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She nods with understanding. “I know it’s a lot.”
“What happens now?”
“The judge is holding them without bail. With their prior offenses, how high they were during the robbery . . .” She trails off, but I can fill in the blanks. “They’re probably looking at some serious time.”
Years, maybe, considering everything. The thought should devastate me. It should make me feel something other than this strange sense of relief that’s washing over me. But as I stand there in the cold December air, all I can think is that maybe this is it. Maybe this is finally over.
I turn toward the line of pine trees that border our property. The silence stretches between us, and I wonder if there’s something broken inside me. Some vital piece missing that should make me care more about the fact that I might not see my parents for a very long time.
“Gage?” Trina’s voice is gentle. “Are you okay?”
I let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.” I turn back to meet her gaze. “Actually, I’m relieved. Does that make me a bad person?”
Her expression softens, and she shakes her head. “No, honey. It makes you human. Sometimes the people who are supposed to love us cause more harm than good. Sometimes relief is the only healthy response.”
Before I can respond, the front door opens and Hudson, Cole, and Lily spill out onto the porch. Hudson’s face is tight with concern, Cole’s got that protective look he gets when he thinks someone’s messing with his family, and Lily’s green eyes are wide with worry as she takes in the scene.
“Everything all right out here?” Hudson calls out, already moving down the steps.
Trina glances at me, and I nod. She’s done what she came to do.
“Just delivering some news,” she says, walking toward her patrol car. “Y’all take care of each other.”
She drives away, leaving the four of us standing in the driveway. The silence feels heavy, expectant.
Hudson crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you going to go see them?”
The question hangs in the cold air between us. Six months ago, maybe even six weeks ago, I might have said yes. Might have felt obligated to visit them in jail, to try one more time to be the son they never deserved.
“No.” The word comes out firm, final. “I’m not.”
As I say it, something strange settles over me. Peace. For the first time in my adult life, I’m not carrying the weight of their choices on my shoulders. I’m not holding space for people who never held space for me.
Cole claps me on the shoulder. “Good.”
Lily steps closer, her small hand finding mine. The warmth of her touch grounds me, reminds me of what I have now. What I’ve built. Hudson’s steady presence on my other side, Cole’s unwavering loyalty, Lily’s gentle strength—this is my family. The one I chose, the one that chose me back.
I’m not okay with how my parents turned out, how fucked up and mean they could be. But I’m no longer holding space for them. Not when I have this family by my side.
Chapter Thirty-Four
LILY
The warm glow from our Christmas tree lights dances across the living room, casting everything in golden hues. Packages spill out from underneath the massive Fraser fir we picked out together last weekend, and the smell of pine mingles with the incredible aromas wafting from our kitchen.
“Lily, can you grab the butter from the fridge?” Hudson calls from where he’s pulling the perfectly golden turkey out of the oven.
I’m already moving, my fuzzy Christmas socks sliding slightly on the smooth floor as I navigate around Gage, who’s mashing potatoes like his life depends on it. Our guests are going to arrive at any minute. Cole stands at the stove, stirring gravy and humming some off-key version of “Silent Night.”
“You realize you’re massacring a Christmas classic?” I tease, hip-checking him as I pass the vegan butter to Hudson.
Cole grins at me over his shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m in the holiday spirit.”
The doorbell rings, cutting through our kitchen chaos. My heart skips, nerves fluttering in my stomach. This is our first Christmas together as a couple.
“I’ll get it!” I call, wiping my hands on my apron.
I swing open the front door to find two women standing on our porch, both bundled in matching wool coats. The taller one has Hudson’s dark hair streaked with silver, and her smile is so familiar it makes my chest tight. I’ve seen Michelle and Kim around, it is Big Ridge, after all, but we’ve never formally met.
