Keira
Diane's house was smaller than I expected, a modest ranch on a quiet street lined with mature oak trees, the kind of home that clearly held decades of memories in every corner. Jaxon led us up the front walk with visible nerves, a marked contrast to his usual easy confidence, fidgeting with the strap of the gift bag Asher had insisted we bring.
"She's going to love all of you," he said, mostly to reassure himself. "Just, fair warning, she has zero filter. She will ask deeply personal questions within the first ten minutes."
"We've survived worse," Mason said dryly, and the rest of us laughed, some of the tension easing as Jaxon knocked on the door.
Diane answered herself, moving a little slower than I imagined she once had, but her smile was warm and immediate, exactly the kind o
