“I beg your pardon?” she snarled. “You’re here for less than a day, and now you’re leaving again?” She tsked loudly and shook her head. “We’re counting on you, and now—”

  “Wasn’t it you who told me that if I didn’t want to help the family, I could leave?” He shrugged, exhaustion rolling off him in waves. “It’s fine for you to kick me out, but I can’t decide to leave on my own?”

  “We helped you.”

  “You’re my family! We’re supposed to help each other.” He glared at her with more fury than I’d ever seen in him, but it wasn’t enough to mask the bone-deep hurt. “Tell me, Mom—would you have let me move back in if you didn’t need my help?”

  “So I’m just supposed to let you live here for free?” She scoffed and threw up her hands. “What is wrong with you, Blake? I didn’t raise you to be—”

  “You didn’t raise me at all,” he snapped.

  The whole room was suddenly very still. If not for the sounds of kids playing upstairs, I might’ve thought the entire city had frozen in place.

  The floor creaked as Blake’s brother and sister-in-law crept in from the kitchen, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

  Blake’s mother didn’t even seem to notice. She was still apparently taken aback by Blake’s words, and multiple reactions rolled across her face. Surprise. Hurt. Anger. More hurt. More anger. Finally, she set her jaw and pushed her shoulders back, clearly ready to let fly with something, but Blake put up a hand.

  “I don’t want to hear it.” He sounded exhausted but firm. “I already raised your kids because of choices you made and kept making. I’ll pull my weight, and I appreciate being allowed to come back instead of staying on the street, but I’m not your full-time unpaid nanny for a second generation. And the fact that you’d straight up threaten to make me homeless again if I don’t—”

  “Wait, what?” A.J. turned to their mother. “Is that true?”

  Their mother set her jaw. “I’m not running a charity here.”

  “You’re letting us live here,” A.J. said. “You told us Blake offered to do all of this, and that he kept promising to show up and then dragging his feet. You never said that you…” He made a disgusted sound and shook his head. “Jesus, Mom. You’d make your own son homeless if he didn’t—”

  “We needed help,” their mother snapped. “All of us.”

  “But these are our kids, not Blake’s,” Madison said. “He shouldn’t have to decide between being homeless and taking on the lion’s share of all the hard stuff with the kids we all chose to have.” She scoffed. “My God, Sharon. What would you have done if he hadn’t taken care of his siblings when he was a kid?”

  Everyone in the room was suddenly focused on Blake’s mom. Blake looked extraordinarily uncomfortable, though, and I had to wonder if it was because he didn’t want to hear her answer. I didn’t blame him if that was the case. If there’d been a line in the sand where my mom would’ve kicked me out as a kid, I didn’t want to know either.

  “Jesus Christ.” A.J. raked his fingers through his hair, then let his hand drop to his side as he turned a horrified look on Blake. “I’m sorry, man. We thought all this time you were jerking us around. Promising to help and then bailing. I had no idea you were…” He grimaced as if it were physically painful to think it, never mind say it out loud. When his gaze landed on his mother, though, his features hardened. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  Blake stiffened. So did their mom.

  “Excuse me?” she demanded.

  “You’ve been doing this shit since we were kids.” A.J. huffed out a breath and shook his head. “It’s… God, Mom. What the hell?”

  She glared at him. “And I let the two of you move in, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah.” A.J. sounded tired now. “Because we were desperate as all hell. Good thing we had enough skills to be useful.”

  Blake’s head snapped toward him. “Skills? Useful?”

  Scowling, A.J. nodded. “Who do you think finished all those renovation projects that came with the house?”

  “For free?” Blake asked.

  “They were barely paying any rent,” his mother corrected tersely. “I could’ve charged them three times that much, but I didn’t, so it was—”

  “Cheap rent with strings attached.” A.J.’s voice actually shook now, but I couldn’t tell if it was anger, hurt or both. “You threatened to boot us and our kids out if we didn’t finish your projects when and how you wanted them. Your own grandkids, Mom. What the hell?” He made a disgusted sound and brushed past his mother. “We should’ve known there was more to the story with Blake, too.” He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I really should’ve known.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Blake said quietly. “I’m sorry you and the family were in that position.”

  A.J. gave a dry, caustic laugh. “Just keeping up the family tradition, apparently.”

  Their mother started in on what ingrates they were, which instantly had everyone—Blake, A.J., and Madison—yelling over the top of each other to shut her down.

  I couldn’t even follow what they were saying anymore. I doubted they could, either. As they argued, I flicked my gaze from one family member to the next. I was relieved A.J. and his wife understood Blake’s situation and the threats his mother had held over his head—that he hadn’t just flaked out on them—but it sucked to realize they’d been victims of that kind of manipulation, too. That they’d had to sweat over not just getting on their feet after the pandemic had smacked them down, but they had to legitimately worry about their children being made homeless. By their own grandmother.

  Jesus fucking Christ. Some part of me wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with this family, but that answer was excruciatingly clear: their matriarch.

  And why the hell was Blake standing here taking it? Up until yesterday, he’d been expecting to be stuck here for the foreseeable future. Now he had a way out, and maybe I needed to remind him of that.

  A.J. was shouting something at their mom when I put a hand on the small of Blake’s back. He turned to me, and the instant our eyes met, the fury in his expression abated.

  I tilted my head toward the front of the house and raised my eyebrows.

  He studied me as if he hadn’t quite caught my meaning, but then his eyes flicked in the same direction. Toward the door. The street. The truck.

  Freedom.

  He released a long breath, shoulders coming down a little. Facing his family again, he said, “I’m leaving.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Now.”

  The room fell silent again. His brother and sister-in-law stared at him, but their anger dimmed, too.

  His mother’s jaw worked. “Fine. Get out.” She pointed sharply at the front door. “Take your things and get out of here.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Blake growled. Then he took my hand, and we headed for the garage. Behind us, the arguing ensued again, but Blake didn’t even look back.

  In the garage, he put his hands on one of the boxes of his things, and he pushed out a ragged breath.

  I touched his back again. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He was shaking all over now. “I’ve just never…” His eyes flicked back in the direction we’d come, toward the voices now echoing down the hall. “I’ve never walked away from her like that.”

  “Have you ever been in a position to?”

  He shook his head. “No. Never. I mean, aside from when I left for college, but…” He closed his eyes. After a few more breaths he rolled his shoulders and looked at me again. “I kind of feel bad leaving them here.”

  “I know you do.” I gently tugged him into my arms, fighting back my own emotions as he sank into my embrace. “But it’s okay to save yourself. They’ll find a way out, too.”

  Another heavy sigh, and he held on to me for a long, long time. “Thank you. And not just for being better than this shitshow.” He drew back and met my gaze, his eyes a little wet. “Because just so we’re clear, I’m not only coming with you because of…” He flailed a hand toward the rest of the house.

  “I know.” I brushed a stray tear of his cheek. “And she’s not the only reason I want you to come with me.” I cupped his face and drew him in. “Not even close.”

  Blake smiled, and then he kissed me, and for a few perfect seconds, nothing else existed but this. No drama. No toxicity. Just the man I’d absolutely fallen for, holding me and kissing me as if nothing had ever been wrong in the world around us.

  Then he touched his forehead to mine, and his voice was a barely audible, trembling whisper as he said, “I love you, Marcus.”

  God, he was going to make me cry.

  “I love you, too.” I brushed my lips across his, and I was about to say something else, but a slamming door overhead made both of us jump. The shouting had stopped, too.

  “I think my brother just left.” Blake looked in my eyes, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t smile. “Maybe we should follow suit.”

  “Sounds like a great idea to me.” As I released him, I nodded at the boxes. “What do you want me to carry?”

  It only took three trips to get everything out to the truck. Most of it fit in the cab behind the seats, plus a small one on the bench between us. The last two went into the bed, and I put a tarp over them to protect them from the weather and potential thieves.

  Then we went back inside to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind.

  And so he could leave one very specific thing behind.

  He tossed the house key on the coffee table just as his mother stormed in from the kitchen.

  “I mean it,” she told him. “You leave now, you’re not coming back.”

  Blake shrugged. “Fine. Goodbye, Mom.”

  Then he turned to go, and the shock on her face would’ve been hilarious under any other circumstances. As if she couldn’t believe his audacity.

  I could. I was proud of him, and I offered up a reassuring smile as we headed for the door.

  “He’s going to turn you out just like the last one did,” Sharon called at his back. “You’re going to be living in a cardboard box again after he’s done with you!”

  I stopped dead.

  Blake halted too, and we exchanged looks. Then I turned around to face her. “I didn’t leave him on the street when he was a stranger.” Sliding my hand into his, I gritted out, “I’m sure as fuck not going to turn him out now that I’m in love with him.”

  The laugh that came out of her was ugly and cruel, and as we started to leave again, she reminded him, “I’m serious, Blake! If you walk out that door today, don’t expect to find it open when you come crawling back.”

  “Your kids shouldn’t have to come crawling back.” I pulled open the door for Blake. “He’ll be fine with me.”

  And with that, we left, letting the door cut off whatever she shouted at us. We crossed the yard, climbed into the truck, and put on our seat belts.

  As the engine rumbled to life, I turned to him. “You good?”

  A flurry of emotions filled his eyes, but he nodded. “I’m good. It’s all a little tough to process, but…I’ll be fine.” He reached over the box between us to clasp my hand. “It might take me some time to get over all this shit, but this part?” He held up our joined hands, and his smile made my heart go wild. “No doubt in my mind, this is the right thing.”

  I leaned closer to him. Not an easy feat with that box, but we met in the middle, and we shared a soft kiss. “Should we get out of here, then?”

  “Hell yes.” He touched my face, and there was a hint of fresh tears in his eyes as he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue - Blake

  A year and several thousand miles later

  * * *

  Bert crouched in the dirt, wiggling his butt as he homed in on the unsuspecting grasshopper. I carefully stepped forward, trying not to startle cat or bug, and gave him some more leash. We were far from the road and there was no one else around, so it was safe to let him roam a bit.

  The grasshopper twitched. Bert almost came unglued. He crouched lower, chin in the dirt and tail swishing. Tiny bits of plants stuck to his thick fluff, so he’d probably need to be brushed. Again. Good thing he liked that, though he was never thrilled when I had to tug out a snarl or something that had tangled itself into his fur.

  All at once, he launched himself at the grasshopper. The grasshopper made a break for it, but Bert was faster, and in a matter of seconds, he had a mouthful of bug.

  Bug which, he quickly discovered, didn’t taste as good as he thought it would. He spat out pieces of grasshopper and made a face like a toddler who’d just tried the worst vegetable on earth. I, of course, was ready and snapped a picture. He glared up at me.

  “Look, kid.” I stepped over a small, scrubby bush and hoisted the indignant cat into my arms. “You didn’t like the last three you caught. What made you think you’d like this one?”

  He responded by spitting a leg onto my shirt.

  I grimaced and plucked it away. “Thanks.” Then I cuddled him close and kissed the top of his head, which made him bap me with one of his paws. He also started purring, so he clearly wasn’t bothered by this little game. He never was.

  I scratched behind his ear, picked a few pieces of grasshopper shrapnel off his ruff, then carefully set him down on the ground again. “All right, buddy. What do you say we go back and get you some dinner you actually like?”

  I had no idea if he understood me, but he arched his back and rubbed against my calf, still purring. I leaned down to pet him. Then I gave the leash a little tug, and we headed down the path toward the trailer. The truck wasn’t back yet, which didn’t surprise or worry me. I had a key to the trailer, and I let myself and the cat in.

  Bert went straight up to the kitchen island and jumped onto the counter. I hadn’t even finished taking off my shoes before he was waiting expectantly by his bowl. I put a few treats and some kibble into it, then picked up his brush and sat down on the couch that had been my bed back when I’d first met Marcus.

  Predictably, after Bert had finished his food, he hopped down, trotted across the floor, and leaped onto the couch. He turned a few circles, then flopped onto my lap, paws curled over my knee. This, like the snack, had become part of our post-walk routine. Even if he hadn’t gotten dirty or picked up any plant life, I always brushed him afterward, which he loved as long as I wasn’t pulling on anything.

  Today, there was nothing to pull. He’d gathered a few leaves and stems, but they came out easily. There was definitely a lot to brush, though, because Bert wasn’t a tiny kitten anymore. Still young and growing, yes, but he was getting huge. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile him with the tiny fluffball that used to curl in my knee or on my pillow. The fully grown version of him was just north of fifteen pounds and not an ounce overweight. He’d filled out nicely, and he was big enough now that people occasionally asked if he was a Maine Coon. He clearly wasn’t—wrong facial features, and he wasn’t that big—but he’d definitely grown up from the puffball I’d met the day his dad picked me up off the street. He was a big boy…which made sharing my pillow a much greater challenge these days, but I didn’t mind. And since he was brushed daily—or more, because he loved it so much—we didn’t have to deal with mats or knots very often at all.

  I was just finishing up with him when the familiar diesel engine rumbled up beside the trailer. The engine shut off, and then the truck door opened, and a moment later, Marcus said, “Calm down, buddy. I have to open the door!” He did, and Ernie burst inside, a bright red fire hydrant stuffy in his mouth. His nails clicked on the floor, though not quite as loudly as earlier.

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  “Good.” Marcus put his keys on the counter and started shrugging off his jacket. “This groomer definitely knew what she was doing.”

  We’d trimmed Ernie’s claws ourselves for a while, but after Marcus had accidentally clipped one too close, he’d decided to leave it to the professionals. Ernie was fine with that, since it usually meant people fawning all over him for being such a good boy, plus his dad would take him into the store and let him pick out a toy.

  And speaking of claws, Bert started kneading as soon as he saw Marcus.

  “Uh, ow?” I carefully popped one of his claws out of my knee. “Can you do that on the armrest instead of on me?”

  “Nah, he’s fine.” Marcus grinned. “You’ll heal. The couch won’t.”

  I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, which got the expected laugh out of him. Bert, of course, kept kneading, and he purred louder as Marcus came over to pet him.

  “Has he been out?” Marcus gestured at Bert before leaning down to kiss me.

  “Yes. And the earth’s grasshopper population is down one.”

  “Oh God.” He laughed, tousling Bert’s fluff. “I mean, it’s protein, right?”

  “Says the guy who didn’t get pieces of said grasshopper spat all over him.”

  Marcus wrinkled his nose and laughed, that combination of amused and disgusted. So cute. But then, when wasn’t he cute? He stole another kiss before heading to the kitchen. Bert immediately launched himself off my lap, crossed the trailer, and was on the counter in about three strides.

  “He’s been fed,” I informed Marcus. “He’s just trying to scam you.”

  “So I see.” Marcus cupped both sides of Bert’s neck and kissed the top of his head, which earned him a swat. Typical.

  I got up, too, and we started making dinner while we chatted. Again…typical. For all this trip sounded like nonstop adventure and excitement, there was a lot of periods like this when it was just the two of us and the boys. Quiet. Routine. Domestic. We cleaned the trailer just like we’d have cleaned a house or an apartment. We cooked. We did the dishes. We worked. We paid bills. We watched TV. There was just a lot of traveling and ever-changing scenery in between.

  In the back of my mind, I’d been waiting for reality to settle in like it had with me and Ethan after we’d moved in together too quickly and found ourselves in tight confines before we’d had a chance to iron out our relationship. And no, it hadn’t been perfect bliss the whole time with Marcus. We were living in a very tiny space at the same time we were figuring us out. There were disagreements. Moments when we irritated each other or just needed to be apart, even if that meant one of us going for a walk with one of the animals while the other stayed behind.