Chapter Text
The revolving doors caught the morning light, and for a second, Mike almost turned around before stepping through.
The panic sat right in his chest. It had been there since Harvey agreed to let him come back, a constant pressure that hadn’t eased even once leading up to this moment. The closer he’d gotten to the building, the heavier it felt, until it settled somewhere between his ribs like something living there.
There were fleeting moments where he thought it might feel like coming home. But the truth was, he probably wouldn’t know that feeling anyway. Home had always been a foreign concept to him.
As he made his way through the building he could feel the stares -- imagined, maybe, but that didn’t make them any easier. Every laugh sounded like it could’ve been about him. Every half-second pause in conversation felt like a spotlight. It reminded him too much of walking through the prison yard, that same skin-crawling awareness that eyes were on him even when they weren’t.
He kept moving anyway.
The elevator doors slid shut, and he caught his reflection in the brushed steel. Suit, decent tie (that Harvey would still probably hate), and hair still slightly damp from the shower he’d been too nervous to enjoy. For a moment he almost believed he looked the part again. Almost.
He arrived on his floor, stepped out and started down the hall. The floors gleamed the same way they always had, the air still carrying that faint mix of coffee and cologne. Every door he passed felt like a ghost of something; cases, memories, people who used to fill them.
When he reached Rachel’s old office, he slowed. The lights were off. The desk was bare except for a single stack of files someone had left behind. She’d left the firm months ago to work for her father, and somehow, the space looked cleaner now. Easier to look at.
He was grateful for that.
He hadn’t heard from her since that phone call--the one that ended things without either of them really saying goodbye. Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if they’d gone through with it, the wedding, the promises, the whole idea of forever. He pictured a marriage stitched together with guilt and obligation, both of them pretending it was still worth saving. It would’ve died slow, he was sure of it.
At least this way, they’d both gotten out.
He paused outside Harvey’s office and drew a slow breath. Same glass wall, same name on the door. Same man on the other side.
He knocked once.
“Come in.”
Harvey was at his desk, pen in hand, tie loosened. When he looked up and saw him, something in his face softened--surprise first, then something close to pride.
“Well, would you look at that,” Harvey said, leaning back in his chair. “You clean up all right.”
Mike rolled his eyes, stepping inside. “You say that like you didn’t expect me to.”
“I didn’t say that,” Harvey replied, the corner of his mouth curving. “Just wasn’t sure you’d still remember how to tie one of those.”
"Maybe I didn't, maybe it's a clip-on."
“Wouldn't put it past you."
For a second, the office felt like it used to. Banter, ease, something alive between them.
Then Harvey gestured toward the chair. “You ready for today?”
Mike sat, smoothing his palms against his knees. “I’m going to try to be.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Harvey reached for a folder and slid it across the desk.
Mike picked it up. “This pro bono?”
“It is,” Harvey said. “Think of it as a welcome-back gift.”
Mike flipped through the first few pages, eyes scanning the summary. “Single mom, three kids, landlord trying to evict?”
“Trying to remodel the building and double her rent,” Harvey said. “You used to love this kind of case.”
“I still do,” Mike said, almost to himself.
Harvey leaned back, watching him. “If it ends up in court, I’ll handle that part,” he added. “But I don't see you letting it get that far.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“Guess we will,” Harvey said, his voice warm. “Welcome back, Mike.”
Mike smiled. “Thanks, Harvey.”
“Hey, don’t thank me yet,” Harvey said lightly. “You still have to get the win.”
“It's like riding a bike, right?”
“Sure. Just so long as you leave the bike helmet at home for this one."
"No promises on that." He stood, tucking the folder under his arm. “I’m gonna get working on this thing.”
“That’s what I’m paying you for."
Mike turned toward the door, but before he could step through, Harvey called after him. “Mike.”
He paused, glancing back.
“No pushing yourself,” Harvey reminded. “If you need a break, take it. And if you need help…” He nodded toward himself. “You know where to find me.”
For a second, Mike looked like he might argue, but the fight never came. “Of course.”
“Good. Have fun.”
Mike gave a small nod and left the office, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him softer than it had any right to be.
-
Mike’s office was still where he remembered it, though it looked like someone else had lived in it for a while. A few stray files on the desk, a half-dead plant by the window. He’d deal with that later.
He was halfway down the hall when a familiar voice stopped him.
“Mike?”
He turned, and there she was -- Donna, standing a few paces away, coffee in hand, surprise flickering into something brighter.
“Hey,” he said, unsure if he should smile or brace himself.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Donna closed the distance and pulled him into a hug. It caught him off guard, but after a second, he found himself returning it.
“It’s good to see you,” she said when they pulled apart.
“You too,” he said, and meant it.
They stood there a beat longer, the air between them holding a touch of awkwardness, like two people remembering how to talk after too long apart.
He hadn’t seen her since before prison. They’d talked a few times while he was inside--Donna playing the middleman whenever he and Harvey weren’t speaking. The calls got shorter after he and Rachel broke up. Donna always said she wasn’t choosing sides, but she didn’t need to. He knew whose side she was on. He never blamed her for that.
“I heard Harvey gifted you a pro bono for your first case back,” she said, smiling now.
“Guess he just figured I needed something familiar to start with.”
“He’s happy you’re here, you know. Happier than he’s been in a long time. The man was practically glowing when I talked to him this morning”
Mike looked down, a little bashful, at the folder in his hands. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s good to have you here again, Mike.”
“Good to be here."
“Well, I won't hold you up on your first day back. But I’ll see you around. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”
“Yeah. See you around.”
She walked off down the hall, the click of her heels fading into the steady noise of the office. Mike lingered for a moment before stepping into his own.
The room was smaller than he remembered, or maybe he was just bigger now--older, heavier with the time between then and now. He set the folder on the desk, sat down, and let out a long breath he'd been holding for too long.
Then he flipped the file open and got to work.
-----
Louis looked up from a stack of files as Harvey stepped into his office.
“What can I do for you, Harvey?” he asked, suspicious but intrigued.
“I need your expertise on something.”
The words nearly made Louis fall out of his chair. “My expertise?” he repeated, straightening immediately. “As in, you need my help?”
“Why do you always have to make it weird?”
Louis tried to play it cool and failed spectacularly. He sat up taller, elbows propped on the desk, his voice wobbling somewhere between casual and euphoric. “Sure. I mean, of course. Cool. Whatever. What can I help you with?”
Harvey hesitated just long enough for Louis’s anticipation to hit critical mass.
“I need to know what’s the best kind of toy to get a cat.”
Louis is positive he heard wrong. “...I’m sorry, what?”
“A cat, Louis. You know, small animal, fur, claws, makes a sound like--”
“I know what a cat is!” Louis shot back, eyes wide. “You got a cat? Oh my god, this is the best day of my life. I’m going to cancel all my appointments so I can properly educate you on--”
“I don’t have a cat, Louis.”
Louis froze mid-celebration. “Then why the hell are you asking me about cat toys?”
“It’s not for me. My friend has one. I just need to know what kind of toy a cat would like.”
Louis leaned back slowly, trying to piece this together. “Okay, well, what kind of cat is it?”
“What the hell do you mean, what kind of cat? It’s a cat, Louis. They’re all the same.”
Louis gasped like Harvey had personally insulted him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that. Cats are individuals, Harvey. They have preferences, personalities, souls!”
Harvey rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s grey. With stripes. That help?”
Louis perked up again. “A tabby! Classic choice. Okay, so you’ll want enrichment toys -- texture variety is key. Feathers, felt, maybe some catnip, but make sure it’s organic, because synthetic can really--”
“You know what? Forget I asked,” Harvey replied, already halfway to the door.
“No, no, don’t--don’t you dare walk away from this! I’ll compile a list of the best ones and have it to you by noon.”
“Great,” Harvey said, not slowing down. “Thanks.”
Louis beamed, calling after him, “You’re welcome! And Harvey? Don’t cheap out! Cats can tell!”
Harvey didn’t answer, but the faint shake of his head was enough to say it all.
-----
Later that afternoon, Harvey made his way down the hall toward Mike's office. The takeout menu in his hand was just an excuse, and he knew it. He told himself he was only checking in. Just making sure Mike hadn’t buried himself under a mountain of paperwork already, but really, he just wanted to see how he was holding up.
And maybe, he figured, Mike hadn’t eaten yet. He probably hadn’t.
Harvey knew he should be giving him space, letting him handle things on his own. But it was Mike’s first day back, and he didn’t see the harm in helping him along, at least not in small ways. Making sure he had lunch didn’t count as hovering. Not really.
When he reached the doorway, the sight stopped him.
Harvey leaned against the frame of the door, saying nothing. Just watching.
It was stupid, probably, but something about the scene tugged at him. The quiet focus, the scribbled notes in Mike’s handwriting, the way his knee bounced slightly as he read. It almost felt like a moment that belonged to another time but still somehow fit here.
For the first time in a long time, the office felt right again.
A warmth bloomed in his chest, unbidden and unrelenting.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually working through lunch,” Harvey said finally.
Mike startled, the highlighter slipping from his mouth and landing on the desk. “Jesus, Harvey. How long have you been standing there?”
Harvey grinned, stepping inside and setting a takeout menu on the corner of the desk. “Long enough. Just putting an order in. What do you want?”
“I’m fine,” Mike said, glancing back down at the file. “I’ll grab something later.”
“Not an option,” Harvey said easily. “Part of that whole ‘taking care of yourself’ speech I gave, remember?”
Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Right."
“So what do you want?"
“I don't know. I guess just get me some soup or something.”
“Soup,” Harvey repeated, already pulling out his phone. “That’s it?"
"Yeah. Soup’s fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
As Harvey tapped in the order, Mike reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Harvey didn’t even look up. “Put that away. My treat.”
“Harvey--”
“Mike,” Harvey said, that quiet finality in his voice that never left room for argument.
Mike hesitated, then exhaled through his nose and slipped the wallet back into his pocket. “Okay, but next time it's on me."
“I'm holding you to it."
Mike’s eyes flicked up, something unreadable in them for half a second before he looked away. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Harvey lingered in the doorway another moment, watching him go back to work, that faint warmth still at home somewhere deep in his chest.
-----
The rest of the day passed without incident. For the most part, Mike managed to stay focused. He worked through the case with the kind of precision Harvey had always admired--notes, tabs dividing statutes and precedent, a dozen ideas taking shape in the margins. Every time he crossed something off his list, a little of that old spark came back.
But it wasn’t easy.
Every time a door slammed down the hall, his body tensed before his mind could catch up. Raised voices from another office made him flinch. Once or twice, when the noise swelled or the walls felt too close, his focus slipped entirely. His thoughts drifted back -- to the cell, the weight of the air there, the sound of static from lights that never shut off. The memory of how alone he’d felt. Sometimes still does.
He’d close his eyes, breathe slow, and remind himself where he was. That the air smelled like coffee now, not disinfectant. That the light pouring through the window was real, not fluorescent.
Eventually, the room would settle again. The noise would fade into something harmless, and he’d pick up his pen and keep going.
By the time the afternoon light was on full display across his desk, the file was covered in notes, and Mike had found something close to normal again.
-----
The sun had started its slow descent behind the skyline, drowning Harvey's office in golden light. His laptop sat open in front of him, the screen filled with an absurdly long email titled “Essential Cat Enrichment for Beginners.”
Louis had outdone himself. The list was color-coded, annotated, and broken into categories ranging from “sensory stimulation” to “emotional bonding.” Harvey scrolled through it, muttering under his breath, “It’s a cat, not a client,” but still found himself adding a few to his cart anyway.
He was halfway through debating between a feather wand and a tunnel when a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Hey,” Mike said from the doorway. “Just wanted to say bye before I head out for the night. See if you needed anything else from me.”
Harvey shook his head, closing the laptop a little too quickly. “No, I’m good here. How was today?”
Mike stepped inside, shifting the folder under his arm. “It was… good, actually. Weirdly good.” He gave a small shrug. “I liked having something to focus on again. Makes me feel useful.”
“But?” Harvey asked, hearing what he didn’t say.
Mike let out a slow breath. “But it also feels different. Like it’s still following me, prison, I mean. The noise, the walls, the… feeling. Sometimes it sneaks up on me. I don’t know if I’ll ever really shake it.”
Harvey leaned back in his chair, studying him. “Give it time.”
Mike smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He’d heard that one before--after his parents, after his grandmother. Time heals. People loved saying that, like it was some universal cure. But time was just time. It didn’t heal anything; it just kept moving. And if you didn’t move with it, you got left behind.
Still, he appreciated the sentiment. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll try.”
“I know you will,” Harvey said, and the warmth in his voice left no room for doubt.
“All right. Night, Harvey.”
“Goodnight, Mike. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mike gave a small wave before slipping out, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Harvey sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway before turning back to the laptop. The tab still glowed with a half-filled cart of cat toys. He shook his head, smiling to himself before clicking checkout.
-----
The first week back went smoothly, except for the moments it didn’t.
Most days, Mike fell into a routine that almost felt normal. He showed up early, coffee in hand, never stayed later than he needed to, and worked through case files with the same meticulous focus he always had. He made progress on the pro bono, even got a call back from the opposing counsel about a potential settlement. It was good work. It was his kind of work.
But sometimes, without warning, the world tilted sideways.
On Thursday, it was the sound of someone slamming a door too hard down the hall. He flinched, told himself it was nothing, but the noise stuck somewhere in his chest and wouldn’t shake loose. Ten minutes later, he was standing in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, heart racing so fast he could barely breathe. The walls felt too close. The lights too bright. His reflection warped in the mirror as he tried to pull air into his lungs.
That’s how Harvey found him.
“Mike.”
The voice cut through everything.
Mike didn’t look up. “I’m fine,” he rasped, except he wasn’t.
Harvey moved closer, careful not to crowd him. “You’re not fine,” he said gently. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
Mike tried. Failed. Tried again. Harvey waited it out, quietly, like he’d done this before. He ran a paper towel under cool water and pressed it into Mike’s hand. “Here. Slow it down.”
After a few minutes, the worst of it started to ease. Mike leaned against the counter, eyes closed, trying to catch what was left of his breath. “I’m sorry,” he managed finally. “I swear, this isn’t--I can handle it. I can.”
Harvey shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“It’s just-this isn’t what you signed up for,” Mike said, voice shaking. “I can do this. I just need--”
“Hey,” Harvey interrupted, quiet but firm. “You had a panic attack. That’s all it was. You can’t help it.”
Mike nodded weakly, jaw tightening.
“Have you been sleeping any better?” Harvey asked after a beat.
Mike let out a humorless laugh. “Not really. But I’m trying, I promise. I don’t even drink before bed anymore, well, except for one night. I just...I needed the noise to stop, you know? Just for a minute.”
He was rambling now, words tripping over each other, panic clawing its way back.
“Mike,” Harvey said softly. “Breathe.”
Harvey filled a cup from the sink and handed it to him. Mike took a shaky sip, the water enough to help him focus again.
Harvey hesitated, then said, “You remember that therapist Julius recommended?”
Mike’s eyes lifted, wary.
“I think maybe it’s time,” Harvey said carefully. “You don’t have to keep doing this alone. It could help.”
It wasn’t an ultimatum, but it felt close.
Mike looked down, fingers tightening around the cup. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll call. Tomorrow.”
“Good,” Harvey said.
-----
Harvey was halfway through his nightly scotch when his phone buzzed.
Wyatt.
He smiled before answering. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Wyatt said, warmth already in his voice.
It had become a ritual, these nightly calls. A few minutes at the end of the day that stretched into half an hour before either of them noticed. They talked about work, about life, about whatever nonsense came to mind. It wasn’t complicated, it just felt easy.
Wyatt always asked about Mike. Not out of insecurity, but out of care. He knew Mike was part of Harvey’s life, someone important, and he never made Harvey feel like he had to tiptoe around it. If anything, Wyatt wanted him to talk about it. He wanted him to talk about everything.
“How’s he doing?” Wyatt asked tonight, same gentle question as always.
Harvey exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “He’s... trying. I’ve had to talk him down from the proverbial ledge a few times, but he’s putting the work in. He’s showing up, doing the best he can. I think he’s going to be okay.”
“Sounds like he’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.”
“Maybe,” Wyatt said. “But I know what it looks like when you care about someone. It’s nice to see.”
There was a pause, comfortable and quiet. Then Wyatt’s tone shifted, lighter. “So… I got a package today.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. From a certain big-shot attorney who apparently decided to send my cat an entire pet store.”
Harvey smirked, taking a sip of scotch. “Consider it a peace offering.”
“For what exactly?”
“For stealing you away from her the other night,” Harvey said easily. “Figured it was time I made amends.”
Wyatt laughed, that soft, unguarded sound Harvey could practically feel through the line. “You trying to bribe my cat, Harvey?”
“Is it working?”
“Well, she’s currently losing her mind over a feather wand, so I’d say your chances are good.”
“Great. Then my plan’s working perfectly.”
“Plan, huh?” Wyatt teased. “Where did you even get all this stuff from? Because I refuse to believe you knew what a feather wand was before ordering these.”
Harvey’s smile widened despite himself. “Let’s just say I consulted an expert.”
“I’ll have to be sure to thank them,” Wyatt said. “And you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for buying cat toys.”
“No, but I want to,” Wyatt said softly. “It’s sweet. Kind of unexpected.”
“Just don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
The conversation drifted, as it usually did--work updates, stories from Wyatt’s job site, discussing restaurants they want to try. It was ordinary in the best way.
Then, after a short lull, Harvey said, “You got plans this weekend?”
“Actually, yeah,” Wyatt said. “Saturday’s kind of booked.”
“Why, what’s up?”
Wyatt hesitated. “Gotta go to my mom’s place. Something’s up with her plumbing again. Told her I’d take a look.”
“You moonlight as a plumber now?”
“Something like that,” Wyatt said, laughing softly. “It’s probably just a loose valve, but she won’t stop calling until I fix it.” He paused, voice dipping a little. “You could… come with me, if you wanted. No pressure or anything. I just thought it might be nice.”
Harvey stilled, thrown by the offer. “You want me to come to your mom’s with you?”
“Yeah.” Wyatt’s tone turned sheepish, like he already expected a no. “I know it’s a lot. I just figured… she’s been wanting to meet you.”
For a second, Harvey considered all the usual outs--busy weekend, paperwork, anything to keep things neat and distant. But the words didn’t come.
Instead, he found himself saying, “Yeah. I’d like that.”
There was a small pause on the other end, then a laugh that was a mixture of surprise and happiness. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Wyatt said, warmth threading through his voice. “See you Saturday, then.”
“Saturday,” Harvey repeated.
They lingered there a moment longer, neither of them in a hurry to hang up. When the line finally went quiet, Harvey tossed the phone down next to him, still smiling faintly.
The apartment felt quieter than before, but not in a lonely way. More like the kind of quiet that comes after something good.
-----
Saturday morning, the city gave way to open highway.
Wyatt’s truck rumbled beneath them, the radio turned down low, sunlight spilling through the windshield. It was just over an hour to his mom’s place which gave them plenty of time to talk.
Wyatt did most of the talking. He had that knack for stories that landed somewhere between humor and heart. Stories about his crew, about the weird clients he’d had, about Ravioli's love of running around the apartment like a tiny tornado at three in the morning.
Harvey found himself laughing more than he expected to. He wasn’t used to quiet mornings like this--no suit, no phone buzzing every five minutes, no walls up. Just Wyatt’s voice, the road, and something that almost felt like peace.
He caught himself watching him sometimes, too. The way Wyatt’s eyes flicked to him when he said something funny, waiting for a reaction. The way sunlight hit the side of his face and brought out the faint freckles across his nose. The way he existed--unselfconscious, warm, completely present in every moment.
He was the kind of person Harvey used to think didn’t exist anymore.
They were somewhere past the halfway mark when Wyatt’s voice softened. “Hey, uh… there’s something I should probably tell you before we get there.”
Harvey looked over, pulse stuttering for reasons he couldn’t name. “Okay…”
Wyatt’s fingers drummed once against the steering wheel before settling. “My mom--she doesn’t hear that well out of her left ear. So, sometimes you have to talk a little louder when you're on that side.”
Harvey nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing, until Wyatt added, quieter now, “Souvenir from my dad. I told you about him, right?”
Harvey gave a small nod. “Yeah. A little.” Enough for Harvey to hate him.
Wyatt’s eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. “He showed up drunk at three in the morning one time. Things...they ended up worse than usual and, well..." He trailed off, the rest caught somewhere between his teeth and the whir of the tires. After a beat, he gave a small shake of his head, like brushing the memory aside.
Wyatt didn’t go any further than that. He didn’t have to. The silence that followed said enough.
“Anyway,” he said softly. “Just wanted to tell you that ahead of time. Didn’t want you to think she was ignoring you or anything. Sometimes she’ll ask you to repeat yourself, but she hates making people feel bad about it.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Harvey said, his voice smaller than he meant it to be. “And I’m really sorry about what you and your mom went through.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Some guy once told me that sometimes that makes it harder.”
Wyatt smiled then, small and thin around the edges. “Sounds like a pretty smart guy.”
“He’s pretty special,” Harvey said, and there was warmth in his voice that lingered between them.
The conversation drifted back to lighter things after that; music, work, Wyatt’s firm belief that cold pizza qualified as breakfast, but if you heated it, it became lunch. It took longer for the conversation to leave Harvey’s mind. He kept glancing over, catching the easy curve of Wyatt’s smile, and wondering how many times it had been stolen from him growing up.
-----
Sandy’s house was exactly what Harvey had pictured from Wyatt’s stories--modest but warm, with a porch that looked like it had seen years of summer mornings and lazy afternoons. There were potted plants by the door, a wind chime swaying gently in the breeze, and a faded welcome mat that read Home in cursive.
Wyatt knocked, and a moment later the door swung open.
“Wy-Guy!” Sandy’s voice was full of warmth before she even saw him. Then her gaze shifted to Harvey, and a smile broke across her face. “So this is the infamous Harvey Specter I’ve heard so much about.”
Harvey smiled, trying to hide the small tug in his chest at the nickname. Wy-Guy. “Hopefully all good things,” he said.
“Always,” she said without hesitation. Before he could react, she pulled him into a hug. It was the kind of hug that didn’t ask permission. The kind that felt like she’d known him for years.
“Come in, come in,” she said, ushering them both inside. “Can I get you boys something to drink? Coffee, tea? Are you hungry?”
“I think we’re okay, Mom,” Wyatt said with a grin.
Sandy gave him a look. “You’re never just ‘okay.’”
Wyatt turned to Harvey, mock-serious. “There’s no chance she’s letting you leave here without something to eat, so be warned.”
Harvey laughed, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Duly noted.”
The house smelled faintly of cinnamon. Family photos lined the walls--Wyatt at different ages, school pictures, one of him in a Little League uniform, and another of him standing proudly beside Sandy in front of what looked like her old house. It was lived-in in the best way.
They sat for a while in the living room, the conversation flowing easily. Sandy had a knack for asking questions without making them feel like questions. She asked about Harvey’s work, what kind of cases he handled, if he liked it. When he spoke, she listened the way Wyatt did--fully, with intention.
Eventually, Wyatt stood, brushing his hands against his jeans. “All right, Mom, lets take care of this plumbing disaster.”
Sandy sighed dramatically. “You make it sound like I flooded the house.”
“You called it ‘a crisis’ on the phone,” Wyatt reminded her.
“Because it was a crisis,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “Now it’s just a minor inconvenience.”
“Let me go grab my tools.”
He disappeared out the front door, leaving Harvey alone with Sandy and the faint clatter of Wyatt’s truck door opening outside.
For a beat, the house held its quiet; just the faint tick of a wall clock and the wind chime blowing gently in the wind outside. Sandy topped off her mug and looked over at him with a knowing smile.
“So,” she said, settling across from him at the table, “how are you liking my Wy-Guy?”
Harvey laughed under his breath. “He’s… something else.”
“That he is.” She watched him a moment, eyes warm but sharp in the way only a mother’s could be. “He likes you, you know.”
“I got that impression.” Harvey met her gaze, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “He’s easy to like.”
Sandy’s grin widened. “Good answer. You’re quick.” She took a sip of her coffee, still studying him. “You know, Wyatt’s always been good with people. He makes friends wherever he goes, but when it comes to dating, he’s careful now. I’m guessing he told you why.”
Harvey nodded. “He did.”
“Yeah.” Her voice softened. “That whole thing really took a lot out of him. I still remember those months after it ended. He kept trying to pretend he was fine, but I'm his mom, I know. It’s hard watching someone like him lose that light for a while.” She smiled then, small but real. “It’s nice to see it back. You bring that out in him.”
Harvey hesitated, caught between surprise and something warmer. “I don’t know if that’s me.”
“I do,” Sandy said simply.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched easy between them. Harvey glanced toward the window, sunlight catching the edge of a photo on the wall--Wyatt as a kid, gap-toothed and smiling ear-to-ear beside her.He wondered how many times that same smile had been stolen from his face back then.
Then the sound of Wyatt’s truck door slammed shut outside, followed by his voice calling in from the porch.
“Okay, Mom, where’s this world-is-ending plumbing issue of yours?”
“In the kitchen!” she called back, setting her mug down and reaching out to pat Harvey’s shoulder before she stood. “Come on, you can keep us company while he works.”
Harvey followed her into the kitchen, the air faintly scented with cinnamon and dish soap.
Wyatt stepped inside a moment later, toolbox in hand, and crouched beneath the sink while Sandy kept up a steady stream of conversation from above. Harvey could see where Wyatt got his gift for conversation. Sandy never let a lull linger; she filled silence like it was second nature. Harvey stayed nearby, leaning against the counter, handing Wyatt tools when he asked for them, chiming in here and there.
It didn’t take long for him to notice the small adjustments Wyatt made when he spoke to her; always standing on her right side, lowering his tone when she was close, raising it just slightly when he wasn’t. Harvey mirrored him without thinking, keeping to her right whenever he could, and when he caught himself on her left, he raised his voice just a little so she wouldn’t have to strain to hear.
At one point, Wyatt looked up from where he was crouched, wrench in hand, and caught it. The smallest smile pulled at his mouth; soft and grateful. Then he ducked back down, pretending to tighten another bolt.
-----
They ended up staying longer than they’d planned to.
After the sink was fixed, Sandy insisted they sit, slicing warm banana bread and setting out plates like it was a proper meal. The three of them lingered around the table, conversation spilling easily from one topic to the next. Wyatt teased his mom about her obsession with crocheting; she teased him about how he used to carry around a tiny screwdriver set in case anything broke. Harvey laughed more than he had in weeks.
Every so often, he’d catch himself just watching them--Wyatt leaning back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, Sandy talking with her hands, both of them smiling in that way that made everything else fade into background noise.
By the time they finally stood to leave, the sun was low, casting a soft glow throughout the house.
Sandy pulled Harvey into another hug before he could even reach the door. “You make sure this one brings you back for dinner sometime,” she said, patting his back like she meant it.
Harvey smiled. “Name the date. I’ll be there.”
“Good answer,” she said, echoing her earlier words, and let him go.
Wyatt stood a few steps back, watching the two of them with a grin that wouldn’t leave his face. When Harvey finally turned toward him, Wyatt just shook his head, amused.
“What?” Harvey asked.
“Nothing,” Wyatt said, still smiling. “Just… never seen her take to anyone that fast.”
“What can I say? All moms love me.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind it lingered all the way to the truck.
-----
The drive back was quiet, the kind of silence that felt easy. Wyatt hummed along to the radio, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting comfortably on the console. Harvey leaned back against the seat, still carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and coffee from Sandy’s kitchen. The warmth of it lingered in him in a way he hadn’t expected, like it had settled somewhere he didn’t realize had been empty.
For a while, neither of them said anything. The sky was streaked with the last traces of daylight, fading to navy by the time Wyatt finally spoke.
“Hey,” he said, glancing over. “Thanks for coming today. And for being so sweet to my mom. She really did like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said, laughing softly. “She actually pulled me aside before we left. Said, ‘Told me you were a good one, and to not screw it up.’”
“Sounds like something she’d say.”
“Yeah, she’s not exactly subtle,” Wyatt said, still grinning.
Harvey glanced sideways, lips twitching. “You mean the woman who still calls you Wy-Guy?”
Wyatt groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I figured you weren’t going to let that one go. She’s been calling me that for as long as I can remember.”
Harvey’s teasing faded into something softer. “I'll admit, it's kind of adorable. Your mom's great--you can tell she's got a big heart. I see a lot of you in her.”
“Thanks. That… means a lot.”
“She really did a great job raising you."
Wyatt glanced over, eyes warm in the dim light. “If I didn't know any better, I'm starting to think you might like me.”
“Am I that obvious? Guess I’ll have to work on my poker face.”
Wyatt smiled, eyes fixed back on the road in front of him.
Harvey turned his gaze toward the window, the city lights coming into view in the distance. He didn’t check his phone. He didn’t even think to. The moment felt full enough already.
-
Across town, Mike stood outside Harvey’s apartment door, a paper bag in his hand and the smell of fresh sushi drifting into the hall.
He’d texted once, then twice. No answer.
He told himself Harvey was probably busy, out with a client, maybe, but that didn’t stop the disappointment that crawled under his skin. He’d thought it would be nice. A small thing. A thank-you for the other night.
He knocked again, waited, and when there was still no response, he sighed and turned away.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual. By the time he reached the street, he’d already typed another message.
Hey, stopped by with dinner. Maybe next time.
-
Harvey’s phone buzzed against the cup holder just as they hit the edge of the city. He glanced down, saw Mike’s name, and hesitated before unlocking the screen.
Hey, stopped by with dinner. Maybe next time.
Guilt flickered sharp and quick in his chest.
He typed back before he could think about it too long.
Sorry, out with a client. Won’t be back till late. Rain check?
When he set the phone down, Wyatt glanced over. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Harvey said easily, forcing a small smile. “Just work stuff.”
Wyatt nodded, accepting the answer for what it was.
The city lights were starting to glow against the windshield, and Harvey stared out at them, the taste of the lie sitting bitter at the back of his throat. He could’ve told Wyatt the truth. He could’ve said Mike’s name, explained the message, and Wyatt would’ve reacted the same. Understanding, kind. That was the worst part. There hadn’t been a reason to lie, and he’d done it anyway.
He couldn’t have told you why, not exactly. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the same thing that made him pour a glass of scotch before bed every night--so he wouldn’t have to think. So he could slow his wandering mind and stop it from drifting back to the one person it always found its way to when he wasn’t careful.
Mike.