Chapter Text
A picture of the title card for “The Lavender House,” with the font written in a fun lavender-colored script font. Beneath the title, it says, “An OFMD SMAU(ish), By: MegOFMD. The picture behind the title is of a beach, with clean, light sand, and a sunset. The sky is hues of teal, orange, pink, and yellow. The water is lit up softly from the low angle of the sun. There are some clouds in the sky, but they’re wispy, and blue can be seen, too. Some lavender branch clipart borders the bottom, in dark lavender and white. It’s very soft and pastel.
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A picture of the synopsis. The background is the same as the title card, of a beach, with clean, light sand, and a sunset. The sky is hues of teal, orange, pink, and yellow. The water is lit up softly from the low angle of the sun. There are some clouds in the sky, but they’re wispy, and blue can be seen, too. Some lavender branch clipart borders the bottom, in dark lavender and white. It’s very soft and pastel. The synopsis says the following: Ed is in love with his best friend, Stede Bonnet. But Stede is straight… and married to his other best friend, Mary. To complicate matters, Ed, Stede, and Mary own a boutique inn together in Hawaii. Then there’s the fact that Stede and Mary’s kids call Ed “Uncle.” He’s fucked on all accounts, and doesn’t know how to stop pining for the man he definitely, certainly, without a doubt, (maybe?) can’t have. Will he ever figure out a way to get over Stede Bonnet?
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A picture of the Ratings and Tags. The background is the same as the title card, of a beach, with clean, light sand, and a sunset. The sky is hues of teal, orange, pink, and yellow. The water is lit up softly from the low angle of the sun. There are some clouds in the sky, but they’re wispy, and blue can be seen, too. Some lavender branch clipart borders the bottom, in dark lavender and white. It’s very soft and pastel. The Ratings and Tags say the following: Rating: Mature to start, will become Explicit. Tags: Ed Teach loves Stede Bonnet, Pining, Best Friends to Lovers, Infidelity (but it’s basically mutual), Alcohol and/or Marijuana, probably some fairly minor angst (but nothing too heavy, just Ed’s pining angst, mostly), Gay Awakening, Soft Dom Stede Bonnet, Mostly Top Stede (but possibly some Bitches be Switches, I don’t know, we’ll see how I feel).
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A picture of Ed’s public twitter profile. His handle is @bornonabeach, and his bio says, “Co-owner of The Lavender House Inn & Suites, Oahu.” His header is a picture of some palm tree silhouettes from below. His profile picture is him with his hair up in a bun, smiling and looking off to the side. He’s following 369 people and has 3,592 followers.
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A picture of Ed’s private twitter profile. His handle is @edbutshhh. His header is a picture of the moon in a starry sky. His profile picture is him with his hair down, and he’s laughing. He’s following 0 people and has 0 followers.
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A picture of Stede’s public twitter profile. His handle is @stediebee, and his bio says, “Co-owner of a little boutique hotel, with my wife and best friend.” His header is a picture of some shells lying on top of sand. His profile picture is him with a closed-mouth smile, his hair fluffy and styled. He’s following 216 people and has 2,689 followers.
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A picture of Stede’s private twitter profile. His handle is @privatestede. His header is a picture of some palm trees silhouetted against a pink and blue sky. His profile picture is a side profile of him with sun glasses on. He appears to be in a car. He’s following 0 people and has 0 followers.
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A picture of Mary’s public twitter profile. Her handle is @marybonnet, and her bio says, “Painter, boutique hotel owner, mother, wife. Living in paradise.” Her header is a picture of a turtle, done in a simple art style, with greens and blues. Her profile picture is her with a wide smile, looking off to the side. She’s following 362 people and has 912 followers.
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A picture of Mary’s private twitter profile. Her handle is @MaryAllamby. Her header is a picture of paint strokes in blue, teal, green, yellow, white, orange, and dark blue-green colors. Her profile picture is a picture of her looking at the camerawith wide eyes and a slightly goofy expression on her face. She’s following 0 people and has 0 followers.
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A picture of Alma’s public twitter profile. Her handle is @albonnee, and her bio says, “Studied psychology and visual arts at UC San Diego.” Her header is a picture of wheat-like plants, close up, with a blurry background behind them. Her profile picture is her with her head slightly tilted, a more serious expression on her face, and her hair down and blonde. She’s following 671 people and has 1,379 followers.
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A picture of Alma’s private twitter profile. Her handle is @jellybean. Her header is a picture of pink, purple, white, orange, and blue swirly lines, lined up together in a haphazard pattern. Her profile picture is a picture of her looking at the camera, head slightly tilted, and to the side a bit. She’s following 0 people and has 0 followers.
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A picture of Louis’s public twitter profile. His handle is @loubon, and his bio says, “Studying music composition at Juilliard.” His header is a picture of swirling inky-looking abstract colors, in pinks, oranges, yellows, purples, and blues His profile picture is serious, looking at the camera, and his hair is slicked back and almost to his shoulders. He’s following 658 people and has 912 followers.
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A picture of Louis’s private twitter profile. His handle is @trebleclef. His header is a picture of music notes and music bars swirling around, in blues and purples. His profile picture is him looking at the camera, a slight smile on his face, and he’s wearing a hat. He’s following 0 people and has 0 followers.
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Ed has spent a lifetime pining over a man he’ll never have. He’s tried—God, how he’s tried—to move on. He’s built an entire life, filled it with people and places and distractions. And yet, some part of him has always belonged to Stede Bonnet. Will always belong to Stede Bonnet.
It’s not a miserable existence, not really. He has his best friends, a career he loves, a home in one of the most beautiful places in the world. He, Mary, and Stede built this small boutique hotel in Hawaii together. What had started as nothing more than a half-formed dream, then turned into sketches on napkins, and finally became something real when they’d made the leap and moved to a new country—a new beginning. And now they owned something beautiful: a sustainable, small inn that respects the land and culture around it. A success, by every measure.
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A picture of a hotel lobby. The walls, floors, and ceilings are made of wood, and the room has a very natural feel to it. There are leather couches against a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, with stone coffee tables in front of them, surrounded by rattan ottomans. There are hanging swinging wicker-style chairs opposite the coffee tables from the couches, suspended from the ceiling.
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And for the most part, he’s been happy here.
Mary and Stede’s kids grew up in these hallways, barefoot and laughing, tracking sand across the marble floors, sneaking pastries from the kitchen with frosting-smeared grins when they thought no one was watching. Ed let them get away with it every time. That was his role: Uncle Ed, the fun one, the one who turned a blind eye when they wanted to stay out just a little later, who covered for them when they got into trouble. He loves those kids. Not kids anymore, really—Louis is off at college now, Alma just graduated, and she’s come back home to work at the hotel.
It’s strange, watching them step into adulthood. It reminds him how long they’ve all been in each other’s lives. How long he’s been here. How long he’s been holding onto something that will never be his.
Stede and Mary are still together. That was never a surprise. They always made sense, in that effortless, unshakable way. Even back when they were young. Even back when Ed thought—hoped—Stede might want something else. Might want some one else. Might want him.
But it never happened. And life kept moving. Ed did what he always does—he adapted, he survived, he made peace with the way things were. He’s had relationships. Flings, dates, even a couple serious ones. None of them lasted. None of them ever measured up to the one thing he wanted but could never have.
That thought lingers now, as he leans against the front desk, watching Alma and Stede across the lobby. They’re locked in a playful argument about who’s the better surfer, their voices carrying across the open space, warm and familiar. Stede’s hands move animatedly as he insists, “Alma, I have been surfing since before you were born!” and Alma just laughs, shaking her head like she’s indulging him.
Ed smiles. He can’t help it. Stede is a force of nature—golden and dazzling, the kind of person who makes even the simplest moments feel like something special. Like that warmth you feel when you walk into the place you’re most comfortable.
And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that’s why Ed has never been able to let go. Because Stede feels like home.
Some days, Ed wonders if he should leave. Pack up, start fresh somewhere else. Try to carve out a life that isn’t so tangled up in longing. But how can he leave when so much of his heart is here?
After all, Stede has always been there. From the very first moment he’d started at that awful school.
Ed remembers.
He remembers being the new kid, back home in Aotearoa, awkward and out of place, standing in the middle of a world that clearly wasn’t meant for him.
His mother’s first day as a teacher at the private school had also been his first day as a year three student there. The uniforms were too stiff, the hallways too pristine, the other kids eyeing him with a thinly veiled curiosity—maybe even contempt, like they could already tell he didn’t belong.
Before he walked inside, his mother had knelt, kissed the top of his head, and squeezed his hand one last time. “You’ll be alright,” she’d told him, her voice firm but loving. “Be good, Eddie.”
He had no idea if she actually believed that.
All he knew was that he had never felt so out of place in his life.
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A picture of a green, water-color-looking, fern. There are words written above the fern that says, “A long time ago…”, written in lavender, and a flowing, stylized script. The background is a soft, green watercolor.
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“Do you like sweets?”
The voice comes from behind him, interrupting the quiet hum of the cafeteria. Ed barely processes the words at first, too absorbed in the book he’s hunched over—his favorite one, about pirates, the only thing that’s felt familiar in this strange new world.
He looks up, and his breath catches.
The boy standing there has a mess of wavy, golden hair, and when their eyes meet, Ed feels his stomach twist in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. Hazel—his eyes are hazel, warm and bright and kind in a way that feels almost impossible.
Ed nods, unable to form a single coherent thought.
“I’m Stede,” the boy says, already sitting down beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Their shoulders bump, and the twist in Ed’s stomach deepens. “And this is my best friend, Mary.”
Only now does Ed notice the small brunette girl settling into the seat across from them, offering a quiet, knowing smile. He feels a little guilty for not having seen her until Stede pointed her out, but he’s too caught up in the boy beside him to focus on much else.
“I have an extra brownie,” Stede continues, a touch hesitant, but still smiling. “And I thought I could… share it with you… if you want.”
He holds it out, and Ed swallows hard, his heart hammering in his chest for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand. Stede’s smile is so open, so hopeful.
Ed should say something. Should say anything.
“Thank you,” he finally manages, his voice quieter than he intends. He reaches for the brownie, their fingers brushing for the briefest second, and warmth spreads through his chest.
“We thought… maybe you’d like some company for lunch,” Stede adds. “Though, I should probably warn you, we’re not… cool. So we may not be the best company. If you want… better friends, I’d understand.”
Ed frowns at that, something sharp and unfamiliar tugging at his ribs. He doesn’t like that Stede thinks so little of himself. He doesn’t like that someone, somewhere, must have made him feel that way.
As far as Ed’s concerned, Stede and Mary are the only ones in this entire school who have even bothered to talk to him. That alone makes them the best company he could ask for.
“Nah, I’m good,” Ed says, tearing off a piece of the brownie and popping it into his mouth. It’s delicious. “Everyone else here seems pretty lame to me. I think you’re wrong about not being cool.” He gestures to the brownie before taking another bite. “Only the coolest people could bring something this good and be willing to share it.”
It’s a silly thing to say, but Stede beams, and Ed’s stomach does another nervous flip.
************
A picture of waves and sand from above. The water is very aqua, and the sand is very clean and soft-looking. There is lavender writing, in a flowing, stylized script font, that says, “Back to the Present…”
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“Hey.”
A gentle bump against his shoulder pulls Ed from his thoughts, grounding him back in the present. He blinks, looking over to find Stede watching him with a knowing smile. “Looked like you were somewhere else.”
“Mmm.” Ed picks up the stack of papers in front of him, taps them neatly against the desk—busywork, a distraction, anything to cover just how deeply he’d been thinking about Stede. About the way it all began. “Was thinking about the day we met.”
“Blast from the past, eh?” Stede grins, settling more comfortably beside him as he leans against the counter. “Mary’s got an art event tonight. Want to have dinner with Alma and me?”
Before Ed can answer, Alma appears, throwing herself into his arms like she’s still a kid, even though she’s not. He catches her easily, hugging her tight.
“Hey, Uncle Eddie,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Missed you.”
“Missed you more, Jellybean.” Ed squeezes her once before letting go, though his heart still swells with warmth. “Can’t believe you didn’t stop by to say hi the second you got home. Thought I was your favorite.”
“You are! ” Alma declares, all wide-eyed sincerity—before shooting a mischievous look at Stede. “But Dad gets jealous when I say that.”
Stede gasps, feigning offense, though the amusement in his eyes gives him away. “Hey, I know where I stand in the rankings of favorite family members,” he says with a laugh. “And I don’t blame you, Al. Uncle Ed is my favorite, too.”
And just like that, the breath catches in Ed’s throat.
It’s a joke. A casual, easy tease. But his stomach flutters anyway, hopeless and ridiculous, because Stede has no idea what words like that do to him.
No idea how Ed has spent a lifetime wanting something he’ll never have.
But still, he smiles, because it’s enough just to be here. It has to be.
“Dinner sounds good,” he manages, setting his papers aside. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
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Private tweet from Ed on April 24, 2025 at 2:31 PM: Looking forward to dinner. Haven’t had a chance to catch up with Alma since she’s been back. But I’m gonna miss the dinners with just Stede and me on Mary’s art nights. Can’t pretend it’s a date with Al around. (downcast emoji)
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After spending an absurd amount of time picking an outfit—more time than he’d ever admit—Ed finally feels ready. He grabs a bottle of wine, gives himself one last glance in the mirror, and heads for the door.
He’d settled on the deep purple silk button-up Stede gave him for Christmas last year. Short-sleeved, patterned with delicate black roses. Thought you’d look good in purple, Stede had said with a smile when he handed it over, and that had been all it took—now, half Ed’s wardrobe was some shade of violet. He’s paired it with black pants, the fabric soft and well-worn, the shirt tucked just enough to look effortless. He’s left a few buttons undone, enough that his hawk tattoo is on full display.
Docs on his feet, a pearl necklace resting just above the hollow of his throat. His hair is pulled up into a deliberately messy bun, a few strands falling loose at the crown—he knows it turns heads when he wears it like this. Knows Stede has looked at him before, eyes lingering just a little too long. And just for the hell of it, he’s added a touch of eyeliner, subtle but enough to accentuate the deep brown of his eyes.
Alma is going to be there, of course. But there’s no harm in looking his absolute best.
They all live on the property—part of the boutique hotel’s charm. A smaller staff, a tighter-knit group, always close if they’re needed. The walk from Ed’s cottage to Stede and Mary’s is quick, but Ed takes his time, rolling the weight of the wine bottle in his hand, steadying the anticipation in his chest.
It’s just dinner. Just the three of them. Just another night.
And yet, as Ed walks up the familiar path, bottle of wine in hand, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe this time, something will change.
Of course, it’s a pipe dream. A cruel, stupid fantasy. Stede is head over heels in love with his wife. Always has been, always will be.
The door swings open before he can knock.
“Welcome!” Stede grins, bright and warm, pulling Ed into a hug that feels like coming home.
Ed lingers. Just a second too long, just enough to soak in the way Stede’s arms wrap around him, the solid warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of bergamot and lavender—the cologne Ed had picked out for him on his last birthday. It had quickly become Stede’s favorite.
He wonders if Stede even remembers who gave it to him.
“Hey, Uncle Eddie.”
Ed startles, pulling back too fast, heat crawling up his neck as he turns to find Alma watching him.
She’s smiling. Not just smiling— knowing .
Something in her expression makes his stomach lurch, a flicker of recognition that has him fighting the urge to fidget, to look away.
She can’t know.
He’s spent years hiding this, burying it, forcing it down where it won’t hurt anyone. But now, standing here with his pulse hammering in his throat, he wonders if he’s been fooling himself.
Maybe Alma sees what he’s tried so desperately to deny.
Maybe she isn’t the only one. And that thought terrifies him.
“So, what’re we having for dinner?” Ed asks, stepping further into the room, doing his best to steady the thud of his heart and act like everything’s normal.
“Dad let me cook,” Alma announces proudly, practically glowing. “So I made your favorite.”
“You made chocolate cake for dinner?” Ed teases, raising a brow, and Alma shoots him a look that’s all exasperated affection.
“Okay, your other favorite,” she huffs.
“I’m kidding, Jellybean,” he laughs, pulling her into a side hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Rack of lamb?”
“Yep,” she says with a grin. “And it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. Which I do.”
Ed laughs again, the sound easy, genuine. God, he loves this kid. Loves the fire in her, the confidence she walks through the world with. It’s something he’s always admired in both Alma and Louis—this quiet certainty that they’re loved. That they matter.
It’s the kind of thing none of them—Ed, Stede, Mary—had been given freely when they were kids. Not like this.
Except for his mum. She was the exception. Always there, always steady. Not just for Ed, but for Stede and Mary, too, once they’d become a trio.
Ed takes a breath, heart soft as he glances between Alma and Stede. This little family they’ve made is something sacred, and why he could never actually leave.
“Let’s eat,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. “I’m starving.”
************
It’s weird to see Alma drinking wine.
He remembers when she toddled around with a sippy cup in one hand and a stuffed dolphin in the other, face sticky with jam, babbling stories only she could understand. That doesn’t feel like a memory so much as it does something that happened yesterday.
But now she’s sitting at the dinner table, swirling a glass of red, talking confidently about work and guests and renovations, and Ed can’t quite wrap his head around it.
Where did the time go?
All these years, and he’s never told Stede how he feels. Never even come close. But he can’t. Not really. It would change everything.
And their friendship—this quiet, steady closeness they’ve built over a lifetime—Ed’s not sure it would survive a confession like that. Stede doesn’t want him. Has never looked at him that way. Has never said as much, no—but Ed knows. He sees the way Stede looks at Mary. The way his whole face softens when she walks into the room.
It’s love. True, deep, simple love.
And Ed? Ed’s just... Ed.
He’s never said as much, but Ed wouldn’t be surprised if Stede saw him like a brother. He knows Mary has called him one before.
Mary… He couldn’t do that to her anyway. Not Mary. She’s just as much his best friend as Stede is. She’s family. Always has been. It would be cruel to upend their lifelong friendship with such a confession. And Ed might be a lot of things, but he’s not cruel.
“What’re you thinking about, Kitten?”
The sound of Stede’s voice jolts him back, the nickname curling around his ribs like a warm hand and twisting the knife all at once. Still. Still, after all these years, Stede insists on calling him that.
And still, after all these years, it hits Ed like a punch to the gut.
Does Stede not realize how intimate that nickname sounds now? How it lands so differently than it used to?
But Ed doesn’t ask him to stop. He never could.
He likes it too damn much.
“Just thinking about how much time has passed,” Ed says, trying to sound casual, though he’s still slightly flustered from Stede calling him Kitten . His voice comes out a little rougher than he means it to. “Can’t believe Al is here drinking wine with us.”
He glances over, and that’s when he notices it—Alma, watching him a little too closely.
It’s not a judgmental look, not exactly. Just... sharp. Perceptive in a way that makes his heart skip. She’s never looked at him like that before—or maybe she has, and he just didn’t want to see it.
He wonders if she’s picking up on something. Wonders if, now that she’s grown, she’s starting to notice the way he softens around her dad. The way he looks at him when he thinks no one else is paying attention.
He’s always been careful around Mary, always made sure to draw a line. But Alma? He’s let himself relax around her, never really thinking she’d notice because of her age. But she’s not that little girl anymore. That’s going to have to change.
“It’s kind of crazy to think about, isn’t it?” Stede says, placing his hand on top of Alma’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Our little girl is all grown up.”
And just like that, Ed’s heart twists.
Because for the briefest moment, he sees it—his hand over Stede’s, a life where they raised Alma and Louis together. A family. Their family.
It’s a selfish thought, one he hates himself for the moment it crosses his mind. Because Mary is kind, and good, and his friend. And because Alma and Louis exist only because of Mary and Stede. And the thought of a world where they don’t exist is unbearable.
But still.
God, he wishes it had been him.
“So cheesy,” Alma says, playfully rolling her eyes, though there’s a shimmer there. “C’mon, can we stop with the sentimental crap?” she adds, making them all laugh.
************
After dinner, Alma stands and stretches, then turns to Ed.
“Hey,” she says, like it’s just a thought that occurred to her. “Want to take a walk with me? Haven’t really had much time to catch up since I got home.”
Stede rises to clear the table. “I’ll handle the kitchen,” he says with a smile. “And maybe when you’re back, we can watch a movie?”
Ed hesitates for a beat too long.
“Sure,” he says, pushing to his feet, heart thudding a little harder now.
He wants to believe it’s just a walk. Just Alma wanting to catch up. But a small part of him wonders if she has other reasons—and that part of him is starting to panic.
They walk in silence for a while, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound between them. Alma doesn’t rush it. She leads him past the gardens and guest cottages, out toward the little playground at the edge of the property—the one that overlooks the ocean.
Ed’s heart gives a quiet ache when he sees it.
He loves it here.
The salt air, the rhythmic pull of the tide, the swing set creaking just faintly in the breeze. It’s peaceful. Familiar. And heavy with memories.
He and Stede used to chase the kids around this place. Laughing, breathless, covered in sand. Ed can still hear the echoes of Louis’s shrieks and Alma’s giggles when he pushed her higher and higher on the swings.
His stomach twists.
He needs to stop thinking of those moments like they were anything more than what they were—family adjacent. A borrowed kind of closeness.
Because Stede was never his.
Alma drops into one of the swings and kicks off gently, the chain groaning under the motion. Ed lowers himself onto the swing beside her. They both face the ocean, the full moon laying a silver path across the water.
************
A picture of a moon over the ocean, water illuminated by the glow of the moon. There are tall palm trees silhouetted against the sky. Small waves crash on the sand. It’s very peaceful-looking.
************
It’s beautiful out here at night. He’s not sure why he’s never come out here after dark before. Maybe he will now. Maybe he needs to.
“Are you in love with my dad?”
The question lands like a slap.
Ed’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide. His stomach flips. Shit…
“What makes you say that?” he manages, though his voice is thin and strained, his pulse loud in his ears.
“The way you look at him,” Alma says softly. “I noticed it when I was younger, too, but… I thought it was just fondness. Now I’m not so sure.”
Ed swallows, throat dry.
“I love your dad. Very much,” he says, clinging to the words like a lifeline. “He’s my best friend.”
“That’s not my question, Uncle Ed.”
She turns to look at him, eyes steady and far too knowing.
“I asked if you’re in love with him.”
And fuck.
Fuck.
He can’t lie to her. He could, technically. Could give her some half-answer or change the subject. But she’s not a kid anymore. And he loves her. Too much to lie to her face.
But he can’t tell her the truth either. Can he? What would she do with it? What would it do to them all?
God, he’s been so stupid. He thought he’d hidden it well—kept it buried deep enough. Stede never noticed. He’s so blissfully, painfully unaware. But Alma? Alma and Louis?
He’s underestimated them.
He’s been so dumb.
All he can really do now is be honest.
“Fuck, Al,” Ed says, his voice low, tight. He sways a little in the swing, nerves twisting in his gut. “I’m sorry. I… I thought I was better at hiding it. I never should’ve let you see.”
“So you are,” Alma says quietly. She’s stopped swinging now, fully turned toward him. “I knew it.”
“Alma…” He twists the chains of the swing to face her more directly. “You can’t say anything. Not to anyone. This is mine to carry, alright? I should’ve been more careful. I’m just… I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
She doesn’t respond with words. She just stands and walks over, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation. Ed folds into the hug before he can even think about it, burying his face in her shoulder, clinging to the comfort she offers like a lifeline. Emotion swells in his chest—grief, guilt, something close to relief.
“How long have you felt this way?” she asks gently, pulling back and returning to her swing, this time turned toward him.
Ed lets out a breathless, resigned huff of a laugh. “How long have I known your father?”
Her eyes widen, and then her expression softens, something heavy passing through it—something like heartbreak.
“Uncle Ed…” she whispers. “You’ve loved him that long?”
He closes his eyes, and it all comes rushing back.
Stede spinning Mary on the dance floor at prom, laughing as she dipped him instead. Stede passing him notes in the back of their college lecture hall, giggling about nonsense. Stede asking him to be his best man with those same bright eyes, and Ed saying yes, even as something inside him broke.
He opens his eyes to find Alma watching him, like she already knows all of that—feels it in the silence.
“Why does he call you ‘Kitten’?” she asks, and Ed’s stomach clenches. Of course she noticed that, too.
He laughs—soft, a little sad. “When we were kids, there was this stray cat that used to hang around campus. I loved her. She’d come find us at lunch, let us feed her scraps. I named her Kitten —thought it was funny, calling her that even when she got big.”
Alma stays quiet, listening with full attention.
“One day, the Badminton twins overheard Stede calling for Kitten, and they thought he meant me. Started laughing, asking why he called me that. I panicked and told Stede not to say anything about the cat—didn’t trust those guys not to hurt her. So Stede made something up on the spot. Said he called me that because I climbed trees really well, like a kitten.”
He shakes his head, smiling faintly. “And it stuck.”
“You two haven’t been…” Alma begins, and Ed’s brow furrows.
There’s no way— no way —she thinks her father has feelings for him.
“Having an affair, have you?” she asks.
“What? No!” Ed blurts, sitting up straighter in the swing. “Alma, no. Your dad… he has no idea I feel this way.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice quiet now, her expression unreadable as she looks away.
They fall into silence. Alma resumes swinging gently, toes dragging through the dirt, while Ed just sits there, motionless, staring out over the moonlit ocean.
And slowly, something strange begins to settle in his chest.
Relief.
Not joy, not calm, not ease. But something close.
Because for the first time in his entire life, he’s not alone with this. The weight of it—the years of aching, hiding, denying—doesn’t feel quite so unbearable now that someone else knows. Now that Alma knows.
She finally slows to a stop, her swing creaking once before going still. She turns back toward him.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Alma says. “And Uncle Ed?”
“Yeah?” he replies, his voice softer now, like something inside him has come undone.
“Thank you for not breaking my family apart when we were growing up,” she says.
Her words land somewhere low in his chest, confusing and painful all at once.
Break her family apart?
He shakes his head slowly. “Alma, that never would’ve happened. Even if I’d admitted my feelings. If anything, it would’ve just meant I would’ve had to leave.”
“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Alma says.
And just like that, Ed’s stomach lurches.
“Wait, what?” he says, startled. What does that mean?
“I’m not so sure Dad doesn’t feel the same way you do, Uncle Ed,” Alma says. “I just think… maybe he doesn’t realize it.”
No.
No. That’s not… that can’t be true. Stede is straight. Stede loves Mary. Stede doesn’t see Ed as anything more than his oldest, dearest friend.
Does he?
“And even if what you said is true,” Alma continues, her voice steady but soft, “that you would’ve had to leave if you’d ever admitted your feelings to Dad… that still would’ve broken my family apart.”
The words hit hard—quieter than the rest, but heavier. Ed lets them settle, lets them crack something open in his chest. He doesn’t try to explain it away. Doesn’t argue. He just stands, slow and unsteady, and holds out a hand.
Alma looks up at him and reaches for it without hesitation. He curls his fingers around hers, gently pulling her from the swing and into his arms.
She melts into him, burying her face in his chest, and Ed holds her like he never wants to let go. His arms wrap tight around her as tears rise hot in his eyes and spill over, quiet and unashamed.
“I love you, Uncle Ed,” Alma murmurs against him.
He presses his chin to the top of her head, holding her close, grounding himself in the solid warmth of her.
“I love you, too, Jellybean,” he says, voice breaking.
And for a moment, standing there beneath the moonlight with the sound of the ocean just below, Ed lets himself feel it all—grief, love, regret, a flicker of relief that comes from simply being seen. And at the back of it all, the tiniest spark of hope twinkles deep in his gut. He refuses to let it bloom too brightly, worried he’ll end up burned, but he lets it simmer, soft, but warm. He lets Alma’s words— I’m not so sure Dad doesn’t feel the same way you do —settle inside of him. Maybe…
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Private tweet from Alma on April 24, 2025 at 9:43 PM: Uncle Ed is wrong. I’m convinced Dad feels the same way about him… But I can’t even ask him, because I don’t want to out him if he isn’t ready. (downcast emoji)
Reply from Alma: They’d be awfully cute together, though. (big, watery eyes, frowning emoji) And I’m convinced Mum would think so, too.
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