Every summer, Aunt Lila hosted a family barbecue in her big backyard. The kind with creaky lawn chairs, questionable potato salad, and enough yelling to wake the neighbors. Nobody really wanted to go, but nobody dared skip it either.
This year, it was hotter than usual, and the air smelled like sunscreen and overcooked burgers. Elena showed up late, as always, parking her car two blocks away just to buy herself a few extra minutes of peace.
Inside the gate, chaos. Kids screaming. Uncle Dom arguing about gas prices. Grandma asleep in a rocking chair with a plate of ribs on her lap. Elena smiled tightly and made the rounds. Fake laughs, quick hugs, dodged questions about her job and love life.
Then she saw him—Eli. Her cousin. The one who used to sneak her candy and teach her swear words behind the shed. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since the fallout over the inheritance after Grandpa Joe died. Eli looked older, tired, but the same crooked smile.
They locked eyes across the yard.
“Hey,” he said, holding out a beer like a peace offering.
“Hey,” she said, taking it.
They sat on the back steps, away from everyone else, listening to the muffled sound of aunts bickering over who brought the best pie. No big talk. No apologies. Just a quiet truce in the sun.
Family didn’t always fix itself. But sometimes, it started with a beer and silence. And that was enough.
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