Rea woke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes?
For a second, she thought she was dreaming.
Then she heard voices downstairs.
One of them was her mom's.
The other—
Her breath caught.
No way.
She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool against her bare feet as she padded toward the door, pushing it open just enough to hear better.
Laughter.
Her mom's warm chuckle.
And then—
Aster.
Laughing.
Rea blinked, startled by how normal it sounded.
Curiosity outweighed her sleepiness as she crept downstairs.
She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and froze.
Aster was standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with the kind of casual ease that suggested he'd done this a hundred times before.
Her mom was beside him, handing him a plate.
"You're surprisingly good at this," she said, raising an eyebrow.
Aster smirked. "What, did you think I survived this long on gas station snacks?"
Her mom laughed. "Honestly? A little."
Aster let out a soft chuckle, stacking the pancakes onto a plate. "Joke's on you. I make a mean breakfast."
Rea's mom shook her head, amused. "Well, if this whole 'bad boy' thing doesn't work out, you've got a solid backup plan as a diner cook."
Rea's lips twitched.
Aster snorted. "I'll keep that in mind."
He turned slightly—then froze when he saw Rea standing there.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at Aster's lips. "Morning, sleeping beauty."
Rea rolled her eyes. "You cook?"
Aster shrugged, turning back to the stove. "Gotta have some redeeming qualities."
Rea's mom nudged him playfully. "He offered to help."
Rea arched an eyebrow. "Aster Westwood voluntarily waking up early to cook? Are we in an alternate reality?"
Aster smirked. "Maybe you just don't know everything about me, Jones."
Rea's stomach flipped.
Her mom clapped her hands together. "Well, since Aster went through all the trouble, you should set the table, Rea."
Rea sighed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Fine."
As she grabbed plates from the cabinet, she glanced back at Aster.
He looked… different.
Lighter.
For the first time since she'd met him, he didn't seem like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And for some reason, that made her chest ache.
—
Breakfast was surprisingly normal.
Aster ate like he hadn't had a real meal in days (which, knowing him, was probably true).
Her parents asked him questions—nothing too invasive, just small things. Favorite food. Hobbies. Music taste.
He answered most of them with his usual dry humor, but Rea noticed the way he hesitated every time the conversation drifted too close to his home life.
Her parents noticed too.
And, thankfully, they didn't push.
When they finished eating, her dad cleared his throat. "Aster."
Aster looked up.
Rea's dad studied him for a long moment, then said, "You can stay here. If you need to."
Rea's breath caught.
Aster blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Her dad set down his coffee mug. "I don't know what's going on with you and your brother. But I know a kid who needs a place to stay when I see one."
Aster's jaw tightened.
He looked down at his plate, fingers tapping against the table.
For a second, Rea thought he was going to say no.
Then, softly—
"Okay."
Rea's heart soared.
Her dad nodded. "Alright, then."
And just like that, Aster Westwood had a home.