Sitting on the patio of Joanne's house, Jeffrey sipped the whiskey she had poured for him. He'd tried to be mindful of her and tried not to drink too much or impose, but she was lost in her own world with Fiona and Mary. Their hushed laughter drifted through the open window, soft and rhythmic, like a lullaby only friendship could create.
Inside, Mary brought out plates from the kitchen while Joanne floated between rooms, chatting, checking on the food. Liam and Fiona had come over for dinner, and the house was full in the most comforting sense—full of voices, footsteps, warmth.
Jeffrey leaned back in his chair and looked around. Patrick and Liam sat nearby, deep in conversation, laughing and tossing stories back and forth. Some of it he only half understood; references and idioms that felt native to this soil, but that didn't matter.
His heart was full. This was home. At last, he was home.
