.

Seven

(In which Sunday brunch is tense but good news is forthcoming.)

The plan had been to fish for a few extra hours on Saturday morning to make up for all the time they'd lost earlier in the week, but the boat had other plans.

Lyon hung back on the dock with Toby and watched with raised eyebrows as Yuka stormed about the boat, kicking at the sides and swearing up a storm. When Yuka's hotheadedness devolved into a full-blown tantrum, it was best to wait him out.

"Does this mean I can go home?" Toby asked hopefully.

Lyon shot him an exasperated look. "No. Maybe this time you can help us patch things up."

Honestly, why was he the only adult around here sometimes?

Toby huffed and sulked, but didn't scuttle off. Lyon kept an eye on him anyway. It had been hard enough to get him down here in the first place, and the Monday allergies were likely to be especially bad after this.

"Should we get Jura?" Lyon asked when Yuka paused to suck in a breath.

Yuka kicked the bulwark again. "No. He'll just say we need to ground the boat for days or buy a new one. If we fix it ourselves, we should at least be able to get in a few hours of fishing."

"Hours?" Toby whined.

Lyon crossed his arms over his chest. "At this rate, your tantrum is going to take just as long as Jura would and you're going to put more holes in the hull. If you want to get something done today, don't you think we should get started?"

Yuka scowled. "I guess."

"But we do need to have Jura look at it later. We'll need to actually replace the rudder rather than just jerry-rig it. And we're going to have to talk about overhauling or replacing the boat soon, even if you don't want to."

This set Yuka off grumbling again. There was nothing he hated discussing quite so much as replacing the boat. It made a queasy feeling twist in Lyon's stomach too, when he considered what it might mean for their livelihood and how much it might set them back, but he was too practical to live in a state of denial about it. It wasn't as if they hadn't known this day was coming. The boat was already seasoned by the time Yuka's father had bought her, and she was downright old now. Things didn't last forever, no matter how well-maintained.

Lyon tapped his foot, his old work boot thumping loudly against the creaking planks of the dock.

"Fine, fine," Yuka snapped, throwing him a dirty look. "We should get on that. Guildarts won't be around for long, and it will be a total waste if we don't have anything to give him."

Lyon stopped tapping his foot. "Guildarts is here?"

"Yeah, he came in yesterday. Didn't we tell you? Huh, thought I did, but I guess everything was crazy with the party."

Now it was Lyon who swore loudly as he hopped onto the boat, setting it swaying under his weight. "Why didn't you say anything? Why are you wasting time pitching a fit? We need to hurry up and get a catch before he runs off again. Toby, get in here already."

Galvanized into action, all three of them scrambled to examine the rudder more closely. If nothing else could spur them on, the thought of the money they were losing every second they weren't catching anything for Guildarts would.

Guildarts was a wanderer at heart, disappearing for long periods of time before coming back to spend a few days awkwardly circling Cana, his daughter, and running off again. Over the years, he'd picked up a knack for collecting contacts wherever he went, ingratiating himself with useful personages in the surrounding cities and towns. This greatly benefited their community, because he was a trader. A bona fide merchant, even.

In a small town like theirs, there was only so much demand. Product gathered or produced had to go somewhere, and even they could only eat so many fish or wear so many clothes. Anyone with goods to export had contacts or visited markets in neighboring towns and cities, or otherwise sold to brokers who did the legwork.

But everyone knew that Guildarts was the best. He only dropped by every few months and hung around for only a few days when he did, but he offered the best prices and kept tabs to provide additional compensation on his next visit if he made a better deal than expected. Given the shrewdness—even ruthlessness—of how he conducted the rest of his business, he could afford to be generous with his hometown.

If Guildarts was here, this was the worst possible time to be dead in the water.

They hastily tested out makeshift solutions for their malfunctioning rudder—it definitely needed to be replaced when they had a spare moment, but they could make it work for a few hours—and coaxed the Lamia Scale away from the dock. To their relief, she stayed upright without taking on water and responded to their steering, if sluggishly.

They managed to pull in a modest but respectable catch, and went limping back to dock after a few hours.

"Can't believe I have to go beg Jura's help again," Yuka grumbled as they moored.

"He won't mind," Lyon said dryly. "Seeing as we'll be paying him for his trouble."

"Of course he won't mind. I mind!"

Lyon snorted and then noticed Sherry rising from the rickety bench planted alongside the wharf.

"She isn't looking so good," she said as she strolled over, casting a critical eye over the boat.

Yuka threw his hands into the air. "Everyone's a critic."

"Don't mind him," Lyon said. "He's having another tantrum. What brings you down here?"

Sherry tapped the covered basket secured around her arm. "I was hoping you might have a fresh fish for Sunday lunch tomorrow. You are coming, aren't you?"

"Ah… Of course." Lyon gestured to the heap of fish shimmering silver in the sun. "Take your pick."

Sherry looked at the fish still sitting on the deck and raised an eyebrow pointedly. The three men stared back, then started almost in unison and scrambled to haul the fish onto the dock. Maybe it was nothing more than a wives' tale that women aboard were bad luck, but fishermen were a superstitious lot by nature and it paid to be cautious. The sea was a fickle, temperamental mistress.

Sherry picked through the catch once it was safely on shore until she found a fish that satisfied her requirements.

"I expect to see you tomorrow for mass and then lunch," she said, jabbing a finger in Lyon's direction. "Bring Juvia too. I'm sure she'd like getting out again. You must keep her cooped up in that old shack. She seems to be getting along well with everyone."

Lyon, although hesitant to bring Juvia back onto a direct collision course with Sherry again, had to agree that she had seemed thrilled to get out of the house and socialize.

"If last night was any indication, she might be moving in with Lucy soon. Or Levy. I can't believe how fast they caught on."

Sherry brightened visibly. "Do you think so?"

"Ah…" Lyon cleared his throat and wished he hadn't made the joke. "Well, I guess we'll see. We'll be there."

"What about us?" Toby asked. "I want to come to lunch."

Sherry rolled her eyes and turned away to sashay back down the dock. "You all have a standing invitation, you know. Come on by."

"You, my friend, are playing with fire," Yuka said, elbowing Lyon in the ribs.

It was Lyon's turn to roll his eyes at the melodrama. "Let's just get to work so we have something for Guildarts before he disappears again."

"Wow." Lyon gave Juvia a thumbs up as she emerged from her room and gave him a questioning look. "Exactly like that. You look great. And fit for church, which is the important thing around here. Sorry, I'm sure you don't have any of this in the sea so it won't mean much to you, but it's also a social affair. Everyone gathers and talks afterwards, and I thought maybe you'd like to spend some time with them again instead of being cooped up here."

Juvia smiled and nodded. She wore the best of the dresses Sherry had sent in the beginning, along with strings of shell jewelry she had made. She had managed to twist her hair up in some kind of elaborate braided bun, and Lyon had no idea how she'd done it or what she had used to keep everything in place. As much as he liked her hair loose around her shoulders, he had to admit that the updo was elegant.

Juvia swanned after him, tugging playfully at the collar of his button-down as she slipped past and out the door. You clean up nice yourself.

Lyon snorted. He had exactly one outfit dressy enough for special occasions, and it was nothing fancy. Actually, it was a little too tight across the shoulders and fraying at the cuffs, but he didn't want to pay for another and waved off Sherry's charity. He didn't see the point when he worked most hours and needed sturdy, practical clothing. Maybe he should finally look into investing in a new set of dress clothes.

He tried to restrain himself from spewing nervous rambling and advice like he'd done before Sherry's party. Nothing terrible had happened when Juvia mixed with the townsfolk before, and although the thought still made him a little queasy, he figured the worst of the perceived threat had passed. Juvia had done a great job, and it seemed like everyone she'd met had accepted her easily enough.

Instead, Lyon explained some of the basics of mass as they walked to town. He was a little rusty himself and the order of things didn't come as easily as it once had, but he could sketch a basic outline and knew the rest would start coming back to him once he was thrown into the midst of a service. Unfortunately, Juvia wouldn't have that wellspring of past experience to fall back on, and that redirected Lyon's worry once more. In a religious town like theirs, it would be noticed if Juvia didn't know how to act in church and could draw whispers. Maybe, he thought hopefully, they'd just assume that the church she came from did things differently.

But once his anxiety flared up, there was nothing for it. He talked faster. Juvia kept shooting him bemused looks, and he could only hope she was following along.

They arrived fully half an hour before mass, as was standard. Pre-mass socialization was not quite as highly valued as post-mass socialization, but it remained an important community staple. Also, it wasn't worth the risk of running late. Everyone noticed if you snuck into mass late.

"Everyone likes to gather out front before mass," Lyon explained as he led Juvia through the streets. Across the way, Mira and her siblings strolled in the direction of the church, laughing together and dressed in their Sunday best. "We left plenty of space around the church. I mean, not just for the chatting, but sometimes there are other events going on outside."

Juvia nodded, but Lyon got the feeling that her attention had started to wander. His own fault for dumping a bunch of information on her at once.

He was still deciding whether there was any last-minute advice worth giving when they turned the corner and saw Lucy. She had curled up on one of the wooden benches between the bakery and grocery shop and was sobbing as if someone had ripped her heart out. Sherry crouched in front of her, talking quietly.

"Oh boy," Lyon muttered, hurrying over. If he had three guesses, they would all involve Lucy's overbearing father somehow. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Lucy kept her face buried in her hands and didn't acknowledge him.

"It's her father," Sherry said, her face drawn tight with concern. "He burned her book."

Lyon said something that had even Juvia raising her eyebrows at him.

"Language," Sherry said, but her heart wasn't in it.

"I'm just saying–"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Can you go find Levy? Or that bonehead Natsu?"

Lyon took one last look at Lucy and hurried off in the direction of the church. He couldn't deal with crying anyway. Sherry could handle it until someone more qualified showed up.

Luckily, he spotted both Levy and Natsu loitering outside the church. He sidled up beside Levy first, cautious because she was talking to Gajeel and Lyon didn't want him involved.

"Hey, Levy," he said.

She smiled at him. "Good morning. Nice to see you for once."

"Um, yeah." He cast a sidelong look at Gajeel. "Listen, I saw Lucy on the way over and she was looking for you."

"Then why wouldn't she come here?" Gajeel grunted. "This is where everyone is."

"It seemed like, ah, girl stuff."

Gajeel pulled a face. "I don't wanna know."

Levy just rolled her eyes. "Forget him," she said to Lyon. "Where did you say she was?"

Lyon led her back the way he'd come, stopping to pull Natsu away from his conversation with Guildarts along the way.

"Why me?" Natsu whined, traipsing along behind. "The old man is almost never in town. I still want to–"

"Lucy's pretty upset," Lyon said as he hurried back down the street. "She wasn't really talking to me, but Sherry said her dad burned her notebook."

"Oh," said Levy, a stricken expression crossing her face. "Oh, that's awful."

"Geez, why didn't you just say so?" Natsu growled, pushing past him.

Lyon scowled at his back, but kept his mouth shut and directed them ahead.

When they rounded the corner and rushed over to Lucy, she wasn't sobbing into her hands anymore. She was babbling to Juvia, who had sat on the bench beside her and was nodding along solemnly. Sherry watched them with eyebrows slightly raised. When she spotted Lyon and the others approaching, she shrugged.

"How could he?" Lucy dropped her face to hide it in the crook of Juvia's neck, and Juvia patted her back sympathetically. "He knows how much it means to me. He's such a hateful man."

She wasn't sobbing anymore, at least. Lyon could see her shaking from here, but the faucets in her eyes had slowed to a trickle.

"What happened?" Levy asked, sitting on Lucy's other side. Natsu followed on her heels to hover around the bench awkwardly.

Lucy pulled away from Juvia and gave her a fleeting, wobbly smile before swiping the back of her hand across her eyes and turning to Levy.

"My dad burned my book," she said. Her voice wavered and her eyes glistened, but she tilted her chin up and her jaw had a stubborn set to it. The look of a girl who wanted to sob but felt she had already cried too much. "He said I was wasting my time and needed to grow up."

"Your father," said Natsu, "is an asshole."

"He never could just love me. And I'm about to give up trying to make him. I just know he still blames me for Mom leaving."

"You shouldn't listen to him," Natsu said fiercely. "He never bothered caring about anyone but himself. Only an idiot wouldn't love you." He paused and turned an alarming shade of red. "I mean, uh…"

Lucy snorted and scrubbed at her face some more. "Thanks, Natsu."

"I think that sometimes he's afraid of losing you like he lost your mom," Levy said slowly. "He doesn't like your fascination with the sea or your writing because he's afraid it will claim you too. Sometimes he tries holding on so tight that it's suffocating and pushes you away instead. His actions are inexcusable and awful, but I think he does love you. I mean, like Natsu said: who wouldn't?"

Lucy made a skeptical sound in the back of her throat. "Well, he doesn't act like it. It's all gone. Years of work, gone just like that. I'll never be able to recreate it all. I don't…"

"Not all of it, though, right? You've filled more than one notebook, and I still have the manuscript of your novel at home, from when I was editing it. It sucks, but we can recover. Don't let him get away with it. He can't stop you from writing, and I can help you recreate some of what he ruined."

"I'll help too!" Natsu volunteered. "…Although you never really let me read most of it."

"Sorry," Lucy mumbled. "It's just kind of personal. I show you some of the finished ones."

Juvia reached over to squeeze her hand. Lucy threw her a grateful look and pasted on a brave smile.

"Anyway, we're going to be late for mass," she said. "You know how bad that would be. I'm sure things will look better after church."

Lyon, who had been hanging back awkwardly, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment he wasn't supposed to see, felt a flash of relief. Maybe the crying and emotional talks were over now. He would have snuck away from this one already if he hadn't needed to wait for Juvia, who had somehow inserted herself in the midst of the drama.

"Can't believe she calmed Lucy down like that," Sherry mumbled, watching as Lucy stood and brushed off her skirts. "Especially not over her book."

Lyon couldn't either. Lucy guarded her stories and poetry jealously. She spent so much time in her own world that perhaps it was no wonder she kept it tucked so close to her chest. Whatever passed between pen and page was highly prized. She would not take its loss easily.

"Thanks," Lucy murmured to Juvia. Juvia hugged her tight and then let her turn away to head back to the church with Natsu and Levy.

"Well." Lyon shuffled his feet, and Juvia and Sherry looked at him expectantly. "Thanks for helping with Lucy. You guys seem to get on well." Juvia nodded and cast a look after Lucy, her mouth pinched in a slantwise frown. "We should go."

"Yes," Sherry said. "We'll be late if we don't hurry."

She looped her arm through Lyon's, ignoring his squirming. When Juvia's face lit up and she tried sidling behind them to get at Lyon's other side, Sherry smiled a wolf's smile and caught her as she went past. She looped her free arm through the crook of Juvia's.

"I'm sure we'll be the best of friends," she said brightly. "If even Lucy likes you, I suppose I must as well."

Lyon stifled a laugh. Oh, Sherry.

They slid into the pews just before mass started, joining Sherry's parents and Chelia in their customary spot towards the center of the small church. Wendy used to always sit with them as well, but eventually she'd been banished back to her own family. She and Chelia made a disruptive pair, even if Chelia was the more boisterous of the two.

Sherry managed to wedge herself in the pew without giving Lyon a chance to rearrange their order, so he could only hope for the best. It would be too difficult to try giving Juvia cues over Sherry's head.

Even aside from worrying about Juvia, the mass was painful. He stumbled over words in the Creed, couldn't find the proper pitch in the psalms, said Amen too loudly into the silence when the priest hadn't finished speaking, and sat down too early when he was supposed to kneel. He hoped these missteps weren't as glaringly obvious as they felt, but occasionally he caught Sherry throwing amused looks his way.

Lyon didn't feel amused, and it wasn't because of his clumsiness. There had been a time when he had felt power and awe thrumming through this building, long ago when he sat tucked at his mother's side and stared up at the altar with wide eyes. Even as he grew older and the strength of the feeling faded to something more staid and even-keeled, he had kept the faith. Now he just felt disconnected and empty, somehow apart from his friends gathered around and the God he was supposed to be worshipping.

He wondered when that had started. After his mother's death, perhaps? Or after Gray left? He had prayed for Gray's safety and return afterwards, but he couldn't remember if those prayers had already become hollow by then. Maybe that was why nothing had ever come of them.

He went through the motions—clumsy though they might be—and felt his attention drifting. He shied away from Ur and Gray, and instead considered the practical minutiae of life: how to approach the situation with Sherry, when Juvia might be healed enough to return to sea, how to convince Yuka to talk about the fate of the Lamia Scale.

The disconnect persisted throughout mass until just before Communion, when they all grasped hands to pray the Our Father. For the short duration of the prayer, with everyone's voices blending together and Sherry giving him a sidelong smile while she held his hand tight, he felt part of something bigger. He could feel the tingle of building static charge in the air, something a little like magic.

And then they all broke apart, and he snapped back to reality. There were the faintest traces of a fading spark when they all shook hands and murmured 'peace be with you', trading smiles and an under-the-breath comment or two with friends and family. The last remnants of Lyon's serenity faded to ash when Bisca, whose family had settled in the pew in front of them, busied herself shaking hands with everyone else around her so that she didn't have to catch his eye and obligate herself to give him the sign of peace as well. It could have been nothing, except that she had been giving him those weird looks at Sherry's party too. He couldn't imagine what he'd done to offend her. Alzack shook his hand with a benign smile and Asuka practically bounced up and down as she shoved her tiny hand into his, so whatever the issue was seemed to be just with Bisca.

Sherry grudgingly leaned back enough to let Lyon shake Juvia's hand, and Juvia gave him a fleeting smile before she went back to staring at the wall. Lyon watched her from the corner of his eye and noted that her gaze wandered around the church while the priest chanted and the congregation dutifully recited their lines. That might have been accepted, if not approved of, except that her expression could only be read as unutterably bored with an edge of impatience. That would not be well-received if noticed. It was an expression Lyon had never seen on her face before—he was more accustomed to her wide-eyed curiosity and quick smile.

The mass dragged on forever, but finally they sang the closing hymn and escaped into the sunlight for a few minutes of socializing before everyone began drifting away to prepare lunch or family activities. Sherry, followed by Lyon and Juvia, broke away from her family to track down Lucy and check on her. It seemed Lucy had chosen to spend mass with Natsu and his mother rather than with her own father, which was probably just as well.

"I'm okay," she said when they asked, although her smile wobbled and she was clearly putting on a brave face. "Levy will help me rewrite it. She's seen most of it."

Lyon exchanged a look with Natsu, who shrugged and looked grim. There was more at stake than a few lost poems. Lyon couldn't claim to understand the inner workings of Lucy's relationship with her father, but he'd always gotten the impression that it wasn't pretty. He didn't know if Levy was right that her father did care and was just holding on too tight, but Lyon could have told him that his tactics wouldn't work. Hurting the people you loved would only push them farther away, no matter your intentions. And once there was enough distance, it was awful hard to get them back no matter how profuse the apologies.

There was little they could do if Lucy didn't want their help, so they retreated after Juvia and Lucy had one last silent conversation with their eyes. A magic trick, that. Lyon had never been that good at reading expressions.

"I'm sure she'll be alright, even if it takes a while," Sherry said as they strolled back down the street towards her house. "Don't you think, Juvia?"

Juvia nodded emphatically.

Sherry eyed her sidelong. "I couldn't help but notice that you didn't seem impressed with our service. Do you have a fancier church where you're from? Are you from one of the cities, maybe? They're supposed to have more impressive buildings."

Juvia hesitated, casting a quick look in Lyon's direction, and then smiled sheepishly. She turned her palms up in apology, although Sherry's questions themselves went unanswered.

"I guess I can't blame you," Sherry said. "I'm sure you're used to grander things."

Lyon couldn't tell if that was Sherry's actual assumption or she had guessed that Juvia was not at all interested in their religious activities. He hoped the former. The townsfolk were kind enough, but they had a hard time understanding a lack of religious fervor. It was something tied tightly to their bones, and they eyed those who didn't follow the same creed with suspicion, even while treating them with reserved politeness. And since Juvia was an outsider, she was already suspect. Although she seemed to be winning over most of the town with her charm.

"She didn't mean anything by it," Lyon said.

"Of course not," Sherry murmured, giving them both an appraising glance.

She led them back to her family's home, which was already loud with laughter and chatter. Yuka and Toby had beaten them there. Toby had smuggled in his pet and her pups, and Chelia and Wendy squealed with delight and played tug of war with a pair of old slippers. It seemed like the dogs were winning and the slippers would be going to their slobbery grave after lunch.

"I trust you can help entertain the kids or keep the boys out of trouble while I help my mother," Sherry said to Lyon. She smiled at Juvia sweetly. "Juvia, would you like to join us in the kitchen? I'd love your opinion on the sauce."

Juvia nodded good-naturedly and disappeared into the kitchen along with Sherry. Either Sherry was trying to scope out the competition or keep Juvia away from him. Probably both.

Sherry's father was ejected a moment later, with the admonishment that the kitchen was far too crowded.

He was a nice enough man, boisterous and good-natured. He had lent Lyon a helping hand several times over the years, particularly after Ur had died and Gray had left. Although Lyon prided himself on being largely self-sufficient, it was always reassuring to have backup when he needed it.

Sherry's father clapped Lyon on the back. "Look who it is! About time you dropped by again, Lyon. It's been a while, hasn't it? What have you been up to? Has the roof been holding up?"

"The roof is fine," Lyon said, relaxing slightly. "Thanks again for your help on that. It's survived a few storms intact now."

"As long as you remember to maintain it! Let me know if you need help inspecting it."

"I think it will be okay for at least a few more months. But what you could help me with is convincing Yuka to make a decision on purchasing a new boat or overhauling the Lamia Scale."

Yuka looked up from the puppy he was scratching behind the ears. "Will you never give that a rest?" he asked, aggrieved.

"Not until you make a decision or at least discuss it with us. It's kind of an important thing to figure out, and we've already put it off for too long."

"It's Sunday! Let's at least wait until after the Sabbath."

Lyon leveled him with a flat look. "Will you actually be willing to discuss it if we wait until after the Sabbath?"

"At least wait to bother me about it again until after the Sabbath."

Lyon heaved a long-suffering sigh. There was still no help to be had from Toby's quarter: he was distracted with the dogs and kids even if he might be inclined to take a stand on the matter, which he didn't seem interested in doing at the best of times.

Sherry's father only laughed heartily. "Business is best not conducted on the Sabbath. Enjoy your day of rest with us and tackle your problems tomorrow." Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "But press the point during the week. He is a good boy, but stubborn and inclined to ignore problems he doesn't want to deal with, yes?"

Lyon cracked a smile. "Yes."

"Then help him deal with the problem. But tomorrow."

Accepting that the only thing he was likely to accomplish by pressing the point today was a very awkward lunch, Lyon resolved to drop the subject for now but circle back to it next week. Yuka might not be ready to talk about it, but it had to happen sooner rather than later.

For now, he contented himself with entertaining Chelia and Wendy, snarking at Yuka and Toby, and discussing weather patterns and house repairs with Sherry's father.

After another twenty minutes and a great deal of clattering pots and pans, Sherry emerged from the kitchen with her mother and Juvia, bearing plates of fish and vegetables and bread. Everyone scrambled for the table, eager to say grace and dig in.

Sherry maneuvered Juvia to sit between the girls, who still regarded her with wide-eyed fascination approaching awe and pelted her with questions and copious amounts of information about themselves. They and Sherry seemed satisfied with the arrangement, and Juvia smiled politely while shooting Lyon pleading looks.

They passed around the food and chatted about their respective lines of work and family news. Lyon fielded more questions about Juvia, who was gracious in participating with her own brand of charade-like communication.

"This is nice," Lyon murmured, looking around the table at all the laughing faces.

He had grown accustomed to living alone since the loss of Ur and Gray, and he liked it that way, for the most part. He liked having some space and independence and the option to retreat when he'd reached his limit on social interaction. But maybe, somewhere along the way, he had forgotten exactly how nice it was to be part of a family. Maybe he had forgotten the warmth of family dinners around the table and the sound of laughter floating through the house.

Or maybe those were things he had deliberately pushed out of mind after his family had broken apart. Maybe it was easier that way.

"You know that you're always welcome here," Sherry said quietly. "And someday… Well, you know. I'd like to build a family with you too."

"Yeah," Lyon said with a faint half-smile. "I guess family doesn't seem so bad."

He eyed Juvia thoughtfully across the table as she teased Chelia and Wendy with elaborate hand gestures. Maybe she had reminded him of some of those things. The house felt more alive with her inside, and he worried that it would be colder than ever once she left. He hadn't realized exactly how empty it was until she had come and filled it with her good cheer and sly wit. Even her longing for the sea had a weight to it that filled the space.

"You've grown really attached to her, haven't you?" Sherry asked.

Lyon stiffened and shot her a sidelong look. She sounded more resigned than accusatory, but it still set him on edge.

"She's nice enough," he said a touch defensively. "She'll be leaving as soon as her ankle is healed."

"So you keep saying," Sherry muttered. Then she sighed and lowered her voice further. "Just be careful, Lyon."

"Careful of what?"

"How much do you really know about her?"

"More than you do."

"Undoubtedly. Just… There's something a little odd about her, with how easily she's charmed everyone and how mysterious she is. Maybe it's nothing, but just be cautious."

"Are you sure it's not just your jealousy talking?" Lyon snapped. Sherry's eyes went wide as if he'd slapped her, and he regretted his harsh words.

They stared at each other, still smarting as the surrounding conversations washed over them like waves. Finally, Lyon sighed and rubbed at his eyes wearily.

"Sorry," he said. "That wasn't fair of me. Just… Why won't you believe me when I say I'm not falling in love with her?"

Sherry looked down at her plate and pushed her food around halfheartedly. "I don't know," she said so softly he had to strain to hear. "It seems like there's a…spark. Something in the way she looks at you. Something in how you talk to her. Call me selfish, but I don't want to lose you."

Lyon deflated with another sigh. "You won't lose me, Sherry."

"I hope not."

There was nothing to say to that, so they lapsed into silence as they poked at their food and listened to everyone else's conversations. Juvia must have noticed, because she kept shooting them considering looks.

They made it through the remainder of lunch, and Lyon was just gathering Juvia up and saying their goodbyes when Sherry roused herself again.

"Oh," she said, slipping her hand into the pocket of her dress. "Before you go, I have something for you. I ran into Mira and she gave it to me."

She produced a letter and handed it to him. Lyon's heart stuttered and thumped as he saw his name printed in familiar neat letters.

He knew he should wait until he was alone, but he couldn't stop himself from ripping the envelope open and skimming the letter. His gaze snagged on a point near the end and stuck there. He gaped at the words written there, his heart tap dancing merrily along his ribcage as hope and disbelief started up a fierce tug-of-war in his chest.

"Is it good news?" Sherry asked anxiously.

"It's Gray," Lyon said, stunned. "He's coming home."