June took a breath, visibly calming herself. “Now we make sure this doesn't get worse. Helen, don't engage with the media. Don't confirm anything. If they corner you, say 'no comment' and walk away. We've contacted local police about potential harassment if they trespass or follow you.”
“How long before they leave?” Cal asked.
“If we stop giving them material? A week, maybe two.” June looked at Mom. “Helen, I recommend staying inside for the next few days. Don't answer the door. Don't check your mailbox when they're out there. Make them bored, and they'll leave.”
“I can do that,” Mom said steadily.
June turned back to me and Jace. “When you leave, you go out the back. Separately. At least an hour apart. No more photos of you together. Are we clear?”
“Clear,” I said.
“Good.” She picked up her bag. “I'm staying in town for twenty-four hours to make sure this doesn't blow up further. If anything changes, you call me immediately. And for god's sake—stop making my job harder.”
She left with her assistant, and the house felt quieter without her.
Mom served lunch—sandwiches and soup, simple and comforting—and we sat around the kitchen table like a normal family. Cal told stories about the firehouse that made Mom laugh. Jace asked questions about my childhood that I deflected with varying success. It felt surreal and normal at the same time.
After lunch, Jace helped Mom with the dishes while Cal pulled me aside.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you look like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He studied my face. “Grant, Mom's fine. The media will leave. June's handling it. You can breathe.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He crossed his arms. “Because from where I'm standing, you're still waiting for someone to tell you this is all too good to be true.”
I didn't have an answer for that.
“He's good for you,” Cal said, nodding toward where Jace was laughing at something Mom said. “I can see it. You're different. Lighter.”
“It's complicated.”
“Everything worth having is.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Just don't fuck it up by overthinking it.”
“When did you get wise?”
“I've always been wise. You just never listened.”
That night, after the media had finally thinned out and June had confirmed the immediate crisis was handled, Jace and I sat on Mom's back porch while she and Cal watched TV inside. The air was cold, our breath misting in front of us, but it was quiet. Peaceful.
“Your family's great,” Jace said.
“They are.” I pulled him closer. “I'm glad you got to meet them. Even if the circumstances were shit.”
“At least now we've both survived the family gauntlet.” He rested his head on my shoulder.
I pressed a kiss to his hair. He laced his fingers with mine. And sitting there in the cold, with my mom and brother inside and Jace beside me, I let myself believe it.
CHAPTER 28
HOMECOMING
JACE
We'd been back in Toronto for two days. The flight from Calgary had been quiet, both of us exhausted from the media circus. But the distance hadn't helped.
