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Loyalties die when we let them. Some we cling to, not knowing how to let go even though they drain us, turning our lives into something unrecognizable. Other times, we hold on to a promise long after it’s not required anymore, just in case.

“I don’t pick up chicks at bars,” I tell him, standing up. “Come on. I have a proposition for you, and I’m thinking you’ll want to stop at the hardware store after you hear it.”

His eyebrows rise. “For…?”

I smirk as I turn to leave.

“What about this green?” Liamasks, pointing at a can.

We’ve been in the middle of aisle nine for the past thirty minutes. The last time I helped him pick out spray paint, we spent our entire lunch break here, debating color choices. I don’t know why I thought the process would go any faster on our second go-around.

I lean down and swipe the can from the shelf. “Is there a real difference between this and that?”

He wheezes out a laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously? One’s hunter green, and the other is forest.”

“Oh,” I say dryly. “My mistake.”

“You’re sure about this?” Liam moves toward the oranges. “Because once I tell Keaton we have a house to move into, she’s going to do her squeal.” He looks back, dead serious when he says, “And we don’t fuck around when it comes to the squeal.”

“So you’ve said.”

He continues staring me down, waiting for confirmation. I don’t blame him for being skeptical. The idea to let him and Keaton live in my mother’s house went from concept to offer in the same amount of time we’ve spent in the hardware store.

But while my father’s wife was trying to dry-hump me in my office chair, I had an epiphany. A moment of clarity I should have had weeks ago. Or months even.

I’d been ready to leave everything in Phoenix behind for Bennett. No hesitation, I would have gone with her that weekend, never questioning the decision. I told myself it wasbecauseof her, of how much I loved her, but I was using her as an excuse to do what I really wanted. She was my chance to escape all the parts of my life I couldn’t walk away from on my own—promises made to dead people. Love gave me permission to break them. Except I never needed her to be the reason.

My sanity is enough. My happiness.

“I’m sure,” I say. “We’ll figure out rent, and whenever you two are ready to buy, we’ll subtract what you’ve paid.”

Leaving the business won’t be as easy. Even after the lawyers settle everything, Miles laid out a succession plan in his trust to be sure it stays in the family. I might be ready to move on, but I won’t abandon Shane and Liam to deal with Greg swooping in because of some loophole. He’d dismantle everything if given an opportunity.

Liam’s fingers trail along the cans, closer and closer to the glow-in-the-dark paint he chose last time. He picks it up and turns to me with a shrug. “No point in remixing a classic.”

I shake my head, walking away, and call back, “Until your name is on the deed, spray-painting shit on walls is over the second I give you the keys.”

While Liam pays, I play with a display of key chains. The mass amount of cliché sayings hanging from the hooks makes me want to roll my eyes. Cheesy or not, I slide one off and toss it onto the counter with the can. My cousin shoots me a look as the clerk swipes it, but he stays quiet until we reach the parking lot.

He tosses over my purchase. “Are we pretending I didn’t just buy you a key chain that saysKeep Dreamingin giant, pink-sparkle letters?”

“Yep,” I say. “Unless you want to be evicted from a house you haven’t moved into yet.”

Holding his hands up, he backs around the front of his truck. “Nope. Collect all the eleven-year-old girl shit you want.”

I tuck the key chain in my pocket, where it stays until that night when I lay it on my nightstand. Then, in the morning, it goes back in my pocket. We keep reminders of what matters most close to us. Especially when the real thing will always be out of reach.

Bennett

LA.

Marco might have threatened my life if I didn’t move here with him, but he hasn’t needed a single one of his Krav Maga classes to convince me to stay. The merging of styles and people and the sounds coming from around every corner is intoxicating.

My time spent snapping pictures of houses in Colorado morphed into a gig of photographing food at restaurants around the city. The pay is decent, and they send the food with me afterward. Marco and I taste our way around the globe out of carryout boxes in our one-bedroom loft and return to exploring on our days off. We’re in our Portland groove.

Within the first week, he brings upDarkest Desires. “So, if you really finished the book, are you a Denton or a Daphne?”

“Denton,” I answer fast.

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