“Learned this from his mum,” Cameron tells me, arranging the mugs down in a straight row, handles aligned nicely. I already knew this, but I love hearing stories about Molly Dane, so I gladly listen anytime Will and Cameron reminisce about the woman whose influence on their lives still runs strong.
And yet, despite their happy memories, there’s so much heartbreak in this kitchen, it’s nearly dripping off the walls and ceilings, into our hair and skin. I try not to think of my own mother, who never made me anything to help me sleep. Or my father, who never asked what was wrong, let alone spent time with me in the dark of night to ease my worries.
The chair creaks when Cameron sits back down. “I heard there was a mugging not far from your boarding house this week.”
I’m not surprised by the crime or by Cameron’s gentle disapproval. He’s letting me off the hook for why I’m up in the middle of the night, but he won’t let me off for where I live.
The Dane boys have been after me for weeks to just move in with them already. Both object to where I live, citing “shifty characters” in an “unsavory neighborhood” filled with “transient workers” that apparently think of nothing but “accosting innocent women” after being at sea for weeks or months.
The guys have a point. It’s not like I think of where I live as home anyway. The boarding house is cramped; I share a bathroom with some old dude who smells like the Preparation-H he must buy in bulk, and there’s some other guy missing teeth who’s always on the stairs, ready to pummel me with his requests for a date, or, worse yet, a night of “raging, unencumbered sexual gratification.”
But living here? With Will and Cameron? That’d be the same as putting down roots, which doesn’t seem fair to them, or me no matter how much I want to. Because, sooner or later, somebody is going to come looking for me. And when they do, I’ll have to run. And yet . . . I feel safe with the Dane boys. Their house has been my sanctuary. The love they’ve shown me, the utter acceptance into their lives and home, have been a lifeline. For nearly twenty years, I’ve been starved for what they offer so freely. Security. Acceptance. Love. Honesty.
And most importantly: family.
“Having a girl around full-time will cramp your bachelor style,” is what I finally say, even though I know it’s a lie.
This amuses Will. “You spend the night at least five times a week anyway. You’re over here every day as it is. There hasn’t been a single dinner we haven’t had together as a family—except when any of us work—since the week I met you. You have a toothbrush in the bathroom. Deodorant. Your clothes hang in the closet. You picked out our Christmas tree. You buy Nell food. Hell, I even heard you call her your ‘good girl’ the other day.”
I glance down at Nell, who’s curled up underneath the table. She snorts in her sleep and kicks a leg; unlike the rest of us, Nell only dreams of good things, or so I hope. But he’s right. This old girl is the dog I’d always wanted growing up but was denied due to my parents’ beliefs that pets were irrelevant and burdensome to their crafts.
“I mean, I found one of your bras in the hamper this past weekend.”
My cheeks burn. I’d wondered where I’d put that one.
Cameron chuckles at my shame. “Nothing either of us hasn’t seen before, lass.”
Could this get any worse? What’s next? Did I leave behind stray tampons, too?
Will turns away from the pan to face me, hip propped against the counter. “We can even go over to your place right now and box everything up. It’ll take, what—a half hour at the most, between the three of us?”
I study his dark eyes, gauging his seriousness. It’s three in the morning, after all. And he’s just gotten off what was, no doubt, a hellishly difficult phone call with his technically ex-girlfriend, even after all that’s happened between them. “I would never ask you to do such a thing in the middle of the night.”
Cameron rubs at his neat beard. “You need not to ask. We’re more than happy to go and pack you up and bring you home.”
Home.
After resisting it for so long, I finally allow the word to sink into me and spread out. This place is home to me, has been for weeks. Months, if I’m being honest with myself.
Cameron must see the sheen of tears in my eyes—they won’t fall, I refuse to let anyone see me cry anymore—but he must see them, because his large hand covers mine. “I cannot stand the thought of you being alone in that place when you have a room here to call your own.”
I should say no. It’s the smart move. I’ll only hurt them in the long run when I have to disappear. But the truth is, I love Cameron Dane like a father. More than my actual father, which sounds awful yet liberating to admit, if even just to myself. And I love Will, too. In these short months, these two have truly become more of a family to me than anyone I share blood and genetics with. So I take a deep breath, count to ten in my head, and say the only thing that I can and be completely true to myself. Something expands in the hollow of my chest, something warm and comforting, when I murmur, “Okay.”