I tried to keep my victory dance to myself. I scooped Storm out and placed him on the ground, then helped Hawk out of the wagon. I walked hand in hand with them up to our neighbors, who were sitting in their driveway on lawn chairs with a bucket of candy in between them.
“Can you say trick-or-treat?” I asked the kids.
“‘ick ‘eat!” Storm shouted, waving his candy bucket in front of him. Hawk stayed quiet.
Thankfully, they didn’t make a big deal about it and happily handed the treats out.
My phone buzzed as I was walking back to the wagon. Once the kids were safely seated, I pulled it out and couldn’t help but smile.
It was Koa, and he had snapped a candid of Cruz with his little friend. Cruz had chosen to go as Ghostface, which had Koa secretly crying. His friend was another character fromMinecraft—that was apparently the popular thing for boys this year. They were standing in front of a house that was gaudily decorated, and both looked down into their candy buckets with matching grins. Somewhere along the way, they must’ve gotten glowstick necklaces because they both had them on.
Hubby: How’s everything going with the wild crew? Rue overhyped on sugar yet? Cruz is having a great time. I’m trying not to cry.
I heart emojiied both the picture and his post, then sent a reply with a string of heart and crying emojis, mainly because I knew it drove Koa crazy.
Then I sent him all the pics I’d taken back at the house before snapping one of the twins dabbing in front of the next place. That was answer enough.
Things had been good since that night we’d kissed. I hadn’t even realized how stressed Koa had been, holding his true feelings to his chest all that time, until he no longer had to carry that burden. He was freer now.
Not much had changed besides that. We’d fallen back into our old habits easily, even after the week of avoidance. Just, we’d added kissing. On the lips and sometimes with tongue. Sometimes making out like teenagers on the couch. I had to say, I had really been missing out.
I had been doing some research on my sexuality since that conversation, but I was no closer to figuring anything out. Koa had suggested that maybe I was asexual, and possibly? I couldn’t say anything for sure.
Even when Knox had told us he was bisexual last year, I hadn’t put one thought toward how I felt. Koa had been able to talk to him and abate any of his concerns, and that had been good enough for me. What kind of twenty-five-year-old had never even thought about this shit?
I had to keep reminding myself that there was no pressure for more. No hurry for me to figure out my feelings for Koa. I knew he was my person. That there would never be anyone else. If that meant I was romantically in love with him, then I guessed I was. I didn’t feel the need to define it more than that.
I didn’t have much time to think about my existential crisis while keeping up with four kids, and the rest of the night was spent focusing on them and attempting—poorly—to monitor their sugar intake.
After nearly two hours of trekking around the neighborhood, I was exhausted. Storm had fallen asleep on my shoulder, and Hawk was halfway there himself. He was back in the wagon and had asked for his headphones about ten houses ago. Even as his head kept drooping in exhaustion, he still held possessively onto his candy bucket. It was so cute that I snapped a picture. But I knew I had to get them both home soon.
“Alright, gang, it’s time to start walking back!” I called to the twins.
“Oh, c’mon!” Rue pouted. “One more house, please?”
“Nope. Y’all got enough candy to last a year, and the little ones—and I—are ready to go home. I bet Cruz will be back soon too. You can see what he got and trade for the stuff you like.”
That seemed to be enough to satisfy them.
“Can I pull the wagon?” Bel asked.
“Yeah, okay, but you gotta watch out for other people, okay? No running over toes, please.”
“Okay!” Bel happily picked up the handle of the wagon and started racing back with Hawk, a little faster than I would’ve gone.
I was a little shocked when Rue took my hand and began walking with me, but also secretly thrilled. These moments were coming less and less with the twins, and I cherished every second of it.
My phone rang when we finally got back on the block. “Hey, Rue, can you grab my phone out of my pocket? It’s probably Koa telling me he’s on his way home.”
Rue used his free hand, shoving it in my pocket and pulling out my cell. He frowned when looking at it.
“It’s not Koa.”
I let go of him so I could take the phone and answer, “Hello?”
“May I speak to Riot St. James?”
The words were a trigger I had no idea I had. Many phone calls had started like this in my lifetime. From the cops when they’d arrested my mom to a social worker when they’d needed me to take in a sibling, from the hospital when Mom had snuck out of the house with an infant Rumor and totaled her boyfriend’s car with him in it. Dozens of times, I’d heard this greeting, and it almost always meant something was horribly wrong.
