I carried the plates into the kitchen with my chin up and my hands steady.
Callum's stare followed me the whole way, flat and cold, like he was adding up a bill.
Elaine: Put those down, Alina. You're a guest in this house.
Elaine: Sit. Eat something. You've been on your feet since you walked in.
Her hand landed on my shoulder, warm as a stove, and something in my chest let go.
I sat. My plate was already full, heaped before I could say a word.
Elaine: There. Now everyone's where they belong.
For one whole second, that felt true.
Gerald: This one's the reason the fuel pumps passed inspection, you know.
Gerald: Didn't even send me a bill for the parts.
I ducked my head and smiled into my water glass. Hope is a greedy, stupid thing.
I got up again to pass the bread around. My body did it before my brain could tell it to sit still.
Drew: That's my girl. Always helping.
His smile was proud, and it was aimed at the table, not at me.
Callum had not touched his food. His fork sat on the plate, and his gray eyes stayed on me.
Callum: Sit down.
His voice was quiet. It still cut through the room like a cold blade.
Callum: You don't have to earn a plate.
My hand stopped halfway to the bread basket.
Callum: Nobody at this table is paying you to serve them.
I sat. The chair scraped loud on the wood floor.
Callum: Eat. That's what the plate is for.
He said it like a verdict, and my face went hot.
Drew: Shit, Cal. Relax.
Drew: She's not used to people handing her things for free.
Drew laughed. Head back, hand flat on the table. The same laugh from the dock.
Drew: She's cheap labor and she eats like a bird. Best deal this family ever got.
Drew: Right, babe?
He squeezed my knee under the cloth. The squeeze went through me like a slap.
Gerald: You got a good one there, Drew. Doesn't ask for much.
Gerald said it kindly. It still landed on me like a price tag.
Elaine laughed her soft little laugh, and nobody looked at me.
I set my fork down beside my plate. Quiet. Careful.
My hands were steady. They were always steady.
I did not pick it up again. The food went cold in front of me while the talk moved on over my head.
Gerald: Drew, what's the story on the four o'clock tomorrow?
Drew: Handled. I got it sorted before we left.
Drew's hand slid off my knee, and he turned to his father, easy as a door closing.
Callum watched me push my plate an inch away. His jaw moved once, and he said nothing.
The bracelet was cold on my wrist. I had wanted this table to be mine.
So why did the man who thought I was begging for a seat keep watching me?