Chapter 27 Family. No Matter What.
Family. No Matter What.
Coleman
Something’s changed.
I know it the second I open my eyes.
She’s not in my bed.
I was hoping she would come to me last night.
The spot where she slept two nights ago is cold. My chest tightens as I sit up, raking a hand through my hair and pushing down the immediate urge to go to her.
Let her be.
Let her come to you.
That’s what I keep telling myself, but the ache in my chest doesn’t listen.
Because that night… she was mine.
Not just her body—though Christ, the memory of it makes my hands curl into fists—but the way she looked at me after. Like maybe, just maybe, she saw it too. This thing between us. The weight of it. The future of it.
But now?
Now she’s quiet again.
I find her in the kitchen with the girls, sipping coffee and laughing at something Paige says, but there’s a carefulness in her shoulders I haven’t seen since the first week she moved in.
She’s pulling back.
I feel it in my gut.
“Morning,” I say, brushing a kiss to Paige’s head as I pass. I glance at Remi, catching the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she quickly looks away.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft, too soft, and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear like she’s hiding.
I want to walk over, wrap my arms around her from behind, and press my lips to the side of her neck until she melts into me. I want to whisper that I’m not going anywhere. That she’s not too much. That she’s exactly the kind of chaos I want to wake up to every damn day.
But I don’t.
Because the girls are here, and I don’t want this—us—to feel like pressure. Like something she’s locked into because of them.
I want her to choose me.
To want this.
To stay because her heart’s already here, not because mine is.
I clear my throat and glance at the time. “I’ve got that meeting in an hour, and I was thinking the girls could do some back-to-school shopping today.”
Paige lights up immediately. “Can we get glitter pens this time?”
“You can get whatever you want as long as you don’t bring slime into my house again.”
She giggles and throws a thumb up like it’s a deal.
I look to Payton next. She’s quieter but nods. She’s been lighter since they went to Remi’s parents. A little softer around the edges, like some part of her has finally decided to believe she’s safe.
God, I hope that never changes.
“Remi,” I say gently, “do you think you can take them? I’ll cover whatever you need.”
She nods but doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Yeah, of course.”
There it is again.
Distance.
Like she’s here but not all the way.
I want to ask her what’s going through her head. I want to drag the truth out of her until I can tear down whatever wall she’s starting to rebuild.
But I don’t.
Because she’s already scared.
So I take a breath and force a smile. “Thanks.”
The girls chatter as they finish breakfast, but I barely hear them. My eyes keep drifting back to her.
To the way she avoids holding my gaze for too long.
To the way she bites her lip when she thinks I’m not looking.
To the way she flinches—just barely—when I brush past her on my way to the door.
“Girls,” I call over my shoulder, “be good. No glitter on the walls.”
“Promise!” Paige calls out.
“Half a promise,” Payton mutters with a smirk.
I pause at the door, hand on the knob, and glance back at her one last time.
Remi.
Standing there with a coffee mug and a thousand thoughts behind her eyes.
I don’t say anything.
I just give her a look. One that says I see you. I know you’re scared. I’m not.
Then I leave.
Because if she’s going to run, I need to let her realize on her own that she doesn’t have to.
I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I step through the front door and hear them.
Laughter.
Light and carefree, bouncing off the walls like it belongs here. Like it’s always been here.
The girls are sprawled across the living room floor surrounded by shopping bags and crumpled receipts, comparing markers and notebooks like they’re state secrets.
Paige is holding up a glitter-covered folder with stars in her eyes, while Payton flips through a sketchpad and tries to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
Remi’s sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, hair loose around her shoulders, the faintest curve of a smile on her lips as she watches them.
She doesn’t see me.
So I watch her.
Because something about this moment roots me in place.
This—them—this is it.
This is the life I didn’t know I was waiting for.
“Dad!” Paige jumps up and races toward me with a new pencil case shaped like a cat. “Look what I got! Honey bought it for me!”
I blink. “Honey?”
“Remi’s mom,” Payton explains, not looking up from her sketchbook. “She came with us.”
“Pops too,” Paige adds, like that explains everything. “But then Uncle Oliver and Uncle Matthew showed up at the store, and they said they came to ‘carry the bags’ but they didn’t carry anything. They just goofed around.”
Remi laughs under her breath. “They got us kicked out of one store.”
“They did not,” Paige argues. “The worker said we were just too… enthusiastic.”
I snort, toeing off my shoes. “I’m shocked. Really. Uncles, huh?” I ask, tossing a glance at Remi. Her cheeks are tinged pink, but she doesn’t say anything.
Paige shrugs like it’s obvious. “They said they were family. No matter what.”
I freeze for a second. That one line hits me square in the chest.
Family. No matter what.
I glance over at Payton, who’s settled on the floor flipping through a notebook. She doesn’t say anything, but I catch the tiniest nod.
They believe it. Because of Remi. Because of the people she brought into their lives.
And that’s when I know—truly know—that this thing we’ve built isn’t temporary.
Remi glances up at me then, eyes catching mine for the first time all day.
And there’s something different in them.
It’s quiet—barely there—but it knocks the air out of me.
She sees me.
And for the first time in what feels like days, she’s not pulling away.
“How was your meeting?” she asks, voice soft.
“Long.” I walk toward the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands. “Thought I’d make stir fry for dinner. Girls good with that?”
“Yes!” Paige says immediately, then runs off to show Payton something else.
Remi follows me in, leaning against the counter as I pull ingredients from the fridge. She doesn’t say anything right away, just watches me like she’s memorizing something.
“They start school next week?” she asks after a beat.
“Orientation is on Tuesday. First full day is Thursday.”
She nods, and I swear her lips twitch—just enough to show me she’s picturing it. Backpacks and early mornings. Packing lunches and walking to the car. Routines. Family.
Then she does something that sends a jolt straight down my spine.
She walks past me and runs her hand across my back. Just a soft, casual brush of her fingers over my shirt.
But it’s not casual. Not for her. Not for me.
It’s a claim.
And I feel it like a brand.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to look at her out of the corner of my eye.
She’s still facing forward, hands now busy pulling plates from the cabinet like nothing happened.
But it did.
And when the girls head upstairs later—Paige dragging a mountain of glitter pens behind her and Payton muttering something about how her sketchbook is already almost full—I stay frozen at the sink, rinsing the last plate, waiting.
And when the girls are finally in bed, when the house is still and the silence settles in, I see her again.
She walks past her own room.
Doesn’t even hesitate.
And slips straight into mine.
No words.
Just a look over her shoulder like she’s waiting to see if I’ll follow.
She gives me a soft, almost shy smile as she slips into my room like she’s been doing it for years.
And right then, I know.
She’s not running.
Not tonight.
Not from me.
Not anymore.