Page 37 of Loco

“I’m not going to confuse them, Roque,” I said softly. “But I think I should move back to my place or stay with my parents for a little while to give you space to settle them in. The bath’sbeen removed from my living room, and the electricity’s back on. They’re coming to start on the plumbing tomorrow before they fix what needs to be done structurally. It’s been fast, but I hit gold with my insurance company, and the contractors started immediately. I’ll be okay over there, and if not, there’s always my parents’ or Heidi’s.”

His expression dropped—like that thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Youdon’twant me to go,” I guessed.

“I hate the idea,” he admitted. “I need you. I just… I didn’t think that would meanlosingyou, even temporarily.”

“You’re not losing me.” I brushed my fingers across his cheek. “I’ll still be here, Roque. I’ll help with everything—getting the house ready, settling the kids, whatever you need. But they’ve been through hell. Bringing them home to a stranger living under the same roof might be too much and too soon. It doesn’t have to be forever, just until they know they’re safe.”

He nodded slowly, and I saw the flicker of understanding in his eyes for the first time. This wasn’t about us falling apart, it was about giving those kids a chance to heal, and I’d do whatever it took to ensure they got that.

Even if it meant stepping back for just a little while.

I’d takena few days off from the salon—something I rarely did—to monitor the work happening at my house. Between the plumbing repairs and the water damage, there was enough tokeep the contractors busy for a couple of days, which meant I finally had time to do something useful at Roque’s.

Right now, I was sitting cross-legged in one of his spare rooms, surrounded by half-opened boxes and scattered packing paper, wondering how the hell one man could have so many coffee mugs and hoodies. The room was a mess—organized chaos, really. The kind that said someone had started unpacking, gotten distracted by something more important, and just never circled back.

It wasn’t his fault, we’d all been distracted. A snowstorm, structural damage, us, grief, and now, two little ones coming to live in this house that still smelled like wood polish and bachelorhood.

Thankfully, most of the boxes were easy. It was mostly books, kitchen gadgets, and random clothing items that just needed to be folded and stored. Nothing sentimental. Nothing heavy. It was the kind of mundane domestic stuff I could sort without getting pulled under emotionally. I’d promised Roque I’d take care of it while the contractors were busy at mine, and I intended to follow through.

Besides, it needed to be done—especially if Kaida was going to have her own room, given that Kairo’s hadn’t had anything in it anymore as we’d already unpacked it all.

The moving company was scheduled to arrive later that afternoon, bringing the kids’ beds and a few familiar things from their old home. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I wanted them to walk into this house and feel like it couldbetheirs, even if just a little bit at first.

By noon, I’d emptied the last box, folded the final hoodie, and cleared out the space so Kaida’s room could become something special. The room looked less like a storage space and more like a bedroom now. It made my chest ache and swell at the same time.

Once I’d vacuumed and double-checked the floor for rogue screws or packing tape, I grabbed my keys and headed out. The mall was about half an hour away, but they had a home store with a massive post-storm clearance sale. I was on a tight budget but figured I could stretch it further if I was smart.

It turned out luck was on my side. An extra twenty percent off already marked-down prices, and even better, the kids’ bedding section was included.

For Kaida, I found a soft pink comforter set with a ballerina pig on the front—twirling in a tutu, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. It felt right. For Kairo, a fireman puppy with wide eyes and floppy ears, the kind of thing a little boy could clutch while trying to feel brave. I even found matching beanbags in their favorite colors—at least, according to what Roque had told me—and a couple of soft cushions that matched the bedding.

As I was about to leave, I spotted an Aurora Borealis projector on the clearance shelf. I grabbed two. If they were going to sleep in unfamiliar rooms, maybe a little Northern Lights magic could help.

I left the store feeling productive, if not a little worn out. My arms were full of bags, and my brain was still mentally checking off lists. I was already picturing where to put the beanbags, where the projector would be best placed, and whether we’d need nightlights, too.

I didn’t notice them until I was halfway out of the store—two men standing by the mall’s sliding doors. Both were in thick black coats, black skull caps pulled low over their brows, and hands shoved into their pockets.

At first, I thought they were just cold, waiting for a ride or lingering after shopping, but they didn’t move as I approached. They just stood there, watching me.

“Excuse me.” I kept my voice steady and polite.

Neither of them said a word or moved, they just looked me up and down like I was something they were trying to figure out. I shifted the bags in my arms and repeated it, sharper this time. Eventually, one stepped to the side, and the other followed, just a second too slow.

I walked past without looking back, but my skin prickled the whole way to the car, where I quickly went to the back and started loading the bags into the trunk, still mentally arranging the kids’ room in my head. The bedding would need to go straight into the wash as soon as I got back. I wanted everything to smell clean and feel soft when they curled up in their beds.

It suddenly hit me: the projector could go on the dressers, angled toward the ceiling. Maybe I’d grab some little wall decals next week—stars, animals, or something cozy once I’d gotten to know their likes and dislikes. And I still needed to pick up some storage bins for toys. If I had time, I’d run back out again tomorrow or this afternoon.

I was so focused on running through my to-do list that I didn’t even think to look at my car as I got into it. Thankfully, it had one of those systems that alerted you to an issue, which it did as soonas I turned the engine on, showing me there was an issue with the pressure in the rear right tire.

Cursing, I got out and checked on it, hoping the system was wrong. Sadly, it was as flat as my chest in eighth grade.

Pulling my phone out, I figured it was time to use the AAA membership I paid so much for. To be fair, the car hadn’t come kitted out with a spare. That’d been extra, which I wasn’t paying on top of AAA, which would come in more useful in the long run. It wasn’t just tires that went kaput in cars.

Twenty minutes later, with the AAA guy crouched beside my car, I heard a low whistle. “Well, this didn’t happen on its own,” he muttered.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

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