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“Retirement is starting to feel less like a vacation and more like boredom,” he says, gathering the pieces of cardboard. “I hope I’m cut out for this.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine. But you do need to find a hobby or something.”

He nods, lifting the broken-down boxes and carrying them to the garage. As soon as he’s gone, I sit back and sigh.

The living room is filled with light, thanks to the tall windows facing the lake. Sunny’s toys are scattered everywhere, and pictures hang on the walls and sit on the mantel. A fuzzy blanket that Layla bought when she, Branch, Poppy, and I went to the Water Festival earlier this year is tossed over the back of the couch.

A soft smile touches my lips.

Seeing this makes me so happy for Branch and my sister. They’ve built a warm home, created a beautiful family and a wonderful life for the three of them. It hasn’t been easy, but they’ve stuck together, and the payoff is all around me.

I sigh again—deeper this time.

This is what I want in life. A real home. A happy family. I want to build something tangible that has nothing to do with statistics or trophies.

And for a while now, Poppy has completed that picture. I just didn’t realize she was so far away from seeing it, too.

“So,” Branch says, coming into the room. “This threat you made to Pop. You gonna be able to follow through on that?”

I pick up a small piece of wood and chuck it at him. He dodges it easily, and it lands on a chair.

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t an ultimatum, either. It’s a challenge.

Poppy doesn’t believe things just because she hears them. She has to see them. Experience them. So if I have to suffer the effects of not having her in my arms to prove that our connection is deeper than she’ll admit, then I will. She’ll try to tempt me into giving in—goading me with pictures and videos, touching me every time she can when we’re together. And that’s fine. It’ll suck, but it’s fine. I’ll hold my ground. Because once she realizes that she’s my person whether we’re fucking or not, I win.

At least, that’s the game plan.

I’m calling her bluff and hope I’m right.

Because I’m not really sure what I’ll do if I’m wrong.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Poppy

“For the fifth time, yes,” I say, popping Mom on speakerphone.

I open my shopping app. Finn’s coffee maker has been on the outs for weeks, and he refuses to buy a new one. When I was not sleeping at three this morning, I found a great deal on a fancy machine that he’ll love but would never buy. So I did.

“You bought the vitamins, and you’ll take them?” Mom asks.

“Yes. For the sixth time.”

Mom blows out a breath, and I can hear the frustration in it. “Fine, fine. But please do it, Poppy. The doctor reiterated how important it is to take supplements—especially as we age. I think we all need to be on the regimen that he prescribed for Grandma. It’s thorough, and the brand is pharmacy backed. This is important.”

Yeah, but we all don’t need a supplement for macular degeneration.

“I love you,” I say. “And I appreciate your ever-present concern for my health. But I think I’m doing pretty well for thirty-one, and that it might be useful for you to spend more of your time making sure that you don’t roll the fabric cutter wheel thing over the tip of your finger⁠—”

“Hey—”

“Or pull a box off the top shelf in a way that means they all topple onto your head and give you a black eye. Or when Grandma tosses you the remote from across the room, you actually turn to catch it instead of waiting until the last minute so that it hits you in the chest and practically throws you into cardiac arrest.”

I was there for the last one. She nearly gave me a heart attack with her dramatics.

Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, after all.