Page 64 of Unwanted

“To move in?”

He shakes his head, a small humorless laugh leaving his mouth. “No, I’m not asking to move in with you.”

My jaw tightens in irritation. “Did Lennox have it wrong? You don’t want to move in?”

Expecting him to bite back with a quick no, I’m surprised when it doesn’t come.

“Well?” I press.

He scratches at his temple. “What do you want me to say?”

I huff. “Ideally you wouldn’t say it as much as you would tell me.” I changed the tone in my voice to mimic him. “Arlo, I’m moving back home because I still pay rent there and I need a place to stay.”

Frankie’s head jerks back “Does everyone know I pay rent?”

“It’s the worst kept secret,” I state. “I know you covered my rent when I was in rehab and then some. I know you feel obligated to pay Lennox’s way, and while I don’t agree, he’s your brother, and it’s between you two and I respect that.”

Mara returns with two large glasses filled with Coke. She places them down slowly, then pulls two covered straws from her apron pocket and drops them between us.

I reach for one, unwrap it, and stick it in my drink before continuing. “But did you really think I wouldn’t follow up with the realtor once I realized we were all still paying the same amount when one less person lived with us? And I know you probably felt guilty, or maybe you kept paying your portion because you didn’t really want to leave and you still thought of it as your home.”

I still as soon as the words leave my mouth and Frankie narrows his eyes at me. “What is it?”

“I think I just had an epiphany.”

“And?”

Tilting my head, I stare at Frankie, amazed that I was too hurt and full of blame to see what was right in front of me.

“Why did you pay the rent?” I ask almost rhetorically. “You left with nothing more than the clothes on your back. Were you planning on coming back? Or did you almost want it to feel like you never left?”

Frankie watches me intently, either trying to read my mind or waiting for me to catch up to what he already knows.

“I think I always planned to come back,” he says. “But the more time passed, the harder it became.”

Frankie moves our drinks to either side of the table and leans forward, placing his hand over mine. “It didn’t matter if I took everything or nothing with me to Seattle. No place has ever or will ever feel like home without you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken so candidly since coming home and I hoped it wouldn’t be the last, but it made my breath hitch nonetheless.

Swallowing hard, I talk past the wedge of emotion that’s lodged in my throat and weave my fingers through his. “So, will you move in?”

His gaze drops to our hands. “You said we’re taking this one day at a time,” he reminds me. “And I don’t want to blur those lines. I don’t want to impose on anybody’s space.”

Dragging my hand out of his hold, I place my forefinger underneath his chin and tip his face up. “I don’t care about anybody else’s space. I just want you in mine.”

21

FRANKIE

Parked on the street, I stare across the road at the house that embodied my former life.

In this house I was a brother, a best friend, a boyfriend.

When Arlo and I aged out of the system we rented a few shitty places before we could afford one that would house the five of us.

It wasn’t the best looking house on the street or in the greatest neighborhood, but for kids who had been moved around their whole lives and made to feel unlucky and unwelcome, this was stability. Four walls and a roof was safety, longevity, and love.

I always wondered why none of them had moved out or moved on, even Remy and Lennox, who were both in college, never wanted to live on or closer to the campus. But being here for the first time in four years, I was grateful they were still here.

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