(Rebecca's POV)
I look past him to Eric, who's standing in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching this whole scene unfold with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Not composed. Not careful. Just open, unguarded, something bright and unpracticed sitting right on the surface where anyone could see it.
"Come here," his mother says, and pulls him into the circle too, one arm still around me, the other reaching for her son.
Something braced tight since I was eighteen years old finally starts to let go.
Eric's arm comes around my waist. His mother's hand finds my hair again, comforting.
"Okay," his father says, clearing his throat, stepping back, swiping quickly at his own eyes like he thinks nobody noticed. "Enough of that. Who wants pie? I made pie. Nobod
