Since Forever

The Dinner Table Deal

Later that afternoon, the two families were still outside, the sun starting to dip behind the houses. Boxes sat piled on the Hayes’ porch, half-unpacked, and Claire Hayes wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“You all must be exhausted,” Mrs. Carter said, leaning on the fence with that warm smile she used when she’d already made up her mind. “How about you come over tonight? I’ll put a roast in the oven. Nothing fancy, just neighborly.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to impose,” Claire started, but Mr. Hayes was already nodding. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“Impose?” Mr. Carter laughed. “Please, my wife loves an excuse to cook for more mouths.”

Jacob pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Dinner! Ethan, you’re coming, right? You have to.”

Ethan, who had been fiddling with a baseball glove, smirked. “Depends. Do I get dessert?”

“Of course there’s dessert,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes like it was the dumbest question in the world. “My mom always makes dessert.”

“Then I’m in.” Ethan slapped the glove against his palm.

Jacob practically bounced on his toes, grabbing his new friend’s arm. “Okay, you’re sitting next to me.”

Millie, standing off to the side, groaned under her breath. Great. Just what she needed—more Ethan.

Mrs. Carter glanced at her. “Millie, sweetheart, isn’t this nice? We’ll all eat together.”

Millie forced a thin smile. “Yeah. Nice.”

Ethan caught her tone and raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Don’t worry, Carter,” he said, using her last name like it was a nickname. “I’ll try not to bother you too much.”

“You already do,” she muttered, but he only grinned wider, like her annoyance was fuel.

The grown-ups laughed, the dinener invitation sealed, and Jacob pulled Ethan toward the backyard again, already plotting their “best-friends-forever” agenda.

Millie trailed after her mom, dragging her sandals in the dirt, wishing the fence between their houses had been higher.

The Carters’ dining room smelled like roasted garlic and potatoes by the time the Hayes came over. Mrs. Carter had pulled out her nicer tablecloth, the one with little embroidered flowers, even though she pretended it was “just a casual meal.”

Claire Hayes walked in carrying a basket of rolls, apologizing. “I had these half-baked in the oven before the move. Figured I’d bring them.”

Mrs. Carter beamed. “Perfect! You read my mind.”

Mr. Hayes and Mr. Carter were already deep in some conversation about local traffic and how ridiculous parking rules were on Main Street. It was like they’d been friends for years.

Jacob and Ethan stormed in behind them, arguing about baseball players, neither pausing for breath. Jacob plopped down in his usual seat and practically dragged Ethan into the chair beside him.

“Here. Right here. We’ll share the mashed potatoes.”

Ethan grinned. “As long as you don’t hog them all.”

Millie had been hovering near the doorway, stalling. Mrs. Carter gave her the look—sit down, don’t be rude—so she shuffled over and slid into her spot on the other side of Ethan.

Great. Perfect. Trapped between her mom and the enemy.

Ethan glanced at her, then nudged her chair with his elbow just slightly. “Don’t worry, Carter. I don’t bite.”

Millie shot him a glare. “Wish you did. Then you’d get in trouble.”

He chuckled under his breath and leaned back, already turning his attention to Jacob.

Lucy Hayes, Ethan’s little sister, sat across from Millie, swinging her legs under the table. “Mom, can I have extra gravy? Ethan never lets me have more at home.”

Ethan groaned. “That’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Lucy said with a grin. “You said gravy makes me weird.”

The whole table burst out laughing, including Millie, who almost spit her water when Ethan turned beet red.

“Thanks, Lucy,” Ethan muttered, shooting her a death glare while everyone else chuckled.

Millie hid her grin behind her cup. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be completely awful after all.

The roast was carved, plates filled, the whole table buzzing with chatter. Mr. Carter told a story about how Jacob once got his head stuck in the banister, and everyone laughed until Jacob turned red.

“Hey, it wasn’t funny when it happened,” Jacob said through a mouthful of potato. “I thought I was gonna be stuck forever.”

“You almost were,” Mrs. Carter teased.

Ethan leaned close to Jacob, smirking. “Bet you can’t fit your head through this chair either.”

Jacob shoved him, and the two dissolved into giggles, banging their elbows against the table.

Millie stabbed her carrots with more force than necessary. The boys were being loud, and she was tired of being squished in between them like she didn’t exist.

Ethan must’ve noticed her silence, because he turned suddenly, eyes twinkling. “Hey, Carter. You gonna eat that, or just glare at it until it disappears?”

Millie’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been staring at those carrots for like ten minutes,” Ethan said. “What, do you hate vegetables? Or just… can’t decide how to chew?”

Jacob cracked up so hard he nearly spilled his milk. “She does that all the time! Millie’s the slowest eater on the planet.”

Heat rushed up Millie’s neck. Everyone at the table was looking now—smiling, chuckling, thinking it was harmless teasing. To her, it felt like all eyes burning holes.

“I eat just fine,” she said tightly.

Ethan tilted his head, pretending to study her. “Sure. If ‘fine’ means one carrot an hour.”

Jacob laughed even harder, banging his hand on the table. “Oh man, he’s right!”

“Jacob,” Mrs. Carter warned, though she was still smiling herself.

Millie’s throat tightened. She wanted to sink under the table. She wanted to scream at Ethan for putting her in the spotlight. Instead, she muttered, “At least I don’t shove food in my face like a pig.”

The whole table went “ooooh,” parents included, half amused at the sibling-style jab.

Jacob gasped like he’d been mortally wounded. “Millie!”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, smirk curving slow. “Guess she bites after all.”

Millie gripped her fork until her knuckles ached, wishing the floor would just open up.

The laughter was still simmering when Mrs. Carter stood to fetch dessert. Plates clinked, glasses refilled, the table alive with small chatter.

Millie kept her eyes locked on her plate, trying to will herself invisible. Her cheeks still burned from everyone’s teasing. She didn’t want to look at Ethan. She didn’t want to look at anyone.

Then—crash.

A glass slipped from Lucy’s little hands and shattered against the hardwood. The sound exploded sharp and sudden, too much like—

Millie’s breath hitched. Her fork clattered to the plate. She squeezed her eyes shut, heart slamming against her ribs, the noise pulling her backward into a place she hated. Tires screeching. The metallic crunch. Her dad’s hand jerking on the wheel—

“Millie?” Jacob’s voice cut through, confused. “Why are you always so jumpy?”

Heads turned toward her. Mr. Hayes leaned down to check Lucy’s mess, but everyone else was staring at her.

Millie’s throat closed. The air felt too thin.

And then Ethan’s voice broke in, loud and easy. “Because she’s got supersonic hearing.”

Everyone blinked at him.

“What?” Mr. Carter chuckled.

Ethan shrugged, flashing a grin like it was obvious. “She hears everything. You didn’t know? Earlier, she heard a squirrel sneeze in the backyard. Total freak power.”

Jacob laughed immediately, turning the attention off Millie. “What? No way. That’s not even real.”

“It is,” Ethan insisted, smirking. “Millie, tell them about the squirrel.”

Millie blinked at him, her chest still tight, but—everyone’s eyes had softened, the tension shifted. They weren’t looking at her like she was broken. They were laughing again.

She swallowed, her voice small. “…Yeah. Loudest squirrel ever.”

The table cracked up, Lucy squealing with delight. “I want squirrel ears too!”

Mrs. Carter reappeared with pie, shaking her head at the chaos. “What on earth are you all going on about?”

“Millie’s a superhero,” Ethan said smoothly, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just saved her. “Didn’t you know?”

Millie stared at him, stunned. For a second, the smirk was gone—his eyes steady, serious, like he was checking if she was okay. Then it vanished, replaced with that same crooked grin.

The night wound down with pie crumbs scattered across plates and the adults lingering in the living room, coffee cups in hand. Jacob and Ethan sprawled on the rug, half-asleep from too much food, while Lucy played with Millie’s old dolls like they were hers now.

Eventually, the Hayes family gathered their things, Claire tugging Lucy’s jacket on, Mr. Hayes thanking the Carters at least five times for dinner.

Millie lingered by the hallway, pretending to straighten a shoe rack while everyone shuffled toward the door. Her stomach still buzzed from the crash earlier, from Ethan’s quick cover. She hated him. Except she didn’t. Except she still did.

As he passed by, slipping on his sneakers, Ethan slowed. He bent just enough so only she could hear.

“Don’t worry, Carter,” he murmured, voice low, casual. “Your secret’s safe.”

Millie froze.

Ethan smirked, sticking out his pinky like it was some kind of weapon. “Pinky promises don’t break, remember?”

Her eyes narrowed, though her hand twitched at the memory. She didn’t take his pinky. She didn’t say thank you. She just glared, cheeks hot.

“Goodnight, Millie,” Mrs. Hayes called cheerfully.

“Goodnight,” Millie mumbled, still locked in that stare.

Ethan straightened, tugged his jacket on, and shot her one last grin before disappearing out the door with Jacob trailing behind.

The house grew quiet again. Millie leaned against the wall, arms folded tight, wondering how someone could be the most annoying boy alive and yet… the only one who seemed to actually see her.