Page 21 of Canned & Coated

Tanner laughs, open and easy, almost as if nothing about this moment is loaded. “Thanks. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

The bench wobbles as Milo shifts closer, his knee warm against mine, and suddenly I’m boxed in by two versions of the same message: stay, stay, stay.

It’s what I used to want. I spent years bracing for Tanner to disappear again, so the idea of him sticking around hits harder than it should.

Tanner sighs. “Haven’t slept in a real bed in years. My own room. With, like, walls.”

“Yeah. Modern living. Wild concept,” I say, but it comes out tight. My knife starts moving again, dicing potatoes I don’t remember grabbing.

This should be good news. It is what I wanted. Five minutes ago, the idea of the three of us tangled up in something had my pulse racing. Now my stomach feels like concrete.

Guest. That’s the word that sticks.

That’s what Tanner has always been. Someone who shows up like weather and leaves just as fast. Wanting him was easier when there was an expiration date.

But now? He’s staying. Across town, and with that there’s no countdown or exit or safety net.

I sneak a glance at him through my lashes. His knee’s still pressed to mine under the table, and I swear I can feel every point of contact like it’s amplified.

My knife stalls mid-chop. If he’s not leaving, then whatever Milo was hinting at isn’t some temporary fantasy. It’s real. It’s something that could actually happen. And anything real can fall apart as easily.

I just got him back. The idea of messing that up makes my chest ache, even if some reckless part of me still wants it.

“It’ll be nice to have you back,” Milo says, and that’s when I notice the quiet.

I stare down at the potatoes. “Should get this soup going.”

I stand too fast, nearly knocking over my water bottle, and busy myself at the camp stove.

Behind me, Milo and Tanner slip into one of those conversations that doesn’t need words. All glances and small shifts. I can feel it happening without turning around, like the air changing before a storm.

Tanner sighs and pushes to his feet. “I’m disgusting. Gonna hit the bathhouse while you do your chef thing.”

“Cool,” I say, pouring water from the plastic jug with far too much focus.

He ducks into the tent, comes back out with a bundle of clothes and a towel, then disappears down the trail. The second he’s gone, Milo’s at my side.

“You’re being weird.”

“Am not.”

“You’re being really, really weird, and it’s kind of adorable but mostly pathetic.” His tone’s off though. Less teasing. More… something else.

Milo leans a hip against the table, arms crossed. “Talk to me.”

I fit the lid onto the pot and keep my eyes on the steam. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He scoffs. “Let me try again. Talk to me, or I throw your favorite knife into the woods.”

I snort. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. You know I would.” He nudges my shoulder, hard enough to throw me off rhythm. “So what is it? Mad? Sad? Or aggressively you?”

I watch the carrots swirl in the boiling water. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“This shouldn’t be as weird as you’re making it.”

A laugh bursts out of me like a startled bird, surprising both of us. Milo’s eyebrows shoot up. I clap a hand over my mouth, heat rushing to my face. “Sorry. Tanner said literally the exact same thing to me. Word for word.”