Page 83 of Plain Sight

“Where?”

He doesn’t tell me, the Protective Dad bastard.

But the turns keep getting more and more and more familiar. My heart keeps doing an out-of-rhythm jumpjumpjumpPOUND thing that makes me think I might hurl.

“Mason. Tell me what the fuck is happening,” I demand instead of throwing up.

“Be patient.”

“Fuck no.”

“You’re going to teach Robin to say the word fuck, and then it’s going to be your fault.”

“He can’t even say the word dad. Calm down.”

“You calm down.” Mason reaches over the center console and pats my hand. “We’re almost there.”

The last few turns stop my heart.

And then he pulls into the driveway of our old house.

It looks just the same as it did.

Better?

There’s fresh white paint. Cherry red door. I can see us all there, almost as real as a hallucination, but it’s just a memory—it’s a memory of the family portrait in Mason’s living room, with three-year-old Remy in my dad’s arms and all of us beaming.

“Mason.”

“Come on, Jamie.”

He gets out of the car. I follow him on numb legs. Gabriel and Elise pull in behind us, Nate and Lydia after them. Sunshine lifts Robin out of his seat, cooing to him. Lily climbs down and slips her free hand into mine. Snowball tweets excitedly in his cage.

“This is just—” Holy fuck. Holy fuck. “For. The party?”

“Just for you.” Mason holds out a set of keys.

I take the keys. “You’re actually kicking me out.”

“No, I’m not.” His green eyes—pretty much the same as mine—are serious. “You don’t have to move if you don’t want to. I just thought you might like it. It’s good for kids. And…” He glances at the house. “We could have some outdoor brunches. Switch off weeks with Gabriel, if you wanted.”

Pain flashes across my chest.

“Is it—” I can’t breathe. “On the inside, is it⁠—”

Mason grins. “Go see.”

The house is just how it was, but better.

Same color floors. Polished hardwood. Similar-ish walls, but fresh paint.

“Dev helped,” Mason mentions. “Somebody had done some fuckery to the stairs, so I had them restored.”

“Holy shit.”

“I hope—” He winces. “I thought you’d want it how it was. Sorry if that was a bad assumption.”

I give him an enormous, too-tight, choking hug, partially because the moment calls for it and partially because I have to.