Chapter 123: Vague Answers

Chapter 123: Chapter 123: Vague Answers

Dinner arrived the way it always did now — quietly, efficiently, Aunt Mary moving through the kitchen with Aurora balanced on one hip while she stirred something with the other hand, refusing every offer of help until the food was actually on the table.

Penelope sat where she always sat, across from Kai, beside the empty chair that usually belonged to Ben when he and Aunt Lucy joined them. Tonight it stayed empty. Ben’s voice had drifted through earlier, muffled from down the hall — something about Aunt Lucy wanting to try a new recipe in their own kitchen, something about giving everyone a night to just breathe. Nobody had argued with that logic.

Killian sat where he’d started sitting without anyone officially deciding it — beside Penelope, across from Erik, close enough to the door that old habits apparently never fully switched off.

"So," Kai said, spearing a piece of chicken with more enthusiasm than the statement required, "who wants to hear my theory on why the elevator still smells like burnt rubber even though nobody’s used it in two days?"

"No," Erik said flatly.

"Great, glad we’re all on the same page." Kai pointed the fork at Penelope instead. "Penny. Back me up. Burnt rubber smell. Mysterious. Concerning."

"Mm," Penelope said, and took a bite of rice.

Kai’s grin faltered, just slightly, the pause stretching a beat longer than a normal non-answer should have. He recovered fast enough that most people probably wouldn’t have caught it, but Killian, watching from the side, did.

"Wow," Kai said, lighter than he probably felt. "Tough crowd tonight."

"Sorry." Penelope offered something that was meant to pass as a smile. "Not really in a talking mood."

Kai let it go, though his eyes lingered on her for another second before he turned back to his plate, some of the usual brightness dimmed at the edges.

Aunt Mary set the last dish down and finally sat, shifting Aurora into the crook of one arm so she could eat one-handed, a skill she’d apparently mastered within forty-eight hours of the baby’s arrival. Her gaze moved around the table, landing on Penelope with quiet, unhurried attention.

"You’ve barely touched your food, dear."

"I’m not very hungry tonight."

Aunt Mary studied her a moment longer, then simply nodded, letting the observation sit rather than pushing it further — the particular restraint of someone who’d raised enough children to know when pressing made things worse rather than better.

Erik had been quiet through most of it, watching with the kind of attention that rarely announced itself until it decided to. He set his fork down.

"Penny."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

The question was direct, plainly asked, no accusation in it. Still, something flickered across Penelope’s face for half a second — not quite panic, but close enough to it that Killian’s attention sharpened without meaning to.

"I’m fine," Penelope said. "Just tired."

Erik held her gaze a moment, the same patient weight he usually carried into difficult conversations, the kind that tended to wear down other people’s evasions without him having to raise his voice. It didn’t get anything further out of her tonight.

"Okay," he said finally, and let it go — not because he believed her completely, Killian suspected, but because pushing at a dinner table in front of everyone clearly wasn’t going to be the way through.

The conversation limped back into something resembling normal — Kai attempting another joke about the building’s water pressure, Aunt Mary asking Killian a question about tomorrow’s supply plans that he answered with more detail than strictly necessary just to keep the air moving.

Erik didn’t ask again. But Killian noticed he didn’t fully look away from Penelope for the rest of the meal, something working behind his expression that he wasn’t sharing with the table.

By the time the dishes were cleared, the sky beyond the blackout curtains had finally gone properly dark — the crimson wash of daylight fully surrendered to something closer to ordinary night, the only window of hours where stepping outside didn’t mean exposing themselves to whatever the red sun was still doing to anyone caught beneath it.

"Supply run," Erik said, checking his watch. "We’ve got until sunrise before we lose the window."

Kai was already reaching for his axe, propped by the door where it lived now, permanent as any piece of furniture. "Please tell me we’re hitting the pharmacy two blocks over. I saw a display case of protein bars through the window on the drive back that has been haunting my dreams."

"We’re hitting whatever’s closest and useful," Erik said. "Pharmacy’s on the list."

Killian stood, checking the knife at his belt out of habit more than necessity. "Mrs. Ryker, thank you for dinner." Killian said to Aunt Mary.

"Anytime dear, you are always welcome to join us for a meal." Aunt Mary responded with a smile on her face.

"So, whose car are we taking tonight?" Kai asked.

"I’ll drive." Killian said.

"Thank you for being our designated driver." Kai chimed in.

"Someone has to." Erik replied, trying to get a reaction out of Penelope.

Penelope had simply risen from the table quietly, already reaching for the katana resting against the wall near her chair.

Erik glanced at her. "You don’t have to come tonight."

"I want to."

"You said you were tired." Erik stated.

"I am. Doesn’t mean I want to sit here." Penelope replied.

Something passed between them — not an argument, not quite, but the kind of silent negotiation siblings had perfected over two decades of living in the same house, reading each other’s stubbornness without needing the words out loud. Erik held her gaze a moment longer, clearly deciding whether pushing was worth what it would cost him, and then, apparently, deciding it wasn’t.

"Alright," he said. "Stay close tonight."

"I’m always close."

Kai, watching the exchange with more attention than his usual chaos suggested, opened his mouth like he might say something — a joke, or maybe not a joke, harder to tell with him lately — and then closed it again, apparently deciding the moment wasn’t his to fill.

Killian said nothing at all, just held the door as the group filed out into the dark hallway, and let his gaze rest on Penelope for one extra second longer than strictly necessary as she passed him — not suspicion, not quite concern either. Just noticing. The same thing he’d been doing all evening, quietly, without anyone asking him to.

She didn’t look back at him. But she didn’t shy away from the door he was holding open for her either, and for now, that was answer enough.