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Brock stops in front of a closed gate, and I watch as a man walks out from what appears to be a little guard shack. I’ve never seen anything like this before that wasn’t a gated community in town.

The man is dressed much like Brock, in blue jeans and a leather vest. Brock talks to him, and he jerks his chin, then turns his head and his eyes find mine. The stranger’s lips twitch into a smirk before he turns around and jogs back to his little shack.

When the gates slowly open, Brock lifts his hand and waves it forward as if he wants me to follow behind him. I do—both more nervous and curious with each inch I drive forward.

The road is long and crunchy beneath my tires until it finally opens, revealing a makeshift parking lot with a gray concrete-brick building. It’s huge and at least two stories. Brock rides up to the front, and I guide my car and park beside a pickup truck.

There are only about six pickups and cars in the parking area, along with another half a dozen bikes. In the distance, behind the concrete building, is another building. It looks more like a barndo or metal shop or something.

I don’t get to look around any further because my door flies open and I look over and up to see Brock standing beside me, his hand extended. I slip my palm in his, and he helps me to stand, then, before I can even close my door, he’s got the back one open and the baby carrier out of the car.

I start to ask him what’s going on, but I don’t get the chance. He’s already walking toward the cement-block building. He stops at the door, his fingers curled around the handle, but he doesn’t open it.

Instead, he turns his head, and his gaze finds mine. “It’s time for you to meet the people I consider family, or at least some of them.”

I have a million questions, concerns, and worries swirling around inside my head right now. Like maybe this wasn’t the smartest choice I’ve ever made. Walking away from my parents’ stable home and into the unknown.

Well, stable is subjective.

They had a home that we could live in, and I didn’t have to worry about paying rent or anything, which was the stable aspect.

Personally, stable is another story.

My mother has always been in her own world, shut off from reality and living her best life, cocktail in hand while she did it. My father always facilitated that. It was the norm.

Maybe it is normal, and I’m the weird one because that life never suited me. I don’t mind working for something and watching the fruits of my labor grow. But that didn’t quite work out for me the way I’d hoped, either.

So maybe I am the weird one after all.

“You’ve met my parents, and they don’t like you. What’s the worst that can happen here? I meet them, and they don’t like me?”

Brock snorts. “I know they’ll like you because I like you, a hell of a lot.”

I can feel my cheeks heat from his words. I can’t hide my smile, either. No matter how hard I try, it consumes my face. A hell of a lot. Wow. I don’t know why Brock says he’s new to dating or any of this because he seems really smooth to me. Maybe even a little too smooth.

“Now come on. Let’s get you girls out of the heat.”

You girls, like we’re his girls. But we are, aren’t we? I’ve never felt like someone’s girl before. I know that sounds really off, especially since I have a father and Brock isn’t the only guy I’ve ever been with, but this is so different from anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life. I just don’t know how to categorize it.

When Brock opens the door to the building, I decide I’m not going to categorize shit. I’m going to live it instead. I’ve taken a gigantic leap of faith. Whether it’s stupid as fuck or the best thing I’ve ever done, I’m not quite sure, and I probably won’t know for a while.

But I’m here. I’ve packed a bag. I’ve packed Thea’s bag. And I’m walking into this building with a man I hardly know, but he’s also the man I made a whole human with, so hopefully this works.

And if it doesn’t, then maybe we can get to a point where we have a mutual respect for one another and be friends so we can raise our girl together.

Though, if I’m being honest, I know my personality. I can be petty, and I highly doubt I’m going to wish him the best if he hurts me. I’m going to wish him the absolute worst and wait for karma to completely annihilate him.

I walk past the open door, step into the dark room, and pause at the sight in front of me. I don’t think I realized what this place was, but I didn’t imagine it would be… a bar. But that’s exactly what it is.

The music fills the room. It’s a low-playing rock song. I can’t hear the lyrics, but I can feel the music in my chest. My gaze slides across the room, and I take everything in. There’re darts, a pool table, some sofas, and pub tables in the main area of the space.

Then there is a real wood bar, with barstools and glass shelves behind it filled with alcohol. A few dark hallways lead off the main space, and a staircase. I don’t focus on the people, though. There are quite a few, and they’re all staring at me, so I try not to let my gaze linger in hopes that maybe they’ll shift their attention to something else.

They don’t.

Turning my head, I watch as Brock walks up beside me. He clears his throat and the music suddenly dies down. “Hey, everyone. I’d like you to meet my old lady, Keely, and my daughter, Thea.”

Silence.