Page 17 of Promise

Home.

Tomorrow I’ll approach Trin with a clearer head . . . maybe.

Because my heart is wrecked in a new way. One I can’t fully process as thoughts come at me in fits and dribbles. How? When? Who?

“Go back to Florida,” Tate mumbles, taking another sip of his beer but not disguising his irritation.

“You can crash on my couch,” Hutch offers, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Thanks, man. It’s only for tonight.”

Suddenly, it’s like I’m a teenager again. The lost boy in the lot of them. The one without a family, who roamed from house to house, avoiding home.

You’ll never amount to anything, just like your parents. I didn’t want my grandfather to be right.

And I never wanted to be a burden to my friends or their families. But that’s what made these guys special. None of them ever treated me like I was putting them out. They’d been by my side, offering their homes, giving me their brotherhood. Hell, the Havens gave me the longest stay, allowing me to share a room with Tate for our entire senior year of high school.

Russell and Mary Haven were afraid I’d drop out otherwise, and I might have, if not for their kindness.

I can’t think about Trinity’s parents yet. Her father was gone before I left, but I don’t know how I’ll face her mom.

But first, I need to face Trin again.

Tomorrow.

I’ll be waving a yellow flag, a warning to proceed with caution.

A crash was on the track up ahead.

Me. I am the wreck.

6

[Trinity]

Ihated how I hated that Dart had disappeared last night, but it was a good reminder that he was as unreliable as a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

The morning progressed like a well-oiled machine, as in no structure. I woke when Mirabelle cried out, fed her a bottle, then snuggled with her a bit before attempting to clean. Laundry was suddenly a daily necessity, and bottle washing was constant. I needed to get to the store and⁠—

The distinct clatter of a metal ladder stalled my mental list of things to do. I glance at the ceiling as if I can see through it to where the noise is coming from. Everything in me says don’t panic, but I rush up the staircase to my bedroom, double-checking all was well with Mirabelle in the bassinet.

Then I hear a thump on the roof, like Santa decided to visit early, followed by the distinct thud of someone walking above my head.

“What the . . .”

Leaving Mirabelle sleeping, I race down the stairs and yank open the front door with enough force that it slams against the interior wall. I am only slightly gentler with the screen door that makes a distinct crick.

Rounding the house, when I probably should have been calling the police, the sharp rip of shingles being torn from my roof hits my ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout at the intruder who thinks breaking into my house by going through the roof is a viable idea.

Within seconds, Dart is standing on the edge of the roof, two stories up, staring down at me. A god on a mountaintop gazing down at a minion.

“I’m replacing the roof,” he shouts down, like the situation is obvious.

I don’t need him to fix the roof, even if I had been trying to get my brothers over here for weeks. What was the point of them owning a home exterior company if they couldn’t put family first? Then again, I would be getting the lifetime guarantee of free service along with a friends and family discount on roofing materials.

“You’re going to wake Mirabelle.”