“It’s for the safety of the world,” Ty says solemnly. “Trust me. It’s better for all of us.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would—what the hell are we even talking about? What was the point of this?”
“The Kid was being an asshole,” Otter says dutifully. “And we’re having twins. And Izzie. And not enough room in the house.”
“I’ll keep you,” I say, just because Otter sometimes needs to be reassured. And then—“Is it weird that I’m not sad right now? Because I don’t know if I am.”
The Kid knows. “About her.”
“Yeah. Are you?”
He hesitates before shaking his head. “I—don’t know. I don’t know that I’ve processed it yet.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “When did you find out about it? And when did Izzie get here?”
“Today. This morning.”
“And when did you find out you were having twins?”
“At the same time.”
He sighs. “Of course that’s how it went. Everything all at once. I think… we’re allowed. Not to be sad. Or maybe we will be, once all the shock wears off. And we’ll be allowed that too. With her, I think we’re allowed to feel however we want to. And no matter how we feel, it’ll be the right thing. She was our mother, but she wasn’t our mom. That was—” And his voice breaks a little. He clears his throat. “That was someone else. So no, Bear. It’s not weird. I think it’s okay.”
“We’ll have to deal with it,” I tell him quietly. “I don’t know where her… body is. Or what happened to get Izzie here.” The thought that she had hitched rides all the way from Idaho scares me more than I care to admit. “But if you can’t—if you can’t do that, then you can just be here with Izzie while I deal with the rest.”
“While we deal with the rest,” Otter says, and his hand is in mine.
“Yeah,” I say. “We. But I’ve—we’ve got some phone calls to make. If we….”
“You have to keep her,” the Kid says suddenly. “Bear, you have to. You can’t let her go. You can’t let her be taken away. That’s not fair. To her. To anyone. She has to stay here. I know it’s a lot, that you already have—Jesus, you already have twins on the way, but you can’t let her go. Promise me. And if you can’t, then I’ll—I’ll do something about it. I’m an adult now. I can call Erica Sharp and figure something out. Get a job. And an apartment.”
“Tyson.”
“What?”
“Shut up. She’s not going anywhere. She’s here, and we’re not going to let her go.” I looked up at Otter. “Right?”
And because he’s Otter Thompson, he says, “Right,” without any hesitation at all. “But that still doesn’t mean we have more room.”
I shrug. “We can get bunk beds for the Kid’s room. She can have the top, and he can sleep on the bottom.”
“I am not sleeping on a bunk bed,” the Kid says with a scowl. “Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Fine. The pullout couch.”
“You said that was only for people you hated who stayed over at our house!” the Kid barks.
I throw my hands up. “Fine. Then where the hell are you going to sleep?”
“He could totally move in with Dominic!” a muffled voice says, sounding suspiciously like Creed.
We turn slowly toward the house.
Our entire family is pressed up against the glass doors, watching us. Izzie’s standing on the island behind them, looking over their heads. Megan’s off to the side, hand on her belly.
And not a single one of them looks guilty.
Some of them even wave.
Stacey’s there too, and she