Cardboard scrapes across the worn hardwood floor, and Owen’s laughter, bright and unguarded, hits me right in the chest as we talk about basketball and Fortnite. It’s hard to remember that he’s a kid in all this. Dealt a shitty luck hand he didn’t deserve. I know that hand very well.
Cami, Owen, and I all have parents like that. Me and Cami’s luck was that we had our grandparents, the Wilder side, to show us what a family is supposed to look like. And whenthey died, anything that resembled a family was lost. We had to practically claw our way out of our childhoods. Our dad is off in another town, leaving us alone for a while now. Cami tracked him down recently, and she finally realized he was never going to change. Our mom, Theresa, she’s...something. Sometimes it seems like she’s trying. And other times it looks like she’s her usual self again. Selfish, manipulative, and conniving.
Cami has been giving her a chance, but I don’t see it. She’s not good and only comes around when she wants money or someone to do something for her. And it’s hard for me to help her, even though I would naturally help anyone. I think back to our childhood when she never helped us. I remember Jack giving me some of his clothes because mine were threadbare and my parents wouldn’t buy me any new ones. They worked us like dogs and neglected us. That’s why I was mad as hell when CPS showed up with a child neglect allegation. Because Owen isn’t neglected. Not even close. I know what true neglect looks like, and this isn’t it. He’s happy and thriving. So, getting rid of crappy threadbare clothes and making sure he has everything he needs is important. I move a stack of hoodies in great shape, then pile them for trash or donation.
I’m in Owen’s room with him, packing boxes, folding shirts, and trying not to think about how things are changing for him. It feels like everything he and Poppy have been carrying is coming to a head. A shift is happening. I can’t wait to get them away from here and out from under Sully. Sully has never put them first, and watching how he treats them has been infuriating. That man runs with a dangerous crowd and needs to get gone for good.
Poppy’s down the hall packing the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing, her footsteps moving fast like she’s trying not to think too hard. I know that pace. It’s her, ‘I’m fine pace.’The one that means she’s anything but fine. She’s stressed to the max.
Yesterday, when Maggie told the CPS worker that Poppy and I were engaged, I just went with it. And I was shocked when she did, too. Then it just fell out of my mouth that they were moving upstairs because that’s what I’ve wanted for a while. I want to take care of them and keep them safe.
Owen pauses, glancing up at me. “Where are we gonna live, Ollie?”
I keep my voice easy even though I know everything is changing fast for them. “We’re gonna talk to you about that, buddy. But I think you’re gonna like it.”
He studies my face like he’s checking for lies, then nods once. “Okay.”
“Hey,” I say, opening my arms and offering him a hug.
Owen hesitates. He’s been getting too cool for hugs lately, hovering in that awkward space where he pretends, he doesn’t need them, where affection feels embarrassing instead of automatic. I still offer every time, pretending I don’t notice the shift, taking what I can get while I can get it.
I don’t push. I just wait.
For a second, I think he’s going to dodge it like he has before. Then he sighs, dramatic and put upon, like this is a huge favor he’s doing for me.
And then he slams into my chest.
His arms wrap around me tight, no half effort, no pretending. I hold him just as firmly, soaking it in, because I know these moments don’t last forever. One day he really will be too cool for this. So, I take it now. I love this kid so much.
I rest my chin on his hair and squeeze once, grateful and steady, holding on just a second longer than necessary.
I pat his back, not saying anything, giving him his moment. Iknow he needs this. Times are uncertain right now, and he needs reassurance.
He pulls back and shrugs his shoulders like he’s a big kid when we both know he’s not. But I say anyway, “You all right, bud?”
He nods. “Just worried about Poppy. I don’t want that CPS lady to take me away from you guys.”
“I know. Sometimes things have to fall apart so they can come together the way that they’re supposed to. Everything is going to be okay. I won’t let anyone take you away. And Weston is working on things.”
“Okay,” he says as he exhales a deep breath of relief.
That trust guts me, and I hate that he has to second-guess who will be there for him and give him what he needs.
Poppy appears in the doorway and watches us for a second, her expression soft and wrecked and beautiful all at once. Then she jerks her head toward her room.
“Hey,” she says. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
I follow her down the hall, and she shuts the door behind us, then pushes me back until I’m sitting on her bed.Which I very much like. Her room smells like soap and something floral and warm. The bed dips beneath me, and I grin before I can stop myself.
“Hey,” I say and wiggle my eyebrows.
She crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then sighs. “We have to talk, Ollie. Like, seriously, talk.”
She’s wearing tight black leggings and an old, faded, cropped shirt that shows a sliver of skin on her stomach, and my brain immediately forgets every serious thought I’ve ever had when I’m watching her talk.
“Okay,” I say casually, although I’m not feeling remotely serious about anything other than her right now. “Let’s talk.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “Well, fiancé, what are we gonna tell Owen? He’s gonna be so confused. I’ve been rethinking all of this. Maybe we should just come clean with that worker. Surely she’ll understand that we just panicked. I can’t make things harder right now. And right now, things feel...weird.”
