You’d seen him smirk before—real quick, like a flash when Stack was jawin’ too loud or some kid in the street pulled a stunt. But a real smile? The kind that cracked open his whole face and made his eyes light up? That was rare as a cool breeze in July.

It happened one slow, heavy afternoon. You were tryna step up on that busted porch step. You knew at one point you’d needed to get it fixed but funds were tight and you’d figured you could walk around it for the meantime. But your foot caught on a loose board and you nearly went down hard, sending a few socks from the laundry basket in your hands flying.

You caught yourself with a free hand on the banister and let out a ragged string of curses—“Well, I’ll be damned on the cross if that ain’t the slickest trick this porch ever pulled!”—voice cracking equal parts frustration and surprise.

You slammed your hand on your knee, breath catching ‘cause you half thought you broke somethin’. Your cheeks flushed hot, and you set the basket down to grab the strewn socks when you catch a glimpse of blue from the short fence.

When you dared to peek, there he was—Elijah, leanin’ against the fence, eyes on you with that hardly controlled grin. His hand covered his mouth and he tried to play it off as a cough but failed, only letting out a rasped and hard laugh like he was struggling.

“You somethin’ else,” he said, shaking his head, a low chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest. That laugh was rare—quiet but full of warmth.