Without looking up from petting Bert, Blake shook his head. “Not yet.” He sighed. “I figured we won’t be heading into the city for a while yet anyway. Traffic and all.” Lifting his gaze, he met me with tired, sad eyes. “Might as well not give her a reason to start blowing up my phone.”

  Trying not to let my relief show, I said, “I guess that makes sense.”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “You know, as long as you haven’t sent up that smoke signal yet…” I chewed my lip.

  Blake met my gaze again. Was that hope in his eyes?

  I cleared my throat. “We could just chill here tonight. Or go into the city and get something to eat.”

  He sat up a little, still cradling Bert. “You want to?”

  “Why not? Is your mom expecting you today?”

  He shook his head.

  I grinned. “So you could stay here another night, right?”

  Surprise, then uncertainty registered across his face. Right then, Bert batted at one of the strings on Blake’s hoodie, pulling his focus down to him. As Blake dangled the string for Bert’s swatting paws, his neck and shoulders started to relax. “I could stay, yeah.” He lifted his gaze. “I don’t want to impose, though.”

  “You’re not.” I smiled. “One more night won’t kill anyone, right?”

  His smile came a little more fully to life. “True.” He seemed to consider it, and he finally shrugged. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

  I tried not to think too much about the rush it gave me to realize he was onboard. “This, um…” I hesitated but decided to go for broke. “This is your hometown. I know you didn’t have much freedom as a kid, but you probably know where to get the best pizza in the city.”

  That earned me a soft, sad laugh. “I know where everyone said to get the best.”

  “Any chance you want to show me?”

  He looked at me again, eyes wide as if he hadn’t heard me right.

  I swallowed. “We’re already on your mom’s shit list for taking this long to get here instead of ten days.” Half-shrugging, I ventured, “What’s one more day?”

  I swear, I saw my own relief written across Blake’s face.

  “Okay, well…” He seemed to think about it. “I’m sure your viewers have told you this already, but you can’t do a review on Chicago pizza without hitting up Lou Malnati’s.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “I’ve, uh…I’ve only been there a couple of times. But it’s good. It’s really good.” With a quiet chuckle, he added, “Given your preference for deep dish, I think you’ll like it.”

  Excitement swelled behind my ribs. “Want to go? I can review it later, but we can just go have dinner.”

  The grin on his lips made my head light. “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

  Despite everything, I was almost giddy as we drove into the city that evening. I tried my level best not to think about Blake being gone after tonight, and I just focused on the now. On having dinner with him one last time.

  Admittedly, I got a bit of a thrill out of this. A rebellious spark burned hot in me as I mentally told off Blake’s mother. Even if it was just one more meal together—maybe, if I was lucky, one more night spent on opposite ends of my trailer—I wanted it.

  It seemed fitting to do it here, too. Chicago pizza was supposed to be one of the highlights of this whole journey. This was supposed to be one of the best places to get an authentic Chicago pizza. The place Chicagoans went to get the real deal.

  But I barely tasted anything. When some fans recognized me and wanted photos, I had to fight hard to smile and not let on that I wished they’d go away. I felt guilty for that—without fans, I was nothing—but every second I spent signing or posing was another second I wasn’t with Blake, and my time with him was running out way too fast.

  Everything else was lost on me. The ambiance of the restaurant. The flavors and textures of the food.

  The next time I did this, the seat across from me would be vacant, and I didn’t know how to process that. I’d set out to do this whole thing alone. I’d gone to more places by myself than I had with Blake.

  But I swore the prospect of going into another restaurant and eating another interpretation of pizza without him felt wrong.

  This experience without Blake was suddenly like…

  Well, like a pizza with no sauce. It was all wrong. Empty. Flavorless.

  The restaurant’s ambiance didn’t even register. I was vaguely aware that it was a tasteful brick look—not sure if it was faux brick or real, though it looked nice—and it was warmly lit by incandescent bulbs hanging over each table. The staff was friendly. They seemed excited to have me there, and everyone was gracious and fun while we did some filming.

  It was a damn good thing I’d done this hundreds of times before, because then I could just go through the motions. Fake it despite wishing I was anywhere but here.

  Well, not just anywhere.

  Back at the trailer. It could be parked anywhere—near Chicago, in that swamp-scented campground outside of New Orleans, under the sparkling desert sky in Arizona—as long as Blake was there with me.

  I knew that was a fantasy, though, and I tried like hell to fake my enthusiasm for the video and the pizza, and to pretend I wasn’t dying inside as Blake and I ate our last dinner together.

  We were a slice apiece into our meal when he met my gaze across the small table. “Thanks again, by the way. For everything. You…” He laughed and shook his head. “I was going to say you changed my life, but that seems like an understatement. You saved my life.”

  I smiled through the emotions that would’ve made this whole conversation awkward. “I’m glad I could help.”

  His smile made everything worth it. Including the heartache of letting him go.

  Right then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and the shift in his mood was impossible to miss. I could almost feel his heart sinking as he sighed and put the phone back down. Reaching for his drink, he muttered, “Text from my mom.”

  Of course it was his mother. I didn’t think there was anyone else alive who could depress him that much.

  I swallowed a bite of pizza that suddenly didn’t want to go down. “When do you want to go to her place?” My own heart was sinking, because I was sure we were heading there after we finished here.

  Blake stared at the slice he hadn’t finished (and probably wouldn’t, if the hint of green in his complexion was anything to go by). I fully expected him to push the plate away, sigh, and ask me to drop him off on the way out.

  I wasn’t ready when he timidly asked, “I don’t suppose I can crash with you for one more night?”

  “Of course!” The answer burst out of me without thought, because that wasn’t an answer that needed any thought. My enthusiasm might’ve been too much, though, and I quickly added, “Your stuff is still in the trailer anyway.”

  He blinked as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Oh. Right. It is, isn’t it?” The smile that came through was like the sun breaking apart storm clouds. “So I’ve got a good excuse.”

  You don’t need an excuse.

  I had no idea how I kept myself from voicing that part. Instead, I managed a more dignified, “It’s all good.”

  Fuck me, I just wasn’t ready to let him go.

  I didn’t have a choice, though. This was where he needed to be. All I could do was enjoy this last evening with him, and as much as I could, I did exactly that.

  It went by way too fast, though. Before I knew it, we were leaving the city behind and heading back to the campground with maybe an hour or two before we’d both be ready to call it a night.

  First things first, I needed to take Ernie out. Bert had the zoomies, so we decided he could go out, too. Besides, Blake probably wanted to take him for one last walk, so we harnessed up both critters and headed outside.

  The cold was sharp, but it wasn’t too bad. Ernie had a thick undercoat that kept him warm, and Bert’s long-haired coat had been getting fuller with time. The cold didn’t seem to bother either of them, and as we walked them through the campground, Ernie busied himself sniffing everything while Bert hunted anything that moved (and quite a few things that didn’t).

  Blake and I didn’t say much. There probably wasn’t much to say now. We just focused on the animals, laughing when Bert pounced on a leaf and when Ernie found a giant stick that he just had to carry around with him. I’d give them credit—they were entertaining enough to keep us both smiling despite the mood that was trying hard to set in.

  At one point, Bert attacked a candy wrapper or something, and after he’d lost interest in that, he swished his tail irritably. Then he twisted around and tried to get something out of his long plume. That was when I realized he’d managed to get a twig tangled up in the fluff.

  “Dude…” Blake laughed, scooped Bert up off the ground, and carefully removed the twig. Of course Bert helped, batting at Blake’s sleeve and fingers while he worked, but Blake eventually managed. He tossed away the twig, but he didn’t put the cat back on the ground. Instead, he cradled him in the crook of his elbow the way he did when he was carrying him around in the trailer. Bert didn’t mind at all. He settled back, same as ever, and even from a few feet away I could hear him purring.

  Usually, Blake couldn’t help smiling when he held Bert like that. His expression was full of fondness, but there was something else that hit me right in the feels. It was like he was drinking in the moment and memorizing Bert.

  When I realized what he was doing, it hit me harder than when I’d caught him doing it earlier. This time, I had to turn away and pull myself together.

  Blake was mentally saying goodbye to Bert. Preparing to leave.

  Because tonight would be his last night sharing the couch with Bert.

  This was his last walk with Ernie.

  It was my last night with Blake.

  And I couldn’t fucking breathe because this wasn’t supposed to hurt.

  Chapter 19

  Blake

  My mother’s house came into view, and my stomach wound itself into a tighter knot. This was where I needed to be. Where I’d been trying to get to from Albuquerque before I’d crossed paths with Marcus. Seeing this place should’ve been a relief because it meant I had a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on now. Sure, it was going to be stressful in its own right, but it was an end to the desperation of homelessness.

  Marcus parked the truck on the street, and I barely stopped myself from sighing. It had become a running joke, me teasing him about his insistence on showing off by parallel parking in the tightest confines. And on this street, finding a place to wedge a truck this big was pretty impressive. I just didn’t have it in me to say anything about it.

  As he shut off the engine, I double-checked the address my mom had given me. As we got out of the truck, I said, “Looks like this is the place.”

  Marcus glanced at me as we headed up the walk. “This isn’t the house you grew up in?”

  Shaking my head, I slid my hands into my jacket pockets. “Nah. We moved around a lot. She’s been here…” I thought about it. “Couple of years, maybe? I don’t even remember. Sometime after the pandemic started, I know that.”

  He nodded but said nothing. He also didn’t press, which I appreciated. He was never one to pry, and God knew I didn’t have the energy to get into my long history of bouncing between houses and apartments all over the poorer parts of Chicago. Or the occasional periods of briefly tasting middle-class life before my mom would divorce, cheat on, or dump whichever man had pulled us into a nicer part of town. Or how she’d bragged about scoring this enormous house for a song even though we all knew far too well how miserable it was to be on the other side of a foreclosure.

  Exhaustion pressed down on my shoulders as we walked up the paint-chipped front steps to the door.

  I loved my mom. I really did. But her lifelong pursuit of love, coupled with her unfailing ability to self-sabotage and never-ending dependence on me, had taken their toll during my first eighteen years. As grateful as I was for a place to go that wasn’t a homeless shelter or an overpass, I didn’t relish taking back my front row seat to the roller coaster that was my mother’s life. I especially wasn’t looking forward to shouldering all the responsibilities that she—and now my adult siblings—couldn’t keep up with.

  I hesitated at the door. There was noise on the other side. I recognized it as the constant barrage of activity in a house full of kids, peppered by the sharp snapping of annoyed adults. Somewhere, a baby cried. Somewhere else, something crashed, and then young voices were shouting at each other.

  Closing my eyes, I exhaled.

  Beside me, Marcus was quiet, but I could feel him watching me.

  After a moment, he whispered, “Are you sure about this?”

  As frustrated as I was by the situation I was walking into—both because of how I’d fucked up my own life and how everyone in this house would expect me to help them manage theirs—the answer to his question was easy. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  What other choice do I have?

  Before I could spend any time on pipe dreams of actually having options, I rang the doorbell. Or, well, I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I knocked instead. Still nothing, so I tried again, harder this time.

  That must’ve cut through the noise on the other side, because heavy footsteps came down the hall. The deadbolt clicked, the door swung open, and a guy who was maybe twenty or so eyed us from under a Cubs baseball cap.

  For a split second, I thought I might be at the wrong house, but then my mother’s familiar voice came from somewhere in the house: “Is that Blake?”

  “Uh.” The guy looked me up and down. “You Blake?”

  I nodded.

  He grunted and called over his shoulder as he gestured for us to come in. “Yeah, it’s him.”

  Marcus and I exchanged looks, then stepped inside.

  My sister Kat appeared, smiling thinly, and introduced us to the guy, who turned out to be her husband, Evan. After cursory handshakes, Evan left the room and Kat turned a cold look on me. “I wondered if you were ever going to get here. Did you enjoy the scenic route?”

  I gritted my teeth. Kat had been nothing but caustic to me ever since the decision had been made for me to come live with them. Especially once it had become clear that it was going to take me a while to get here. The longer I’d taken to show my face, the less friendly her sporadic texts had become. Still, it was weird to see her looking at me so coldly and hear her talking to me like this. We’d been fairly close when we were younger. Lately, though…

  Well, we’d have plenty of time to figure it out since we were living under the same roof again. As placidly as I could, I said, “Had some stuff to take care of first.”

  She tsked, rolled her eyes, and stalked off, stomping up the stairs and shouting after one of her kids as she went.

  Marcus watched her go, eyes wide. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed dryly. “My family really knows how to play welcoming committee.”

  Case in point—my mother strode in a moment later. After a terse, “Oh, you’re here,” and an introduction to Marcus, she gestured down the hall. “Your boxes from the police department are in the garage.” She paused before adding with a sneer, “They showed up while you two were jaunting around the country.”

  I supposed I should be grateful she’d gone straight to business instead of giving Marcus grief. She hadn’t been happy the last few times we’d talked, and had had a few choice words about him. I’d pleaded with her to just be nice to him, and so far, so good. I didn’t push my luck.

  “Awesome. I’m glad all that stuff got here.” Some tension unwound in my neck and shoulders. “It’s everything the cops recovered from my car.”

  “Whatever it is, I’d like it out of my garage, please.” She narrowed her eyes. “And what about your car?”

  “Trashed. I told them to junk it.”

  She exhaled sharply. “So you don’t have any transportation of your own.”

  “No. It’s fine. I can use the bus or the L if I need to get around.”

  That answer didn’t impress her. “Well, I guess you’ll have to plan ahead when you take the little ones out. They don’t need to be standing on a platform or at a bus station in this weather.”

  I glanced at Marcus, and for a second, his expression screamed, Is she for real? Then he schooled his face to something neutral.

  Yeah, she was for real. And she was being polite right now because Marcus was here.

  “I’ll find a car eventually,” I muttered. “Just…need to save some money.”

  “The sooner the better,” Mom said. “Anyway, let me show you where to put your things, and then you can go through those boxes in the garage. Oh, and we had to shuffle bedrooms around a bit.” She made a dismissive motion toward the stairs as she headed into the living room. “Kat and Evan are working some things out, so they both need a little space from each other. And he can’t sleep with the baby in the room, so…” Another dismissive gesture.

  My heart sank. “So where am I sleeping?”

  I knew the answer even before Mom nodded in the direction of the living room.

  The couch. The same damn couch she’d had my whole damn life. Awesome.

  Hell. Maybe this explained why my sister had been so snappy with me lately. Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all, but her stress over her marriage. Ooh, living here was going to be fun.

  As I put my backpack down beside it, I skimmed my gaze over the faded floral upholstery. There were a lot of memories on that couch, very few of which I wanted to chew on while I tried to go to sleep. Memories like sitting here at three in the morning on a school night because Mom was at work, her boyfriend was passed out, Grandma was too sick, and I was too exhausted to keep walking up and down the hall to get a fussy baby to fall asleep. That was the night I’d discovered that my half-sister would sleep on my chest if I was semi-reclined on the couch, and I’d forced myself to stay awake for hours because I was terrified if I fell asleep myself, I’d drop her or roll over on her.