Rekindled Flame

Meet and Greet Part 1

Michael POV:

The Next Morning:

I woke up to the persistent ringing of the house phone echoing throughout the empty spaces of the house, each ring a harsh reminder of the new reality I was living. My heart raced as I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Olie, who had finally passed out after a long night of tossing and turning, and the twins, who often kept the same hours as the night owls they claimed to be.

"Hello?" My voice came out raspy, thick with sleep.

"Hey Mike, it's Jeremy."

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Oh, hey."

"What time do you want us to come over today...?"

I hesitated, suddenly realizing the gravity of the moment. "Oh right, I forgot... um, maybe around—"

"—Maybe around three~!" Oliver's high-pitched voice sang out, breaking through the quiet of the house.

I pressed the speaker against my chest and yelled down the hallway, "OLIVER, GET OFF THE LINE!"

I heard laughter on the other end followed by the unmistakable click of the line disconnecting. This kid had always been the bane of my existence, but damn if I didn't love him for it.

"Just like you, Mike," Jeremy chuckled, his voice warm and familiar, cutting through my moment of frustration.

I smiled faintly. "Isn't every boy like his father?"

He fell silent for a moment. "Not you."

I cleared my throat again, desperate to change the subject. "Well, you three—"

"Four..."

"Right... you four can come by around one-ish. The kids and I should be awake and ready by then."

"Okay... thanks for letting us come by. I know this can't be easy."

I grinned, a hollow gesture that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Nothing has ever been easy for us."

"...See you later, Mike."

As the phone clicked, I slid down the wall behind me until I hit the floor, the coolness of the wood grounding me. Of course, Noah was coming with them. Why wouldn't he? I had done the same when his sister passed, driven by shared grief and a sense of responsibility that tethered us together even through the awkwardness of our past. We could put aside what happened between us for our own well-being, but that didn't mean every interaction wouldn't be a tightrope walk over old wounds.

I looked down the hall and saw Olie struggling to carry a sleepy Clare and Christi, both of them nearly twice his size, their limbs dangling like heavy branches.

I smiled softly. "You know they're way too old to be carried around like toddlers."

He ignored me, beaming with pride, and continued towards the kitchen, a young knight on a quest.

I got to my feet and began taking out enough eggs for the four of us. "They're coming over at one-ish."

Clare blinked a few times, her eyes heavy with sleep. "Who?"

"Some friends of mine and your mom's. You might've seen me talking to them yesterday if you weren't already asleep."

The twins exchanged a "Hmph" sound that reminded me so much of their mother. Whenever I did or said something she didn't want to hear, she would make that same sound deep in her throat.

"Dad, the eggs!"

Snapped back to reality, I quickly moved the eggs from the flame, the acrid smell of burnt edges a harsh reminder of my distracted mind. "Shit!"