Chapter 5 Salmon Landon's Introduction

It was Sunday.

Gray's house smelled like steamed rice, grilled chicken, and fresh thyme. The kind of smell that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a warm hug. May stood outside the front door, arms folded, staring at the welcome mat like it owed her an explanation.

She wasn't sure why she'd come.

Maybe because the fridge at home was still empty. Maybe because she was tired of the silence. Or maybe-just maybe-because Gray never stopped asking.

She rang the bell once and pushed the door open without waiting for a response.

"May!" Cassandra's voice sang out from the kitchen, followed by the soft clatter of plates.

May forced a small smile and stepped in. The living room was cozy, a blend of candles and throw pillows and a quiet Christian playlist humming in the background. She spotted Gray at the dining table, sorting through a stack of envelopes. He looked up and beamed.

"You came."

"Don't act surprised," she muttered, dropping her bag on the couch.

"I'm not. I'm just glad." He got up and wrapped his arms around her. It was quick-Gray never overdid it with her-but it was enough to remind May why she used to feel safe here.

Cassandra peeked in with a wide smile. "Come help me set the table, will you?"

As May followed her into the kitchen, her eyes caught the tall figure standing at the sink. He was turned slightly away, drying a glass with easy, confident hands. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loose at the collar. He had the kind of clean, polished look that screamed money, but the way he smiled when he turned toward her felt disarmingly boyish.

"May, this is Salmon," Cassandra said, gesturing between them. "Salmon Landon."

May froze. The name hit her like cold water.

She blinked, sizing him up.

So this was him. Gray's best friend. The one she'd heard too much about and never cared to meet. The son of the globally known preacher whose face was plastered on billboards and prayer crusades like he was the fourth member of the Trinity.

"I've heard a lot about you," Salmon said, offering his hand.

May crossed her arms. "Can't say the same."

Gray cleared his throat awkwardly.

But Salmon didn't flinch. He let his hand fall and chuckled. "Fair enough. Still good to finally meet you."

His voice was smooth, deep. A little too calm for her liking. Like someone who wasn't used to being rattled.

Cassandra shot May a subtle warning look and changed the subject. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

***

Over dinner, May barely touched her plate. She picked at her food, offered polite nods, and watched Salmon from the corner of her eye. He wasn't loud. Didn't brag. He talked like someone used to listening more than speaking. That irritated her.

People like him-charming, soft-spoken, faith-filled-made her skin crawl.

He asked about her job, and she gave him one-word answers.

He mentioned music, and she nodded without engaging.

When he complimented Cassandra's cooking, May rolled her eyes.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Salmon finally said, smiling at her.

"Depends on the company," she shot back.

Gray gave her a look, but Salmon just grinned wider. "Touché."

***

Later, when Cassandra pulled Gray into the kitchen to handle a burnt dessert tray, May found herself alone with Salmon in the living room. He sat back in the armchair, ankles crossed, sipping from a glass of water like he had all the time in the world.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"You already are."

He chuckled. "Why do you hate me?"

May arched a brow. "Do I need a reason?"

"I'm guessing it has something to do with my last name. Or maybe my father."

She snorted. "Or maybe the fact that you carry yourself like some spiritual FBI agent sent to interrogate my soul."

"I'm not here to interrogate you, May."

"Right. Just win my soul, isn't that what Gray told you?"

There it was-the jab.

She didn't miss the slight twitch in his jaw. But he stayed calm.

"I'm not trying to win anything," he said slowly. "I just wanted to meet you."

She leaned forward, voice dropping. "Listen, Mr. Church Boy, I don't need saving. And I don't need another holy soldier marching into my life like I'm some charity case."

"I never said you were."

"You didn't have to."

A long silence stretched between them. The kind that dared one of them to blink.

Salmon set his glass down. "You don't scare me, you know."

May narrowed her eyes. "Good. I'm not trying to."

"I'm just saying... I see past the sarcasm. The walls. The distance."

"Oh, how noble," she mocked. "You see the broken girl inside?"

He didn't respond.

Instead, he stood and reached for his jacket. "Thank you for the hospitality," he called toward the kitchen. "It was great seeing you, Gray. Cassandra, as always, the food was perfect."

He turned to May, holding her gaze one last time. "I'm not here to change you, May. But I'm not going anywhere either."

And with that, he walked out.

***

May stood frozen.

She didn't know what annoyed her more-his boldness or the quiet way he spoke like he actually meant what he said.

She exhaled hard and sank onto the couch.

Who did this guy think he was?

Coming in here, acting like he could play therapist with a smile and a suit?

She wanted to laugh.

But somehow, her heart was beating just a little too fast.

***

Later that night, back in her apartment, May paced the floor like something was crawling under her skin.

Her phone buzzed again.

Gray: Don't judge too quickly. Salmon's not like the others.

May stared at the message for a long time.

Not like the others.

They all say that-until they are.

She tossed her phone onto the bed and walked to the window. The city still buzzed, loud and alive. But her mind was stuck on one quiet sentence.

I'm not going anywhere, May.

Her jaw clenched.

"Wanna bet?" she whispered into the dark.