Owen grins, still in awe. “Okay, yeah. Extremely cool.”
This is definitely an upgrade from our worn and weathered home. It feels fresh and new. I set my box down and take it all in. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A small kitchen. A couch that looks really comfortable.
The business is in both my dad’s name and mine. Which means the apartment upstairs is tied to it too. Not a separate lease. Not a safety net. If the shop goes under, if something happens legally, or if the bank decides it wants its pound of flesh, we don’t just lose the business, we lose the apartment. That’s the part that sits heavy in my chest every time a bill comes in late, or a repair takes longer than expected. I can’t afford to make mistakes. I can’t afford slow weeks. I can’t afford to breathe too easy. If Murphy’s Auto fails, everything fails with it.
So no, this place isn’t stable. It’s conditional and temporary. Always one bad month away from unraveling. And that’s why I never fully unpack the tension in my shoulders, why sleep never comes easy, why I keep going even when I’m exhausted. Because survival isn’t just about keeping the doors open. It’s about keeping a roof over Owen’s head.
Moving here doesn’t feel as foreign as I thought it might. It’s the shop, and Owen and I both grew up here, so it’s like a second home to us. I wish we’d have moved here sooner to be honest. It might have been easier on all of us. But I was doing my best to keep us afloat and keep the house. Now...none ofthat seems to matter. I’m not worried about losing a home. I’m afraid of losing Owen.
For the first time in a long time, my shoulders unclench, and I shake them out. I look over, and Ollie smiles at me as if he knows how I’m feeling right now, and I smile back. No words needed. Because that’s just how it is with us, sometimes, we just know.
Dinner is The Black Dog takeout, eaten straight from containers on the counter—burgers and fries with cheddar sauce. I’m living the dream. Walker and Violet sent over a ton of food as a housewarming welcome from our meal train sign up Maggie organized. Owen is setting up the smaller bedroom and immediately starts planning where his posters will go. He’s buzzing with excitement. I love seeing him so happy. Neither of us has ever lived in a nice place like this. Our house was deteriorating and needed so much work. There are only so many patches you can put on a sinking ship. Sully never made any repairs, and I could barely keep up with the shop and the house basic needs. Let alone cosmetic fixes.
I pretend right along with him. I’m so nervous every time I see Ollie’s arms flex with more boxes. We get everything out of the house and give it a quick vacuum, clean, and wipe down. I can’t leave it trashy for whoever gets it next. My mom wouldn’t have wanted that.
By ten, Owen’s in bed, door cracked, the sound of music playing softly that he listens to when he goes to sleep. I knock softly and peek my head in. “How’s the new room?”
“I love it here, Poppy,” he says sleepily.
I lean in and kiss his head that smells like Ollie’s soap from the shower and grin. “Me, too. Night buddy. Love you.”
“Love you, Pops,” he murmurs.
I shut his door and head down to Ollie’s room to see howstrange it looks with my things in the room. I didn’t have much, but it’s all here.
Ollie finishes locking up downstairs and comes back up, stretching his arms over his head like today didn’t take everything out of him.
“I’ll take the couch,” he says easily, like it’s a settled thing.
I look at him. Then at the couch. Then the bedroom.
He’s not exactly a small man. He barely fits on that thing sitting up, let alone trying to sleep on it. And more than that, this isn’t some favor he’s crashing for. This is his home. He lives here. He’s lived here long before all of this blew up.
The thought settles heavy in my chest.
I can’t kick him out onto a couch like he’s a guest or an inconvenience. Not when he’s doing all of this for me. For Owen. Not when he spent the entire day hauling boxes, lifting furniture, sweating and grunting and never complaining.
He didn’t hesitate. He just stepped in and made space for us.
The least I can do is not pretend he doesn’t belong in his own bed.
And that realization hits harder than I expect, because it’s not just about where he sleeps tonight.
It’s about the fact that he’s already given us more than I know how to repay.
“It’s a big bed,” I say. “Just don’t try to cuddle me, Ollie.”
He grins like he’s been waiting for that. “You can cuddle me if you want.”
“I don’t cuddle,” I say with a smirk.
Ollie laughs, shakes his head, and goes to the dresser, grabbing clothes. “I’m going to take a normal shower. Because I know you’re going to take longer than me.”
I snort, because honestly, he’s not wrong. I love my long hot showers, and today I earned one. “Okay.”
Then I hear the shower turn on. The sound of running water carries down the hall, and my brain immediately conjures images I do not need. Strong and broad shoulders. That sexy, unfair body that is rippled with muscles that he wears proudly.
I grab my clothes and lay them out, trying to stay busy and keep my brain from drifting to places it shouldn’t. Pretend fiancées shouldn’t think of their pretend fiancés naked and wet. Nope. I’m going to hell.
