The knock at the door was perfectly timed. Carson had just wrapped up the game, for the most part, so Sam was able to slip away and get the takeout without missing anything vital. It was just as hot outside as it was in her house, but at least there was a breeze out there. At the first squeak of Styrofoam, Percy sprinted down the stairs, screaming for handouts. Ada scooped him up and rubbed his fluffy cheek, smiling over her shoulder at Sam. She looked as though she had always been a part of the group.

When Sam returned with plates, most of the papers and dice had been cleaned off the dining table, which was temporarily in the middle of the living room. She pulled up the ottoman she had been sitting on—she didn't have enough dining chairs for all of them—and passed plates around. It felt so good to be home, and to have people over. She was starting to feel somewhat normal again.

It actually felt weird to not have Aidan around all the time. Sam kept expecting him to walk through the door at any minute with a casual apology for being late. It had been about a week since he last touched base. Noah was keeping him busy, and Cain had to work often—it was patio season, after all; but as far as she knew, Noah had been walking some with the help of a crutch and was begrudgingly accepting the physical rehabilitation.

Even though the constant threat of violence wasn't completely gone, considering Noah was still relatively loose, Sam thought something had shifted that night in the study. Noah did come outside again, and he did let them help him off the porch. They didn't say another word to each other until the day they all parted ways for the time being. Even then, it was just a simple "bye."

Ada gave Percy a piece of chicken, which he devoured with a gleeful snarl. She caught her eye with an easy grin. "You okay?" she murmured as Charlotte insisted a character cannot be double poisoned.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about them."

No one seemed to notice their little exchange. Ada squeezed her knee briefly before returning to the conversation. They had talked about them earlier, she was worried too. Sam doubted anything was wrong, she just wondered what was keeping them so busy.

"Hey, Sam." Shelly tapped her long nail absently on her plate. "Are you going to be taking any healing skills next level or should I grab something?"

"I can, don't worry about it." Sam grinned and tried to keep it light. "Carson, are we ever going to see that chest again? I really want to figure out how to open it."

"Not to spoil anything, but there's a chance you'll see it in the next arc." He grinned the way he always did when talking about his writing.

"I still don't trust it," Charlotte said with a scowl at him. "Every time I try a puzzle you find a way to almost murder me."

"It is not my fault you keep screwing them up. I don't make the rules."

She sputtered, "Yes, you do!"

Ada's phone rang, and after checking the screen, she excused herself. Sam was the only one who really noticed her demeanour shift. She went into the kitchen and stood by the back door, sort of curled in on herself. Ada's voice was too hushed to hear over the conversation around her. She tried not to be nosey, but she couldn't help her eyes straying over to Ada. She caught a faint: "You can't be serious," but that was about it.

Sam stopped trying to listen then. It was easy to get caught up again in the D&D talk, and before she knew it, Ada returned to her seat with the same genuine smile she had left with. Sam let it go. If it was important, and she wanted to, she would tell her about it.

Carson left first, stuck with an opening shift in the morning. Shelly wasn't far behind, her schedule was booked up for the day. Charlotte stuck around for a while after, but by ten, Ada and Sam were alone and halfway through a bottle of wine, and for the first time years she told the story of what happened to Milo. It felt amazing to get it off her chest. After the fall, it had been closer to the surface than ever, hard to ignore. So when Ada asked about the fall, the memory, Sam was happy to tell her. And not once did she mention the call. Whatever it had been about, she didn't show any sign of it bothering her, and Sam forgot about it long before bed.

So sure, Sam had a lot on her mind still, even after all the madness came to a close, but she guessed that was the point. The troubles never truly end, not completely. There's always an excuse, a reason. And most of all, there's always something waiting to get in the way.