soccer ball. Can I bring that? Do you think fish live in that lake? Can we catch one? Mommy, do fish sleep?”

I rubbed my temple and smiled despite myself. He hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet, and he was already so energised. Wow, to be a child. “Slow down, kiddo. One at a time.”

Noah bounced on his toes. “So… do fish sleep?”

I sighed. “Yes, but not like us. They just kind of float around. And no, you cannot poke one to check.”

Declan called my phone just then, and Noah went to the window to check. He let out a squeal so loud the neighbors probably woke up. “He’s here!”

I stood in the doorway, suddenly very aware of my heartbeat as I waited for him to come up the stairs to my flat. Declan walked up the path carrying a duffel bag, his shirt rolled at the sleeves, hair mussed like he hadn’t spent too much time trying. He looked infuriatingly good for eight in the morning.

“Morning,” he said, voice warm, eyes landing on me before flicking down to Noah who was already wrapping himself around Declan’s waist.

“You ready for an adventure, bud?”

“Yes! I brought my soccer ball and my dinosaur book and Mommy said fish sleep but I don’t believe her, do you?”

Declan crouched down, meeting Noah’s eyes with exaggerated seriousness. “She’s right. Fish do sleep. They just don’t close their eyes.”

Noah’s jaw dropped. “That’s creepy.”

Declan laughed, and the sound of it twisted in my chest, familiar and warm.

Packing the car took longer than expected because Noah kept trying to climb into the trunk to ‘help.’ Declan pretended not to notice when my overstuffed bag nearly toppled him.

“Planning to stay for a month?” he teased, hefting it into the trunk.

“Some of us need options,” I said primly, folding my arms.

“Options? Or an entire alternate wardrobe?”

I glared, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me. He grinned like he’d scored a point. The last time we had gone to the lake house, we had had a similar conversation about my overpacking. The memory made me smile.

Noah clambered into the backseat with his soccer ball, his dinosaur book, and three different snacks he refused to choose between. “Shotgun!” he shouted.

“You can’t call shotgun if you’re not allowed in the front,” I said.

“Then… backseat shotgun!”

Declan chuckled as he slid behind the wheel. “Backseat shotgun it is.”

I settled into the passenger seat, suddenly hyperaware of the space between us. His cologne lingered faintly in the air, and when his hand brushed mine as he shifted gears, my heart jumped in my chest.

We hadn’t even reached the highway before Noah started with the questions again.

“Declan, do you know how to swim? Do you know how to build a raft? Could we live on the lake if we had to? Like, if zombies came?”

Declan shot me a look in the rearview mirror, equal parts amusement and a cry for help.

“Noah,” I said, trying not to laugh, “please don’t think we will be getting sucked into an apocalypse before we even leave the city.”

“But what if…”

Declan cut him off gently. “I do know how to swim, I can build a raft if I have enough wood, and yes, we could survive the zombie apocalypse. But only if you eat your breakfast bar.”

Noah blinked, then began to stuff small, determined bites of the granola bar into his mouth like it was a mission.

I smirked. “Well played.”

Declan glanced at me, his eyes crinkling. “Years of practice. My little nephew asks me questions like that all the time. The trick is to answer like it’s life or death.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too widely. He didn’t know it, but moments like this, so effortless, instinctive, were what undid me most.

By the time we stopped at a rest stop two hours later, Noah had sung three different songs, asked about twelve more fish-related questions, and fallen asleep against the window only to wake up insisting he was ‘not tired.;

Declan insisted on buying some drinks while Noah and I used the restroom. When we came back, he was leaning against the car, two cans l in his hand.

“Red Bull for you, Diet Coke for me,” he said casually, holding one out.

I blinked, startled. “You remembered?”

“Of course I remembered.”

I took the can, my fingers brushing his. Something caught in my throat, sharp and tender all at once.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“Anytime,” he said, voice low.

Noah popped his head between us like a jack-in-the-box. “Did you get me something?”

Declan crouched and pulled a packet of cookies from his pocket with a flourish. “For my co-pilot.”

Noah whooped, clutching them, already tearing into the packet.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “You’re spoiling him.”

Declan straightened, his eyes finding mine. “That’s because I want to.”

I looked away, pretending to sip my Red Bull. The fizz sent a jolt to me. Or maybe it was Declan.

Back on the road, the air was getting warmer, and the road, greener. Noah hummed to himself in the back, crumbs from the cookies dusting his shirt.

Declan reached forward to adjust the radio, and a familiar song crackled through the speakers, one we used to sing together years ago, windows down, the world wide open before us.

Without meaning to, I smiled. “I can’t believe you still have this on your playlist.”

He glanced at me, lips curving. “It always reminds me of you..”

I turned toward the window, hiding the flush in my cheeks. But the memory swelled anyway: the two of us, singing off-key, stealing kisses at stoplights. The memory of it nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

I risked a glance at him. He was tapping the wheel, his face dark against the light, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Then Noah’s voice piped up. “Mommy, Declan sings worse than you.”

Declan barked a laugh, and I choked on mine. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said, glancing back. “Next time I’ll let you sing solo.”

“I already do!” Noah announced proudly.

The rest of the drive was filled with silly debates about whether dinosaurs could swim (Noah insisted they could), and Declan threatening to turn the car around every time Noah said “are we there yet?”.

By the time the lake came into view, glimmering under the afternoon sun, Noah was bouncing so hard in his seat I thought he might launch through the roof.

“Look! Look! It’s the lake! We’re here!”

Declan slowed the car, pulling into the familiar gravel driveway. My breath caught as the house came into view. The same sloping roof, the same porch steps, the same air that smelled of pine and water. Memories rushed in, warm and stinging all at once.

I glanced at Declan. His eyes were on me, soft, almost cautious.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, though my chest felt like it might split in two. “Yeah. Just… remembering.”

He reached across the console, his fingers brushing mine for just a heartbeat before he pulled back. “Me too.”

And then Noah flung the car door open, yelling, “Race you to the porch!” and the spell broke.

Declan laughed, already jogging after him, and I followed, my heart heavy and light all at once.