Chapter 88 #2
Meanwhile, RJ’s parents’ marriage has been slowly unraveling.
He told me privately that he’s proud of his mom for finally stepping away, for admitting that prayer won’t fix things with his dad.
Her responsibility lies in keeping her kids safe and stable, not in managing her addict husband.
And the way he smiled when he told me that she promised his sisters will never carry the burden he did, it was like the first warm day of spring after a long, cold winter.
He’s so happy they’ll get to stay kids as long as he should have.
I only wish she could have given him the same promise, all those years ago.
Jansen’s mom has been working on getting him and Evie back together, but surprising all of us, Jansen doesn’t want to try.
As near as I can tell, he’s not mad that she judged him.
He’s mad that she judged me. Add to that the hurt she caused Emma, who is his new BFF, and I’m not sure what it will take for their relationship to unthaw.
Walker said that because it takes so much for Jansen to get mad, it takes him a long time to cool down, and to not worry for now.
I hope that’s true. Evie seemed cool, even though she’s overprotective of her brother.
I can’t blame her for that. He’s well worth protecting.
Two days after they released Walker from the hospital, the doorbell at our temporary house rang. An Asian couple stood outside with shopping bags full of food—Walker’s parents.
He pretended it meant nothing, but they fussed over him, making us all an epic dinner and insisting we keep the leftovers.
And when a loopy Walker announced I was his girlfriend, his parents shared a look, then asked if I was done with school as well.
When I said I was, they immediately started interrogating me about what career I planned on having, and inexplicably, I told them I was thinking about law school.
Trips’ eyebrows had raised, and after they left, he slumped onto the couch next to me. “Law school?”
“I have a feeling we’re going to need a good lawyer someday.”
“You would be good at that,” Walker said, eyes half shut beside me.
Jansen sprawled on the ground in front of us, a drugged-up Fluffington in a fabric box on his chest, Emma trying to change his dressings as he yowled in protest at her help.
Jansen stretched, the box bobbled, Emma cursed, and Fluffington hissed, before Jansen laughed at the whole thing. “But that’s a lot of work.”
“So’s being a thief,” I responded.
RJ laughed, my bones melted, and I’d leaned against Trips’ shoulder, holding Walker’s hand, his leg propped on a bench that had suddenly appeared the day before.
It was obviously stolen.
We were all okay with that.
Emma eventually stripped the brown dye from her hair, getting it back to her vibrant pink. In celebration, she insisted we go out, somewhere, anywhere.
For some reason, I suggested the Prancing Goat Cafe, and once we stepped out of the snow and into the steamy coffee shop, I felt it—I didn’t fit anymore.
And instead of being sad or uncomfortable with that fact, I embraced it.
I’ve grown so much from the timid girl who used to work here, plastering a smile on my face no matter what I was feeling, keeping myself small while wishing for a future that was larger than life.
Carrie fawned over me, comping my drink and asking about my study abroad, mentioning that Walker had told her I was fine.
It was nice catching up, but I already knew I wasn’t going to be coming back.
While Emma and I drank our drinks and shared a brownie, tossing ridiculous cat-based lyrics for a hypothetical bluegrass song back and forth until I was snorting with laughter, someone pulled a chair out beside us.
Immediately on edge, I relaxed as Jonah plopped onto it, a paper cup in his hand. “Hey spy girl. Where’s your security?”
I laughed. “I’m all done with that. Thank God.”
“Good. I like excitement as much as the next guy, but that was pretty intense. I’m assuming I won’t have any courier duties next semester?”
“Nope. I’m all graduated and back home.”
He lifted a brow. “Your house is ash.”
“Collateral damage.”
Emma laughed, and I joined her, while Jonah looked perplexed at why a house fire would be a laughing matter. He shook his head. “I’m starting to think Callie was onto something about helping you being too dangerous.”
“How is Callie?” I asked, wanting to be a good friend to the person who allowed me and the guys to have an open line of communication.
“We broke up. Apparently we have different tolerances for excitement. I like to go to concerts every weekend and carry out secret missions for acquaintances and she…doesn’t.”
My smile fell. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, then slid his eyes over to Emma. “I’m Jonah,” he said, holding his hand out to my best friend.
Emma tucked her short pink hair behind an ear. “Emma. There’s nothing wrong with weekly concerts in my book. But break-ups suck. I’m sorry.”
“I take it you’re fresh out of one as well?” he asked, digging.
“Yup.”
He stretched an arm out, casually resting it on the back of her chair. “Maybe we could get coffee sometime, commiserate or something?”
I’d taken that as my cue to find something to do at the drink station.
Emma peppered me with questions the whole way home, but I ended up siccing her on Trips for more information.
I’m excited to see where it goes for them.
Emma deserves someone just as brave as she is, and while I don’t know if Jonah’s that person for her, I think we’re both curious to see if he might be.
I’m pulled from my reflections when the SUV stops in front of yet another property for us to tour.
The off-campus house we’re staying in is fine, but it was always meant to be a rental.
And now with six people, a cat, and a tentative request from Trish and Jade for a place to stay over summer break now that things between RJ’s mom and dad are falling apart, we needed a better space than a four-bedroom rental property within walking distance of a school none of us go to.
Looking up at the house, my breath catches. “Wait,” I say, grabbing RJ’s arm. “Is this?”
“The free apple house? Yup. It just came onto the market yesterday. The owner’s requesting that the new buyers honor the fall tradition of giving away the apples.”
His golden-brown eyes shine as a hint of a smile peeks out from his beard, and I end up flinging myself into his arms.
“Not so fast, princess. You might not like the inside,” Walker teases, his crutches making rhythmic clinks down the icy sidewalk.
I look up at the Tudor-revival mansion, the stucco and swooping rooflines coupled with a wood-grid dancing across the third floor, and I can’t help but feel like it’s somehow cute and whimsical, despite its size.
“Can we afford this?” I ask nobody in particular.
But of course it’s Trips who answers. “Clara, we could buy this outright if we wanted to liquidate our cash assets. As it is, once my father’s estate settles, we’ll have double that at least. So don’t worry about the numbers. Just see if you can imagine us living here.”
The inside still has its original hardwood floors and trim, but it’s bright and light, welcoming where the Westerhouse estate was dreary.
The windows out front offer a view of the lake, while the side and back of the house look into the tiny orchard.
Outside there’s a big patio and hot tub just steps from a greenhouse-like breakfast nook.
It might be winter, but I can imagine how green and gorgeous all the views will be come summer.
Jansen comments on all the places Fluffington would love to sun himself, while Walker tentatively claims a small, windowed alcove as a studio space because of the beautiful light.
RJ finds a room in the basement that he comments would work great for when he does his deep dives into the dark web, and Trips is quick to point out that another basement room could be turned into an at-home gym.
But it’s the giant master suite that sells me on the place.
There’s a fireplace, a massive tub in the en suite, and enough space for two king-sized mattresses pushed together.
When we first talked about what we wanted in a house, RJ insisted that we each have our own bedrooms, me included, even if we usually spend the night together now.
With Mattie, Trish, and Jade coming to live with us, I was more than willing to give my extra space up for a while, as were Jansen and Walker, but either way, it was obviously perfect.
I could already see myself coming in from a run around the lake and finding all four of my guys waiting for me. Elaborate meals around a big, bright table. Leisurely mornings spent sprawled in a pile of limbs after long nights spent savoring each other.
And every fall, putting up a sign to invite the neighbors to pick our apples, sharing what we have with others.
We gather in the living room, Walker on the couch on my left, Jansen on my right, RJ and Trips taking armchairs on either side of us.
“So, what do we think?” Walker asks.
“I want it,” Jansen says.
My smile grows as, one by one, each of us agrees that this is what we were looking for. This is our home.
And when I glance up at the blank screen of the TV across from us, I see a portrait of the five of us reflected back, building the future we’d always wanted. Together.