There's a noticeable shift between Austin and I after the meeting with Reed. It's small, but it's there, and I guess it's kind of understandable after the way he verbally spilled his guts to me. It's no surprise that the vulnerability we've shared with each other, and only each other, brought us closer.

Deep down, I know that I've never actually doubted Austin's intentions, I was just nervous about them. I doubted that someone like Austin could ever want me. My brain and insecurities tried to tell me that he only offered me a position at Vice because he felt sorry for me, but deep down I think I knew that there was more to it. The kindness that he's shown me from our very first meeting, the unwavering trust in his gaze, the need to know more and get closer...

Austin was empathetic, and as much as I tried to act like I wasn't, I knew that I was too. I cared so deeply for others, even when they didn't deserve it, even if they didn't reciprocate the same energy, and I'd been raised thinking that it was pointless to care, so I kept it disguised as a collage of bitter emotions that blossomed into the self-loathing and doubt that I'd become so accustomed to.

Austin and I were more alike than I realized, and because it was him, the man who'd not once let me doubt his true feelings for me, I wasn't scared anymore to actively show emotion and let him know that I care, and it's safe to say that he feels the same.

It felt freeing to know that we were both on the same page. We didn't have to have the whole "So are we boyfriend and girlfriend?" conversation, because we both knew that there was no one else. We both felt things for each other that others might whisper "It's too soon," at, but the way in which they happened left no doubt in my mind that they were real.

And it felt liberating to finally let go of that doubt and guilt. I deserved to be happy, and Austin made me happy. And now I knew that it wasn't just a one way street; we found solace and comfort in each other that we'd unknowingly been searching for. We were in each other's corners, because we knew what it felt like to have no one else there.

That's why I wake up to Austin wrapped around my body like a koala the next morning; his head resting on my lower stomach (which is clothed in his t-shirt) and his tattooed arms firmly hugging my thighs.

I thought it was calm and content before without the sound of broken whiskey bottles meeting cheap linoleum at the ass crack of dawn, but nothing else could quite compare to the gentle sound of my ceiling fan whirring steadily, barely covering the sounds of Austin's light snores.

Waking up next to him felt like home.

Careful not to wake him up, I slowly ease out of his grip and make my way out of bed. Once my feet touch the soft, shaggy carpet, Austin immediately rolls onto his stomach, hugging my pillow to his side.

For a moment, I silently admire the art that adorns his arms and the the toned muscles of his bare back, still reeling over the fact that someone so beautiful is in my bed. And that he's mine.

I quietly tip-toe out of my bedroom and go about my morning routine, brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower. Not long after, I make my way to the kitchen, giddily admiring how nice and clean the living room now looks as I walk past it.

Last night after we made beignets, (which somehow turned out edible? Go us.) Austin, Sav, and I deep-cleaned the living room, making sure to Lysol and Febreeze the hell out of the couch and happily toss the giant, ugly ash tray that mom kept on the coffee table. We even hung up a few framed pictures that I'd snagged for cheap from the Goodwill. The walls no longer looked empty and instead were minimally decorated with framed photos of purple Irises, the Tennessee state flower. It brought a small pop of color that surprisingly brightened up the room and made it a hell of a lot less depressing; something that I'd never felt in the entire twenty-one years that I'd spent in this very house.

It's funny how life in general got a whole lot more bright once Austin entered it.

In a good mood, I start the coffee maker and happily switch on the trusty radio sitting on the counter and jam along to Matchbox Twenty while I gather the ingredients for banana pancakes. I hum along to Rob Thomas' smooth, heady voice, and the lyrics to "Push" echo softly around the kitchen as I watch tiny bubbles form on the batter that sizzles on the griddle.

Warmth presses at my back, and I'm momentarily stunned as Austin's arms move around my waist, caging me in between his body and the stove. Both of his palms skate underneath my baggy t-shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hands rest on my stomach, and I'm almost positive he can hear the steady thump of my heart beat, if the grin he presses into my neck is any indication.

"You woke up without me," He murmurs softly, pressing a wet kiss on my pulse point.

I bite back a grin and begin flipping the pancakes. "I was hungry."

The arms around my body squeeze gently, pressing me even further into his chest.

"Smells good," he says. "Coffee?"

I crane my neck and eye the coffee machine. "Done, help yourself."

Austin moves away, and I instantly feel cold. I finish flipping the pancakes, quickly transferring them to a paper plate while he rummages around in the cabinets to retrieve a mug.

Minutes later, we're seated at the kitchen table stuffing our faces.

"This reminds me of my mom's buttermilk pancakes," Austin says. "Even made her own caramel syrup to go with it."

"She liked to cook?" I ask gently.

Austin grins. "Loved it, and was damn good at it too. She roped me and Reed into helping a lot, and was one of those parents who made us wash our hands every time we touched an ingredient. She even wore a hair net when she cooked," he laughs.

I smirk. "She made you wear one too, didn't she?"

"I'm neither confirming nor denying that statement."

I picture Austin standing in the kitchen, a hair net pulled over his head and I can't help but giggle.

"You got plans today?" Austin asks, pushing his empty plate forward.

"Sidney and I are going shopping. I still need to get some party supplies and decorations," I say, licking a drop of syrup off of my thumb.

"Need a ride?"

"Sidney's picking me up, but will you give me a ride to work tonight?"

Austin smirks. "We're going to the same place, so yeah."

"Geez, just checking," I mutter, rising from my chair with my empty plate in hand.

Austin reaches out and snags me by the waist, pulling me onto his lap. I yelp, fumbling to keep my grip on the flimsy paper plate.

"You almost got a lap full of syrup," I accuse.

"Thank you for last night," He murmurs into my hair.

My chest flutters. I lean over and kiss his cheek. "It was nothing. Are you gonna go see Reed today before work?"

Austin sighs. "Yeah. I owe him an apology."

I set my plate on the table and turn sideways, bringing my left arm around his shoulder. "Just tell him how you've been feeling, and why you feel that way."

"Will you be there when I read the letters?" He asks quietly.

I cup his face with both hands, his stubble scratching at my palms. Looking him in the eyes, I say, "Whenever you're ready, I'll be there."

——

"Jesus Christ, Sid," I yell as she slams harshly on the brakes. I brace myself against the passenger seat of Lincoln's truck, one hand clenched firmly around the "Oh, shit" handle above me.

My best friend waves her hand, brushing me off. "Stop yelling, you're fine."

I watch as an SUV speeds past us, the passenger cursing at us and flipping the bird from his window.

"I should've taken Austin up on his offer for a ride," I mutter.

Sidney snickers, turning the wheel sharply to the right. "I thought you already did."

I lean my head against the head rest, head spinning. "Good one," I say dryly. "But actually no, we haven't taken any rides yet."

"And why the hell not? Have you seen him?"

"Many times now, yes."

"Wait, didn't he sleep in your bed last night?" She demands. "And you're telling me nothing happened?"

"That's literally exactly what I'm telling you."

We come up on a stop light and Sidney slams the breaks again, the truck lurching forward sharply. My seatbelt nearly chokes me as my body flies forward with the motion.

In a horrified tone, she asks, "Are you a virgin?"

At that, I laugh loudly.

"Not even close," I snort.

"Then what's the problem? As I said, Have you seen him? That man is fine with a capital F."

I shrug, an amused grin on my lips. "We're already moving fast as it is, with the whole "You take care of everyone else, let me take care of you" thing. When the time is right, we'll..."

"Fuck?" She supplies.

"Yeah, that," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Sans turning signal, Sidney sharply swings into the parking lot of FiveBelow, throwing the truck in park. She turns in her seat, eyeing me. "For the record, I think y'all are moving at an appropriate speed. The way you two look at each other... there's no denying the chemistry there. But waiting could be fun, too. Prolong the pleasure, ya know? So that when you do bump uglies, it'll be even more-"

"Sidney." I deadpan.

She flashes me a sheepish grin. "Right. Got it. Not my place."

We both laugh loudly, clumsily clambering from Lincoln's tall-as-fuck truck.

Walking through the automatic sliding doors into the welcome AC feels like walking into the gates of heaven.

"I fucking love this store," Sidney sighs happily, grabbing a shopping cart.

I grin as Sidney races off to the party supply section, childishly riding on the cart with her arms extended outwards. Together we scan the shelves, throwing in birthday-themed paper plates, cups, party hats, photo booth props, and balloons.

"Lincoln's cousin has a helium pump at his house, so we can bring it over before the party starts," Sidney says.

"Sweet, thanks."

Something dawns on me. "Oh yeah, so are you two moving in together now, or what?"

Sidney grins, her eyes lighting up. "We're moving his stuff into my place after Halloween. Do you think you and Austin would be free to help move furniture for us?"

I smile. "Yeah, I'll ask him. How's the wedding planning coming along?"

Her nose scrunches up. "I never realized how expensive weddings are. We're thinking of just going up to the justice of the peace with a few close friends and family. That's you, by the way."

I squeeze her hand. "Just let me know what day and I'll be there."

Her attention shifts to something down the aisle. "Ooh, feathered boas," She croons. "Can we get them?"

"Of course," I laugh, grabbing a pack of cute heart shaped sunglasses and throwing them into the cart just for the hell of it.

Today, it feels as if my grin is permanently etched on my face, and my cheeks hurt from all the smiling. I woke up next to one of my favorite people, got to catch up and spend the day with another one of my favorite people, (even though her driving definitely needs some work), and I'm able to plan and put together a surprise birthday party for the last of my favorite people. The list is short, but I don't care.

It's days like today where I'm reminded of the good people in my life and how thankful I am to have them here. The people who really love me. The people who actually deserve my love, time, effort, and energy.

From here on out, they were the only ones who were getting it.

——

Later that day, after I've stowed the party supplies in the back of my closet, a text flashes across the screen of my phone, letting me know that Austin is on his way to pick me up for work.

Dressed and ready in a dark black v-neck t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and my trusty black converse, hair curled, I lean against the counter in the bathroom, carefully applying mascara to my lashes.

I'm screwing the tube closed when the front door opens and slams shut. Confused, I turn the light off and walk down the hall.

"Sav?" I call out. "I thought you had to work tonight?"

I stop in my tracks when I round the corner.

My baby sister is on her knees, loudly sobbing into her hands.

Alarmed, I run towards her, dropping to my knees as well. "Savannah," I say frantically, grabbing her hands.

"Aria," she chokes out when she realizes it's me. She launches herself into my arms clinging to my body.

I gather her against my chest, confused, heart pounding. "Savvy, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"They're trying to take me away," She cries. "They want to take me away from you!"

My heart stops. I pull back, holding Savannah by her shoulders. I brush her hair out of her face, dark brown tendrils stuck to her tear-stained cheeks.

"Savannah, breathe. What are you talking about? Who's trying to take you away?"

She frantically reaches for her backpack that lies discarded at her side. She unzips the front pocket and hastily shoves a business card at my chest.

I flip it over and my world completely stops.

On the cardstock, in bold print, it reads:

"I won't l-let them," She hiccups. "I turn eighteen in four days. I'll run away. They won't be able to find me."

"Savannah," I choke out. "Where... how...?"

Sav wipes a hand across her cheek. "They visited me at school and pulled me out of eighth period," She cries, her voice cracking. "Said she received a call and wanted to talk to me one-on-one before she did a home visit. Are they gonna take me away?"

My heart drops to my stomach and tears prick at the backs of my eyes.

"No," I croak. "No one's taking you away. Come here."

I gather her back in my arms, and together we cry on each other's shoulders in the middle of entryway.

"No one's taking you from me," I murmur over and over into her hair. "You're not going anywhere. It's gonna be okay."

And I fucking mean it.

Over Sav's shoulder, I eye the business card that lies on the carpet. My eyes run over the phone number and address that seem to gleam up at me tauntingly.

I mentally square my shoulders, preparing for battle.

A voice in my head teasingly whispers my mother's name at me, and my body fills with rage so sharp and hot that I feel the need for bloodshed.

She crossed the ultimate line, but there's no fucking way she's winning the war that she unconsciously started.

She's fucked with my family for the last time, and over my dead fucking body will Savannah be walking out of this house, our house, without me next to her.

Game on, Maeve.

——

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