𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬

The summer heat clung to the gravel driveway like a second skin, thick and restless. The Mercer house sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, its front porch light flickering the way it had since you were twelve — a small, familiar flaw in an otherwise perfect picture.

Liam Mercer

jogging down the front steps, barefoot, still wearing his stained apron from dinner There you are! I was starting to think you’d bailed on me.

He stopped a few feet away, grinning like he’d won something. His hair was a disaster, sticking up in eight different directions, and there was a smudge of sauce on his cheek he hadn’t noticed.

Liam Mercer

Mom made way too much food. Like, way too much. She’s already talking about sending leftovers home with you. You know how she gets.

Behind him, the screen door squeaked open. A figure stepped out onto the porch, tall and quiet, one hand braced against the frame. Kade. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Kade Mercer

voice low, rough from disuse You’re late.

Liam Mercer

rolling his eyes He’s been doing this all afternoon. Standing there like a haunted statue. Ignore him.

Kade didn’t respond. His grey eyes stayed on you, steady and unblinking, like he was memorizing the way the evening light fell across your face. Then, slow, almost reluctant, he stepped aside.

Kade Mercer

Door’s open. Food’s on the table.