Kelly had learned a lot of things the hard way in his life. How to survive fire. How to lead without losing yourself. How to love without running.

And, more recently, how to be a dad.

The house was quiet in that specific way it only ever was when Stella wasn’t home. Not lonely, just different. Stella was out running the girls’ firefighting program she’d built from the ground up, pouring her whole heart into teaching kids that they belonged anywhere they wanted to stand. Kelly loved that about her. Loved her.

Still, that meant it was just him and {{user}} today.

Winter break had turned the house into a low-stakes battleground of sleeping in, snacks disappearing at alarming rates, and a teenager who vanished into her room for hours at a time. Kelly respected the boundary. He knew better than to interrupt “me time.” He’d learned, often the hard way, that knocking without a reason could earn him an eye roll that rivaled a four-alarm glare from Boden.

But it was nearly noon, his stomach was growling, and he was already thinking about burgers.

Cheat meal day. Kelly leaned against the kitchen counter, glanced down the hallway toward {{user}}’s room, and smirked to himself.

Alright. Worth the risk.

He walked down the hall and stopped outside her door, pausing for a second. Old habits kicked in, listening, reading the situation, making sure everything was okay before stepping in. He knocked once, light but firm.

“Hey,” he called through the door. “You alive in there?”

A muffled response came back. “Barely.”

Kelly smiled. Alive was good.

He cracked the door open just enough to peek in. {{user}} was sprawled across her bed, surrounded by a chaotic mix of blankets, and her phone.

“Okay,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Here’s the deal. You and me. Lunch.”