Becca meets Dr. Langdon on the Fourth of July and decides that he seems very kind.

She doesn’t know him, but as her doctor, she decides that she’ll give him a nice review when prompted by the hospital’s messaging system via text message a few days later. Five out of five stars, easily. The only doctor she would rate above him is her sister, but Mel isn’t assigned as her doctor, being family, so she can’t do that.

He’s calm, makes sure she feels comfortable, and even dims the lights when she becomes overwhelmed. Her finger, after being sliced by a pair of scissors she handled none too carefully, is sutured with steady hands, and he makes sure to explain each step he’s taking before doing so. She can’t help but notice how nice he is to Mel, too.

It’s later, when she meets him no longer as Dr. Langdon, but instead introduced to her as Frank, she decides she’s unsure.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight, right?” Mel asks as they pile into her car, an old RAV4 they call Robin, that Becca’s told her time and time again needs to be replaced before they end up having to travel by foot. Mel’s committed to keeping it for as long as she possibly can, apparently.

“Yes,” Becca nods, reaching over to buckle her seatbelt. She adjusts it so it isn’t settled uncomfortably around her neck and then reaches for her bag in search of her phone. “Pizza, right?”

Mel turns the key over, and with a low rumble and a few other unsettling noises, it roars to life. Even though she’s fairly certain its human equivalent would be given a poor prognosis, Mel- the doctor- doesn’t agree.

“Right,” Mel says, stilted. Becca wonders if there was more to be said but doesn’t ask, instead figuring she’ll share when she’s ready. Finally finding her phone, she pulls it out, bringing up her chat with Danielle, her friend from the care center she attends.

“Danielle says hi,” she tells Mel.

“Tell her I said hello,” Mel answers, pulling away from her parking space and into the city’s evening traffic. As she drives, she taps a finger on the steering wheel, fiddling with the radio’s volume when she’s not.

“Mel, are you okay? You seem weird.”

“Weird?” Mel repeats.

“Yes. You’re acting strange.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and Becca thinks that’s that, turning back to the minigame Danielle sent her until Mel speaks, louder than necessary and her words clunky, as though rehearsed, “Is it okay if I invite a friend?”

“A friend?”

“Yes. You know them, actually.” Then, as they come to a stop at an intersection, her words even more stilted, “Him. You met him once.”

Becca frowns. It’s always just the two of them. They either go to dinner or pick up takeout, go home, and watch a movie. Inviting someone else changes that, the routine they’ve established.

“It’s always just you and me,” she reasons. “I don’t think I like that idea, Mel. I’m sorry.”

“Oh- yeah, okay. That’s fine, he’ll understand. I can always, um-”

Then it occurs to her what Mel’s said, and she’s asking in a shrill voice, “Wait, *him? As in, a man?” *

“Yes, a man,” Mel laughs. There’s a grin on her face when she amends, “He’s my friend, Becca. He’s great, but I know I sprung it on you kind of last minute, so I understand if you don’t want him to come.”

“Okay.”

Becca considers Mel’s words. It’s their weekly routine, and she isn’t so sure she’ll like a third person being there, especially if it’s someone Mel already knows well. What if she ends up being a third wheel? But Mel rarely, if ever, mentions having friends, hanging out with people aside from Becca much less. It isn’t like she has a ton of free time with the amount of work she does, but still.

If she’s inviting her friend to dinner and wants introduce him to Becca, this seems to mean something to Mel.

After a few minutes of silence, Becca reaches for the volume, turning the radio down as they slowly move closer to the restaurant; Gino’s, a family-owned pizza place that they frequent, whether in person or by takeout, sometimes delivery if Mel decides to splurge (or if they’re being particularly lazy).

“I’ve made a decision,” she announces. Mel turns her head in Becca’s direction slightly, trying to keep her eyes on the road, but her eyebrows raise as she waits.

“What is it?”

“You did ask last minute, and it is our weekly tradition,” Becca starts, putting her phone down to look at Mel, “but your friend can come. It seems important to you.”

Mel beams, grinning from ear to ear as she reaches for Becca’s hand, allowing Becca to put hers on top at her own pace. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly as Mel squeezes her fingers, letting out a little squeal in excitement.

“Thank you,” she says, and Mel’s not good at driving when she looks away from the road even if it’s only for a moment, so she puts both hands back on the wheel and faces forward again. “Thank you, seriously. You’re the best, Bec. He- It is important to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Becca shrugs. “It’s easy to say yes when you’re the best.”

When stopped at a particularly long light, Mel asks Becca to unlock her phone and once she does, Mel uses voice text to send a message to her friend, telling him what time and where to meet them.

They arrive before Mel’s friend, of course, even with the amount of time it takes to find a parking spot to Mel’s liking. They end up several blocks away, but the weather is nice for a late October evening, so she doesn’t mind.

The restaurant is reasonably packed, soft murmurs of conversation carrying through the space, but it’s not enough to feel stifling the way larger restaurants often do, and the hostess seats them at a booth in the far corner. Its leather is cracked in a few places, the table stained a dark wood. They’ve sat at this table before and have declared it their favorite as it gives them the perfect view for people watching.

When the waitress stops to ask what drinks they would like, Mel orders a third.

“Won’t his drink be watered down?” Becca asks.

“No,” she says, shaking her head as she eases the straw into her own drink. “He’s just looking for a place to park, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Curious, Becca prompts, “You never told me his name, you know.”

“His name is Frank.”

Her sister isn’t paying attention, typing something on her phone, so she misses the way Becca’s nose wrinkles.

“What kind of name is that?”

Mel huffs a laugh, looking up in surprise. Her mouth opens, surprised, then closes, pressed into a thin line. Becca stifles a giggle, taking a sip of the sweet tea in front of her.

“Hey. Be nice, please.” A text makes her phone vibrate, and she’s nervously tapping her fingers against the table when she announces, “He’s here.”

Mel’s standing a few moments later, waving as if to grab someone’s attention. Becca turns to find a man walking towards them, his dark hair ruffled either from the wind or running his fingers through it one too many times. It wasn’t particularly windy earlier, so she would bet the latter. Squinting to get a better look at him, she finds that it’s none other than the doctor who stitched her finger after July’s scissor fiasco, as she and her friend Danielle like to call it.

“Dr. Langdon?” Becca asks, at the same time Mel brightly says, “Frank, hi.”

He approaches their table, reaching to give Mel what Becca can only describe as a side hug, his arm squeezing her shoulders before letting go. When they sit, it’s with Dr. Langdon- Frank- sat next to Mel, taking the outside edge of the booth.

“I know you’ve met once but Frank, this is my sister, Becca. Becca, this is Frank.”

He smiles, and when Becca holds out her hand, reaches to shake it, though briefly due to her own preference.

“It’s nice to see you again. No more scissor incidents?” he asks, and when he notices the Pepsi already waiting for him, shoots Mel a grin.

She shakes her head. “I’m extra careful now, Dr. Langdon.”

“You can call me by my first name, you know.”

“Right,” she agrees. “Maybe we can work up to it?”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, leaning back against the booth.

Mel smiles at him, then at her. Becca thinks she looks like a little kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement as they converse. He’s funny, and pays attention to what she says in a way most people wouldn’t. Mel thinks he’s funny, too, if the way she laughs at his jokes is any indication. Becca thinks Mel laughs at some things he says that aren’t funny, though. Then again, he laughs at Mel’s unfunny jokes, too. Maybe they’re just weird.

As always, the pizza is good, and when they reach the final piece, Becca’s already decided she’s done, using her crumpled napkin to wipe any remnants of grease or pizza sauce away from her face and hands.

“You can have it,” Mel tells him, gesturing to the remaining slice.

“No, you should have it if you want it,” he returns, nudging her arm with his elbow. Becca merely watches them, using her straw to stir what little bit of tea is left in her glass.

“Wanna split it?”

“I’d be honored.” He cuts the slice somewhat down the middle, telling Mel, “You can have the piece with more crust, I know it’s your favorite.”

“How do you-”

“They ordered pizza when Gloria was on that whole spiel about appreciating our hard work last month and you practically inhaled the crust I didn’t eat, Mel.”

Becca smiles, interrupting with, “Mel’s a certified crust thief, she has been since we were kids.”

Frank thanks her for having his back and shoves one half onto Mel’s plate, telling her that he’ll just have to feed her by hand if she tries to argue about it.

When they finish, he insists on taking care of the check. Mel argues, but he wins in the end, and after he’s walked them to their car and they’re on their way home, Becca tells her, “He seems nice.”

She means it, too. Becca’s glad that Mel has a friend, someone who makes her days at work more tolerable, who can make her smile.

“Yeah,” Mel agrees, and Becca looks over to find a dazed expression on her face. “He’s pretty great.”

Becca could agree with that, and probably would, except after they go out for dinner that night, she finds that suddenly, he’s* everywhere. *

During movie night each week, Mel’s regularly on her phone, grinning at the screen as she types, texting someone. News flash, it’s always Frank.

“Let me guess,” Becca sighs, reaching over to pause the movie. “You’re texting Dr. Langdon.”

Mel doesn’t immediately respond, causing Becca to frown. It’s when she clears her throat that Mel looks up, face flushed in the low light.

“Oh, sorry. He was just telling me about something that happened with one of his kids today. I’m done, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Then, her phone buzzes again, and Mel at least manages to look a little sheepish. “I’ll tell him we’re busy, he’ll understand.”

Mel manages to look at least somewhat present for the rest of the movie, and then since it’s not too late, she suggests they play Overcooked for a little while, their favorite of the games they have on hand. They attempt to not yell at each other while they play, and when they’re done, she begins her bedtime routine.

It’s as she’s brushing her teeth that she hears Mel’s footsteps coming up the stairs, then the murmurings of a conversation, and before Becca closes her bedroom door, she can faintly hear Mel tell the other person, “I missed you today.”

Straining to hear the voice on the other end of the phone, speaker being Mel’s preference, she hears Dr. Langdon’s gentle, “I missed you, too,” and decides that’s enough for the night.

He continues to barge in on aspects of the King sisters’ life with an open invitation, and Becca can’t say she’s all that pleased. She doesn’t dislike him, in fact the opposite, but having another person around after being so used to it only being her and Mel is a foreign concept to her.

He begins picking them up some mornings, his SUV a sleek blue that Becca likes, but she isn’t a fan of the carseats or the amount of crumbs that litter the backseat she has to sit in.

“Good morning,” he says, as the two of them get situated. Mel’s up front with him, and he takes her backpack and shifts to place it in the floorboard behind the center console so she has plenty of room. “Becca, nice to see you as always.”

“Likewise.”

He and Mel begin to talk about some medical podcast they like, and when they go to put it on, Becca slips her headphones over her ears and hits play on her most recent playlist.

When they reach the center, she climbs out of the car, waiting for Mel to follow so she can walk her in. They match each other’s steps as they navigate the sidewalk and bid each other goodbye inside, near the front entrance, as they do each morning.

It’s easy, in that moment, for Becca to forget the ways in which their lives are changing.

The first time Frank comes over, it’s movie night, and Becca’s settling in on the couch with their usual bowl of popcorn, extra butter. Mel’s in the kitchen, grabbing their drinks and other snacks when there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Becca says, setting the bowl aside to stand up.

“No, I can-”

She turns the knob to reveal Frank on the other side, a white plastic bag in one of his hands.

“Dr. Langdon, hi.”

“Becca,” he nods, nudging the bag in her direction with a smile. “If you’re insistent on calling me that, should I call you Ms. King instead? Make it equal?”

She frowns, taking the bag from him, with a polite, “Thank you.” Then, as he steps over the threshold, she insists, “Shoes off, please. Also, no, that would be weird. People call you Dr. Langdon all day, but no one calls me that.”

“Good point,” he nods, toeing off his shoes and placing them on the rack by the door. “I brought, uh, some snacks and whatnot. I didn’t know what you liked, but I know what Mel likes, so I tried to get that and then some.”

“That’s nice,” she smiles and looks down in the bag to find an assortment of chocolate and sour candy, Mel’s favorite, which is coincidentally hers as well. “Oh, sour straws are my favorite. Thank you.”

“You brought snacks?” Mel asks, coming into the room. She sets the drinks in her hand down and pads over to them, already smiling. Becca tilts the bag for her inspection, and she looks up from it, beaming. “Oh, you’re the best,” she tells him, leaning up to give him a brief hug. Becca watches them, the way his hands tighten around her waist, his face nuzzling against her shoulder.

She averts her gaze, feeling somewhat like an intruder, and heads back to the couch to take a seat before one of them gets the spot she wants. When they join her, Mel ends up on the middle cushion, Frank on the other side. The way they gravitate towards each other throughout the movie doesn’t escape her notice.

She glances over halfway through to find the two of them sharing the oversized throw Mel was using, her sister fast asleep with her head lolled against his shoulder.

“She falls asleep every time,” Becca says, adjusting the blanket so it covers Mel more. The living room gets drafty sometimes, and she knows how Mel is about staying warm while sleeping.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down at Mel and reaching up with the opposite hand to brush her hair out of her face, smiling gently. “I don’t think she gets as much sleep as she should. Too busy looking out for everyone else.”

“She’s been that way for a long time.” Becca picks at a piece of popcorn, dropping it back into the nearly empty bowl on her lap. “I think it started when Mom got sick. It wasn’t long between when she first got sick and when she passed, so. Things changed, and Mel had to take on a lot of responsibility. I don’t think she knows that I know that, but I do.”

He hums, nodding in agreement, “Sounds like Mel.”

Becca goes to turn back to the movie, but stops, instead telling him, “I know you’re just her friend, Dr. Langdon, but please don’t hurt her.”

Frank blinks. He doesn’t say anything in response, not at first, but then he’s looking over at her, assuring her with a soft, “I would never hurt her. Not intentionally. She’s-” he huffs a laugh, and Becca can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the unexpected depth of the conversation. “She’s important to me, Becca. I think you will be, too, if that’s okay.”

“Okay,” Becca says with a nod, thankful to be able to focus on the movie again as she declares, “I’m still not calling you Frank, though.”

“I guess beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

“Nope.”

He takes them to dinner some nights, attempting to show them new restaurants he thinks they’ll like. On his and Mel’s shared days off, of which there are somehow plenty, they go to the park. That’s where Becca meets his kids for the first time, introduced to her as Tanner and Ava, both sharing the same dark hair as him. Though cute, Becca finds that they are a little wild. Kids will be kids, though, she supposes.

They cling to Mel’s legs, telling her how much they missed her, and Mel’s a little flushed as she pats their heads, unable to return their hugs due to the awkward positioning.

“Mel missed you too, don’t worry,” Frank tells them, crouching to their level as he attempts to unlatch them from her. “God, you guys are like little leeches. Let’s give her some room, okay?”

They finally detach from her, and Mel looks over at Becca, smiling. “I hope this is okay,” she tells her.

“It’s okay, Mel.”

“Pinky promise?” Mel holds up her pinky finger, and Becca takes the offer, wrapping her own around Mel’s.

“Pinky promise.”

Becca finds that her least favorite part in the development of Frank’s takeover thus far is when he begins staying the night.

It isn’t planned at first.

Mel invited him to game night, and though he’s a good sport for the first round of Monopoly, even playing the role of the banker, he taps out about halfway through the second.

“See, Mel, he can’t even finish two rounds of the game without quitting,” she exclaims, moving her battleship figure the designated number of spaces.

Frank feigns offense at that, placing a hand on his chest. “You wound me, Becca. Seriously, a guy comes to game night for the first time and can’t take a break without getting attacked?”

“I’m team Switzerland,” Mel shrugs, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

Frank pokes her side affectionately.

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“I am,” Mel insists, leaning over the board to move her own piece. “I can’t pick between my sister and my- you,” she amends, and Becca frowns, not clear on why she didn’t finish the phrase she began.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment, Mel. You’re always on my side.”

Frank leans into Mel’s space, pouting, but she doesn’t back away, merely ruffling his hair in response. They’re both grinning at each other, laughing, and Becca smiles. Mel doesn’t let loose like this very often.

“I’m on both of your sides,” Mel settles on.

“Except you’re on my side a little bit more, right?” he asks, and Becca shakes her head.

“There’s no way that’s the case when the other person is me.”

He grins at Becca’s remark and insists he’s still in the game, taking his next turn, and Becca ramps up her jeering at him, insistent upon making him her bitch by the end of the game.

Except he’s out cold, snoring with his head in Mel’s lap way before the game ends.

She scoffs. “He really can’t hang.”

“I guess not,” Mel muses, carding her fingers through his hair. She looks down at him with a strange look, one Becca’s never seen on Mel. “I don’t mind, though. He showed up.”

“He always does,” Becca says, only somewhat snidely, but Mel doesn’t notice, content to watch him still. Then it dawns on her. “Oh my* God.” *

*“*Everything okay?”

“Mel, you like him,” she exclaims, louder than she probably should, and Mel looks up, quickly telling her to quiet down. “How did I not see it before?”

Stiffly, Mel responds, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want him to kiss you.”

“He’s my friend, Becca. I don’t- Please stop. He could hear you.”

“Okay, fine. I will,” Becca relents, “For now.” As she stands from the floor, she pokes fun at him with, “Also, with that snoring? No way.”

Mel stifles a laugh against the hand that isn’t preoccupied with Frank’s hair, and Becca grabs her Switch, heading to her room. As she climbs the stairs, she hears Mel trying to wake him.

“Frank,” she tries his name.

Becca hears a quiet, “Hm?”

“Wake up,” Mel tells him, “You can’t sleep on the floor all night, it’s bad for your back.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, but argues groggily, “You’re a comfortable pillow, though.”

Becca shakes her head, out of earshot by the time Mel responds.

The next morning, she comes downstairs to find him sprawled across their couch, Mel’s favorite throw blanket halfway covering him, his arm dangling over the edge of the cushion. Mel’s already awake, sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a book in hand.

She looks up as one of the stairs creaks and whispers, “Sorry,” her head gesturing towards Frank. “I’ll wake him up soon.”

Though Becca could be annoyed at the disruption, the fact that she usually sits on the couch and watches TV until she decides she’s ready for breakfast, she shrugs. Grabbing the remote and a spare blanket, she sits on the floor next to Mel, her legs crossed beneath her.

“It’s okay, we can watch TV from down here until he decides to join the land of the living.” Mel snorts, and as Becca offers to share the blanket, she sets her book aside, sliding under the fuzzy material and wrapping a familiar arm around Becca. “Can we watch Love Island?”

“Nothing like mind-numbing TV to get the day started,” Mel reasons. “Let’s do it.”

They’re halfway through the episode when Frank begins to stir, waking with a raspy, “Mel?”

“I’m right here,” she tells him, turning to place a hand on his arm. His eyes are only half open, squinting against the light that filters through the blinds in the front window. Becca has half the mind to laugh at the way his hair is sticking up on one side of his head, the other matted down from the pillow he’s laying on. “You can go back to sleep if you want. You don’t have to get the kids for another few hours.”

“Hm, yeah,” he says, muffled against the pillow beneath his head. “I’m gonna get up, I don’t wanna be in your way.”

“You’re not in the way, I promise.”

Becca tilts her head to one side, considering. “I mean, you kind of-”

Mel whips around to face her, an amused smile on her face as she insists, “He’s not in the way.”

“He kind of is,” she shrugs, standing to go to the kitchen so she can see what cereal they have. She’s partial to Cap’n Crunch, but she wouldn’t mind Fruity Pebbles, either. They usually have one of the two, at her insistence, though Mel enjoys them as well. Becca thinks the doctor in her just won’t allow her to admit it.

As she goes, she hears him say, “See? I am in the way,” still teetering in that space halfway between sleep and being fully conscious.

“You’re not in the way,” Mel tells him, emphatic, as she pulls the blanket over his shoulders, adjusting it so he’s comfortable. Becca rolls her eyes, recalling the conversation she and Mel had last night. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you in a little bit.”

Becca begins noticing, after that, the way in which Mel gravitates towards Frank when he’s around. She’s never far, usually staying within arm’s reach of him, and never one to shy away from his hand on her shoulder, or the brief kisses he’ll press to the top of her head when she’s leaning into him during movie nights, fatigue wearing on her in the late evenings.

It’s not unusual for him to spend the night after that, much to Becca’s chagrin. On those days, she and Mel move their early mornings to the floor in front of the couch, his snoring apparent even with the TV playing the baby animal docuseries they frequently watch. Mel wakes him when he oversleeps, sometimes with a hand to his arm, and other times brushing a thumb over the curve of his jaw, always saying his name in a gentle tone so as not to startle him.

“You guys are gross,” Becca remarks one morning, spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth.

“I’m- No? How are we gross?” Mel asks. Her voice takes on a shrill edge, her eyebrows furrowed in response.

“It’s just kind of sickeningly sweet, that’s all. You’re so gone for him.” “Who’s gone for what?” He asks then, finally responsive, and Becca snickers. Mouth too full to speak, she merely listens as Mel tells him he must have misheard.

It’s easy for Becca to be ignorant to the darker aspects of Mel’s job, though not by her own choice. Mel doesn’t share much beyond the positive moments, always one to bottle up her emotions, choosing to keep Becca in the dark regarding the hard days. She can tell when she’s had a difficult shift, though, as much as Mel tries to hide it.

She’s more withdrawn on those evenings, less talkative, with a distant look to her eyes that Becca can’t quite describe. The hollows beneath them are more pronounced, a darker shade of purple, and though she still participates in conversation and laughs where expected at Becca’s jokes, it feels as though she isn’t really there.

Becca doesn’t ask. She knows Mel doesn’t want her to know, doesn’t wish to bestow upon her the same demons that haunt her at the end of those shifts. So she does what she can and settles for being present, sitting a little closer, choosing a quieter movie, or one that she thinks Mel will actually enjoy.

It may not help much, but it makes Becca feel better knowing that she at least tried to make a difference for Mel.

One evening in early January, Danielle stops her in the hallway of the center as Becca’s shouldering her backpack, preparing to leave. Mel was supposed to be there to pick her up nearly an hour ago, but called to say she’d be running behind. She doesn’t say why, but Becca knows it’s because of work, that she likely had to stay over.

“There’s some guy here to get you, I think. I heard him say your name when he was talking to Mary.”

Mary’s one of the evening staff members, and probably Becca’s favorite overall. She’s nice, always sticking close to Becca, sometimes roping her into activities Becca may not otherwise participate in. She also likes to tell her she’s her favorite, particularly when they talk about the video games they like to play. She likes Animal Crossing, too, and agrees with Becca when she says Tom Nook is a crook.

“Why would a guy be here to get me? I don’t even-” Then she realizes the only man it could possibly be, and asks, “Dark hair, kind of tall?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Okay. I have to go, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll text you,” Danielle says, smiling, and then Becca’s heading in the direction of the front doors.

She finds Frank near the entrance dressed in his usual jeans and a dark hoodie with a coat thrown over top, and she frowns at the sight of him. He looks tired, mouth pressed into a thin line, though he attempts a smile when he sees her.

“Becca, hey. Ready to go?”

“Why are you picking me up? Where’s Mel?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he opens the door for her, bidding Mary goodnight as they go.

“She’s in the car,” he says, though he doesn’t initially explain further. As she goes down the stairs, snow and ice crunching beneath her careful steps, he warns, “Be careful, it’s slick,” before continuing with, “She’s okay, before you ask. It was- Today was shit, if I’m being honest. She’s really- she’s upset.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t a good day for any of us, but especially her.”

When she climbs into the back of his car, she finds Mel with her head against the window, her eyes closed. Her hands are clasped, fingers wrenching together where they rest against her chest. She can’t see much else in the low light, but hears her sniffle before she turns to say hello.

“Sorry,” Mel rasps, and Becca immediately wants to hug her. “I’m- I know I’m always the one to pick you up, but I couldn’t-”

“It’s okay, Mel, I understand. Dr. Langdon was fine.”

“God,” she huffs a laugh as Frank climbs into the driver’s seat next to her. “I can’t believe you still call him that.”

Becca shrugs, then, meeting his eye in the rearview mirror, says, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He shakes his head, smiling, and Mel reaches for him, wrapping his hand between both of hers where it rests against the center console as they begin to drive. As she fishes her headphones out of her bag, she hears Mel’s breath hitch with a harsh gasp and watches as Frank lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he murmurs, “It’s okay, baby.”

Becca doesn’t second guess the term of endearment, merely slipping the headphones over her ears, content to give them a moment of privacy.

Mel is slow in her efforts to get out of the car and walk to their front door, an invisible weight tugging at her as she moves. She’s drawn to the couch, sitting while Frank kneels in front of her, gently removing her shoes.

“You don’t have to-” she tells him, but he’s quick to interrupt her.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. “We take care of each other, right? So let me take care of you.”

“Well, yes, but I’m fine, really. Today was just- it was a lot, and I-”

“It was a lot, and I want to help you. Just let me take off your shoes so you can be comfortable. I’m trying to be chivalrous here, Mel.”

Becca doesn’t interrupt, merely sets her bag aside and heads for the kitchen in search of a snack until they decide to do something about dinner. In the other room, she can still hear hushed voices bickering, but when she returns, Mel’s shoes are off and Frank’s sitting beside her, Mel’s head buried against his chest while he holds her, rocking them back and forth. As he whispers words of comfort against her hairline, Becca decides to give them some privacy, heading in the direction of the stairs.

It’s half an hour later when there’s a knock at her door, and she opens it to find Frank holding a bag from Gino’s in one hand, the other a styrofoam cup.

“Figured you might be hungry,” he says. “I ordered it a little while ago, it might need to be reheated, and uh-” He lifts the cup, holding it out to her. “Sweet tea. Mel says it’s your favorite.”

Becca smiles, reaching first for the bag and then the sweet tea, careful not to jostle the drink too much.

It isn’t lost on her how important he’s become over the last several months, oftentimes a pillar of strength and support for Mel, but there for her in many ways as well.

It feels fitting, then, to say, “Thank you, Frank.”

He grins, huffing a laugh as he returns, “You’re welcome.”

Slowly, life involving Frank becomes the norm, their group of three no longer seeming quite so crowded.

Mel amends Becca’s pickup forms at the center permanently late one evening in the middle of February, scrawling the name, ‘Frank Langdon,’ in her penmanship that’s always halfway between print and cursive, her own name signed below for authorization.

They go to his house sometimes, usually on the days he has his kids, and Becca insists he needs to get over the bachelor pad phase and buy more decorations. She tells him it looks like a display home, and he merely shrugs. In reality, he spends just as much, if not more, time at their place, so she thinks it probably doesn’t matter what his looks like.

Becca notices Mel and Frank growing closer. They share rides to and from work most days in which they are on the same shift, and when they’re all in the same room, he can’t seem to keep his eyes, or hands, off of her. Mel’s just as bad, always brushing back the strands of hair that fall onto his forehead or reaching for his hand when they’re sitting together, her legs entwining with his until Becca can hardly tell whose is whose.

She doesn’t realize quite how close they’ve gotten until she wakes late one night and leaves her room to get a glass of water.

The old school alarm clock on her bedside table reads 3:02 in large, red letters, her eyes still bleary with sleep. Her throat is dry from thirst and she sits up, reaching for her glasses and sliding them onto her face.

The floor, old hardwood, is loud in certain places, and she’s careful to avoid them knowing that Mel has to be up in a few hours for her shift. She slowly opens her door and takes a step into the hallway. There’s a nightlight in a nearby outlet casting the room in warm, dim light. She narrowly avoids running into the small bookshelf that sits nearby, thanking God for the sake of her pinky toe, when the creak of a door sounds from behind her, and she jumps, turning in the direction of the noise.

“Oh shit,” Frank says, closing Mel’s door behind him. “You scared me.”

“You scared *me,” *she argues, and reaches for the switch on the wall, squinting at the sudden light. “What are you- Why are you shirtless?”

He stiffens at that. Becca frowns, taking in the sight in front of her, the planes of his bare chest and the spattering of thick, dark hair covering it, then trailing downwards. A red flush creeps up his neck and into his cheeks.

She wrinkles her nose. Not her taste.

“Well, I-”

Between his state of undress and the fact that he’s come out of Mel’s room rather than the living room, where he’s typically slept before, Becca decides it’s too late in the night to be thinking about the situation any further and flips off the light.

“I’m going to get a glass of water.”

“Yup. I’m- yeah.”

“Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Fine with me.”

They sit through most of the morning car ride in an awkward silence, only Mel’s discussion of the previous day’s Wordle filling the space until Becca pipes up with a nonchalant, “Are you having safe sex at least?”

She doesn’t actually want the answer, she just likes to watch Frank squirm.

Mel’s mouth falls open as she turns to face her while Frank tries to keep his eyes on the road, both of them stuttering in an attempt to respond.

“I’m- What?” Mel asks.

“We said we were never speaking about it again.”

“I’m just saying, you’re both doctors.” She shrugs. They pull to the curb and she begins gathering her things. “Also, I’m not the same person I was at three o’clock this morning.”

Frank’s leaning his head against the steering wheel when they get out of the car, and Mel shakes her head, shutting the door behind Becca.

“That was really invasive.”

“I’m sorry,” she says as she attempts to match Mel’s stride. “I caught him coming out of your room last night, I just wanted to mess with him.”

Mel huffs a laugh at that.

“He was *so red.” *

It’s several days later when Becca broaches the topic again, though this time in a more serious manner. Frank’s working the night shift and they’re left to their own devices, curled up on the couch with a carton of chocolate ice cream being passed between them. Neither of them really care much for chocolate, it’s Frank’s carton, but it’s all they had on hand when the craving hit after dinner.

“I have a question.”

Mel pauses with the spoon halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised.

“I might have an answer.”

She tries not to sound too eager when she asks, “Is Frank, like, your boyfriend now?”

Mel hands her the carton of ice cream with only a small amount left.

“We haven’t, um- we haven’t really talked about labels, I guess.” She looks away, fiddling with the spoon in her hand. When she turns back in Becca’s direction, her eyes are wet with the threat of tears. “I don’t think ‘boyfriend’ is appropriate, really. He- he’s more than that.”

Finishing the last bite, the gravity of her next question doesn’t go unnoticed. “Do you love him?”

“So much,” she says, merely a whisper, and Becca sets the carton aside to wrap her hand around Mel’s where it rests against the cushion between them. “I hope you’re okay with all of this, y’know, him always being around. If you’re not, I-”

“I’m okay with it, Mel. He’s nice.” Though she’s told Mel some semblance of this before, she knows how much more important it is now that she and Frank aren’t just friends. There’s a permanence to the situation that neither of them are willing to acknowledge quite yet. “He’s good to us.”

She could have said that he’s simply good to Mel, but that wouldn’t be true. He picks Becca up and drops her off at the center, whether or not Mel is there to do so. He laughs at her jokes and treats her the same as he would anyone else, which isn’t always the case with other people. He is good to Mel, but he’s good to Becca, too.

Though he was a bit of a nuisance at first, she has to admit, she likes having him around.

“He’s kind of the best,” Mel reasons, and Becca can’t argue with that.

It’s late May and Mel’s at work, but Frank has the day off.

He takes her and the kids to the park and she walks ahead as Tanner and Ava ride bikes. Tanner’s recently learned how to ride without training wheels and likes to show off, but Ava’s still got them, much too young to ride otherwise.

Her headphones hang low around her neck, playing music loud enough she can hear without having them on her ears, and the weather is nice without being too hot or sticky. A gentle breeze blows in the wind as they walk the trail around the park’s perimeter.

“Becca, hi,” someone calls from nearby, and she looks up to find Luann, one of the center’s morning staff members. She’s been out on maternity leave and Becca grins when she sees her, waving excitedly. “How have you been?”

“I’m great,” she says, quickly pivoting to ask, “How are you and the baby?”

“We’re both doing well, thank you.” Luann smiles, running a hand through her soft blonde hair. They talk for a few more moments, and then she’s turning to look at Frank, who’s standing nearby with the kids. Tanner waves in her direction, Ava merely clinging to Frank’s leg as he lifts a hand in greeting as well. “Who’s this you’re with?”

“Mel’s boyfriend and his kids,” she says, keeping it simple. Then, knowing he’s within earshot, and feeling the need for further explanation, “He’s what I imagine having an annoying brother would be like.”

Luann laughs at that, a bright sound, and turns to say hello to Frank. He narrows his eyes at Becca, a smile on his face, and after the typical pleasantries and Becca insisting that she can’t wait for Luann to come back to work, they go their separate ways. Frank’s stride slows to match Becca’s while the kids race ahead in an attempt to see who can pedal faster. She doesn’t think it’s a very fair race.

Frank kicks a pebble, sending it scattering across the pavement.

“Annoying brother?”

“Hey, at least I gave you ‘brother.’”

“That was nice of you. Do I really deserve the title of annoying, though?”

She shakes her head, lifting her headphones so they’re pressed against her ears and she can comfortably listen to one of her podcasts while they walk.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Frank.”