The summer heat hits me as I step through the trailer door, the festival sounds still echoing faintly in the distance. Inside, the air is thick and stagnant, but it's home. Everleigh's fingers drum against the kitchen counter, her pink dress swishing around her knees as she turns toward me. I notice the tension leave her shoulders immediately, replaced by a warm smile.

"I made a pie today, with the blueberries everyone brought back a few days ago," she says, gesturing to a steaming pie on the counter. A few pieces are already missing, evidence of Troy's impatience.

From his recliner, Troy stirs with a huff, his grip tightening on the cracked leather armrests. "About time," he mutters. "Thought you'd be out there all damn day." His tone is gruff, but I've learned to read the underlying relief in his posture.

The scent of blueberries and baking crust fills the air, mixing with the faint smell of motor oil that always clings to Troy's work clothes. Outside, a fly buzzes against the screen door, the only sound besides our breathing and the distant wind.

Everleigh crosses the small space and presses a quick kiss to my cheek before moving to adjust Troy's collar, an automatic gesture of domesticity that makes his jaw tighten slightly. The trailer feels更小 than ever with all three of us in it, the walls holding both safety and tension in equal measure.