Page 195 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“Do you mean it?”

I let out a slow breath. “With my whole heart.”

She makes a sound then, halfway between a laugh and a little choke. “You really are unfairly lovely.”

I grin. “Write that down for me somewhere. I want documentation.”

She sniffs, and I realize she might be crying a little.

That about undoes me.

“You all right?” I ask gently.

“Yeah.” A shaky breath. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I just… thank you.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and look out into the dark as if it can somehow carry me home faster.

“I’m also thinking,” I say, “that I can’t keep doing this exactly like I have been.”

“What do you mean?”

“The road. The hauls. Being gone all the time.” I swallow. “If I’m serious about building something with you, I need to start acting like it.”

“You’d change your whole life?”

“For the right reasons? Yeah.”

“That’s a lot.”

“You’re a lot,” I say. “And I happen to think that’s a good thing.”

For a moment, all I hear is the soft static hush between us.

Then she says, “Come home safe.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I will.”

After we hang up, I sit there for a long time, thinking about routes, about money, about logistics and fear and identity and love... and how none of it comes with a map worth a damn.

But under all that noise, there’s a steadiness now.

Direction. Purpose.

Dad’s right. I don’t need to see the whole road tonight.

Just the next turn.

And somewhere in Redwood Run, there’s a woman with freckles across her nose and too much weight on her shoulders trying not to collapse under it. Somewhere out there are two men I trust with my life and a little boy who gives out star ratings like gospel. Somewhere there’s a version of the future I never used to let myself picture for more than a passing second.

A home.

Maybe mine.

Maybe ours.

I’m done treating Redwood Run as someplace I just pass through.

Whatever comes next, I’m building it here. And much to my surprise, that doesn’t feel like I’m losing freedom.