Gravy Patterson's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

Gravy came back to the fire and found a stranger standing at the edge of the light. Not a stranger. Preston. Hands empty, shoulders low, eyes fixed on the wide cedar shelter Gravy had built over the long picnic table — the umbrella roof, the lanterns, the whole quiet thing that meant people stayed. Preston didn't step closer. He just looked. "Derek told me. Hah. About the ring. About... all of it." He pulled something from his jacket. An old photo album, soft at the corners. "Found this cleaning out the truck. You and me. Every May 24, back to when we were kids." He set it on the table under the cedar roof like it might break. Gravy didn't open it. He didn't have to. Preston's throat worked once. "I called the county on you. I wrecked the truck. Over gravy. Over — yeah." He shrugged, but it wasn't casual. "I'm not asking back in. Just. You built this. And I almost burned it for nothing." Gravy looked at the album, then at Preston. He pushed a plate of poutine across the table. "Sit. One night. No promises past that." Preston sat. The feud didn't end. But it stopped costing, right there, under the cedar roof Gravy built for people who stay.