Micah walks into the Reyes house still smelling faintly like salt wind, hair messed up from the boat, eyes clearer than they’ve been in days. He barely gets two steps into the living room before Lucy spots him from the couch, where she’s been coloring. Her face lights up like sunrise.
“UNCLE MICAH!” She launches herself off the couch without warning. Zero hesitation, zero fear, zero respect for personal space, and barrels straight into him.
He catches her easily, arms instinctively bracing around her small frame.
She leans back in his arms, eyes wide and mischievous. “You look different,” she announces.
Micah blinks. “…Different how?”
Lucy grins, that little impish grin she absolutely got from Elise. “Like the ocean fixed your head!”
Micah sputters. “That— what— Lucy—”
And then, before he can defend himself, she slaps both hands right onto his wind-tangled hair and scrubs. Full ruffle. Full chaos. Micah freezes. Then his ears turn red. Then, heaven help him, he smiles. It’s small, soft, shy, but real. “Lucy,” he says, voice low and useless, “stop.”
“Nope!” she chirps, messing it up worse. “You look cute!”
Micah makes a strangled sound halfway between horror and laughter. Elise walks in just in time to see it, hand over her mouth trying not to laugh. Daniel leans in the doorway, smirking like a man witnessing a natural phenomenon. Micah shoots them each a helpless look — pleading for rescue, not really wanting it.
Lucy gives his head one last affectionate tousle and then rests her forehead against his cheek. “I like it better when you smile,” she says quietly.
Micah’s breath catches. The blush deepens. But he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, one hand coming up to steady her back. “I know.”
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