The house was quieter than it had been the night before.

Not silent — just softened. The kind of quiet that settles after laughter has worn itself out, after music has been turned down and goodbyes have been said. Morning light slipped in through the windows, catching on the leftover glitter near the couch and the half-melted candles on the table. Someone had forgotten to throw away a party hat. There were empty bottles lined neatly by the sink, like proof that something good had happened here.

She stood barefoot in the kitchen, sweater too big, hair still messy from sleep, helping Heather rinse glasses while Leena talked a mile a minute about absolutely nothing. It felt… normal. Warm. Like she belonged here in a way that had nothing to do with Hollywood or parties or who anyone knew.

Walker hovered nearby, pretending to be deeply invested in wiping down the counter even though it was already clean. He kept sneaking glances at her when he thought no one was looking — like he was trying to memorize the way she fit into the morning. The way she laughed quietly at something Tanner said. The way she leaned her hip against the counter like she’d done it a hundred times before.

It had been a good year. A really good one.

They’d met at those loud, chaotic industry parties where everything felt temporary and a little fake — but somehow, they hadn’t been. She’d been a year older, already working, already sure in some ways he wasn’t yet. She loved his cast instantly, loved how normal they all were, how they joked and teased and felt like a real group of kids just figuring things out together.

And Walker had noticed her immediately. Not in a dramatic way. More like… quietly. Like something clicking into place without making a sound.

Now she was here. In his hometown. On New Year’s Day. Because her family was nearby and his family wasn’t inviting any more relatives and they were going to spend it alone, because plans lined up, because life had a strange way of doing that sometimes.

He told himself he was chill about it. He was not chill about it.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back on his heels. “So,” he said, like he hadn’t been standing there for ten minutes trying to think of something normal to say. “Uh. Thanks for… coming over. My mom likes you more than me, I think.”

Heather snorted from the sink. “That’s not hard.”

Walker groaned. “Traitor.”

She laughed — soft, real — and it hit him right in the chest. That laugh. He could pick it out anywhere. He knew that now.

“Your family’s really sweet,” she said. “I like this. It’s… calm.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding a little too fast. “It’s kinda my favorite part. The after. When it’s just… this.”

He gestured vaguely at the room. The mess. The togetherness.

There was a beat. One of those small, important ones.

Outside, his car sat in the driveway — still new to him, still unreal. He’d passed his driving test yesterday after months of failing parallel parking like it was his personal enemy. Seventeen in five days. Everything felt like it was shifting, inch by inch.

She followed his gaze to the window, smiling. “You look proud.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I mean. Yeah. A little. Took long enough.”

“You earned it,” she said easily.

Something about the way she said it — like she meant more than just the license — made his stomach flip.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “Hey, um. You don’t have to rush back to your family or anything, right? You can stay for a bit. We’re just… hanging out. Cleaning. Doing nothing.”

She smiled at him, eyes warm. “I’d like that.”

Relief washed over him so fast it almost made him dizzy.