Page 65 of Unwanted

I was grateful they’d all stayed together, despite me leaving.

Grabbing my duffel bag, I drag it across the center console and climb out of the car. Choosing to leave my suitcase in the car till later, I take a quick look in each direction, jog across the street, and walk up the long drive. I pull out my set of keys and thumb through them until I find the right one.

Standing in front of the wooden door, I stall before opening it and going inside. I’d spent the better half of this week warring with myself about whether or not moving back here was a good idea, but I couldn’t seem to come up with a good enough reason not to.

I wanted to be here for my brother, and I wanted to see this thing with Arlo through. And I couldn’t do either of those things from Seattle.

Sliding the key into the lock, I expect to be met with nothing but silence when I push the door open, but a chorus of voices shouting “Welcome home” greets me almost immediately.

“Holy shit.” I drop my duffel in the doorway, completely caught off guard. “I didn’t think anyone was gonna be home.”

My eyes dance around the room, noticing Remy, Clem, and Lennox. My stomach drops at Arlo’s absence, but I remind myself he told me he’d be at work today and I wasn’t originally expecting any of this.

The expression on my face must mirror my internal deflation because Lennox steps closer to me, his voice lower than usual. “He said he was sorry he couldn’t be here but wanted to make sure you didn’t walk into an empty house.”

Nodding, I stick a smile to my face and raise my hands to sign “How are you?”

Lennox’s gaze darts between my lips and the movement of my fingers. “Good. Kind of excited to have you home.”

My smile widens and I awkwardly point to my chest and then put up two fingers. “Me too,” I enunciate. “Me too.”

“I made your bed,” Clem interrupts. “Even though you’ll probably end up in Arlo’s by the weekend.”

“And I got you a welcome home present,” Remy adds. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

My mouth drops and my gaze darts between the three of them. They’re all smirking at me, even Lennox.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argue. Reaching into my pocket for my cell, I avert my gaze and type out a quick text to Lennox, purposefully avoiding Clem’s scrutiny.

Me: They’re giving me shit about Arlo, and Remy said he got me a welcome home present.

Lennox: I know, Clem gave me a heads-up.

Me: A heads-up about what? What’s the present?

Lennox: I think she plans on playing matchmaker. And I’m not spilling the beans on the gift.

Huffing loudly, I keep typing.

Me: Playing matchmaker is totally unnecessary.

Lennox: Because you’re already a made match?

I raise my eyes to meet his, and he’s already smirking at me, the light in his eyes enough to have me okay with being the butt of their jokes.

Day by day the communication between Lennox and the rest of us has improved, whether it be sign language, lip reading, or the very dependable text message. And the humor and banter between us all right now is proof of that.

My phone vibrates in my hand and another text from Lennox appears on the screen.

Lennox: Just admit it, Clem’s right. You’ll be in his bed before you know it.

Me: That’s not what I’m here for.

Lennox: Doesn’t mean it won’t happen.

As I’m busy tapping away at my screen, Clem sidles up beside me, undoubtedly reading the exchange.

“Just let it happen,” she teases. “We know you both want to, and Remy’s gift will definitely get you two in the mood.”

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