A/N: Oh sad! Last chapter! But it's a good one! And long too. Aren't you proud of me? I now you'll all love it, because I do. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Place to Belong

Jake

The house I appear in front of isn't anything fancy. I glance around quickly to make sure I haven't been spotted – wouldn't want to break the Statute of Secrecy or anything like that – before turning to study the home more thoroughly.

It seems harmless. It's a plain brick house, two stories, black shutters, a little lawn. There's a black car parked in the driveway, something nondescript that wouldn't draw more attention than deserved. I stare at the front door uncertainly though, unwilling to get any closer. All of my burning anger seems to have abandoned me.

The longer I stare at the house, the sadder I start to feel. Unbidden, the thought that this could have been my house creeps into my mind, and I suddenly start seeing things I like about it.

The front walk up to the door isn't perfectly straight like it is at Gran's – it curves through the yard, not seeming to follow a particular path. There's a large tree at the corner of the property, shading most of the small front lawn, making the entire place look more inviting. Gran's house doesn't have any trees in front of her house, which has always seemed to make it more intimidating for some reason. The front door is red – not bright red or anything, more like a burgundy, but I like it. Gran's front door is white, matching every other speck of trim in the house.

Any one of these things would have made the place good enough; all of them combined seem to make it perfect. I start up the brick pathway to the front door, determination winning out over all of my other emotions.

I barely hesitate when I reach the front steps. I take a deep breath and press the doorbell. I can hear it echoing throughout the house, ruining my impression of the tiny, coziness I've been imagining inside.

As I wait for someone to come get the door, I suddenly find myself wondering what the hell I think I'm doing. There must have been a reason my father – this Nicholas Foster – left; if he didn't want anything to do with me then, what would make him want me now? This is a mistake. I should leave.

Panicking, I start to turn to leave, suddenly very grateful that no one has answered the door yet. I'm not quite down the front steps however, when I hear a voice behind me, and I freeze.

"Can I help you?"

I turn to see a willowy blonde woman standing in the doorway, looking at me with a curious, though slightly guarded look on her face. My pulse takes off double-time, and I'm instantly at a loss for words.

"I-I…"

"Yes?" she asks a bit impatiently, looking like she'd enjoy shutting the door in my face right now. I take another deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Does Nicholas Foster live here?" I ask, just to make sure. She stares at me suspiciously.

"What do you want with him?" she asks evasively, but by her tone I can tell that he's here. Following the pattern of my rapidly changing emotions, I'm immediately desperate to see him.

"Can I see him? I'm … I mean, I really need to talk to him," I say. I instinctively feel that telling this woman I'm Nicholas's son would be a mistake, so I don't say anything more.

She glares at me as though needing to talk to his man is personally offending to her. "I'll go get him," she says shortly, shutting the door. I can hear her footsteps ringing against the floor as she walks away.

They make me wait so long that I'm nearly ready to give up after seven minutes of standing there, feeling like an idiot. Two minutes after that I decide that if I'm going to be here much longer, I might as well be comfortable, so I settle onto the concrete step to wait.

After nearly fifteen minutes of waiting – during which time I note that there's actually a tree house up in that big tree; I feel a twinge of jealousy toward whoever it belongs to, as Ron would never let Sean and I have one, afraid we'd fall and kill ourselves or something, as if we weren't endangering our lives playing Quidditch every day anyway – a loud sigh accompanies the sound of the door opening behind me.

I jump up, nervous again, my heart hammering against my ribs once more. But it's just the same woman as before, still glaring at me distrustfully.

"He's busy," she says coldly. "He doesn't have time."

I can't even feel offended at her rudeness. Desperation takes over again. "Please," I beg, unwilling to leave. "Please, it's really important. I've been waiting for so long…" I trail off, staring at her pleadingly. She huffs slightly, looking annoyed.

"Wait here."

It doesn't take nearly as long this time. Barely two minutes pass before she's opening the door again.

"What do you want with him?" she asks impatiently. I bite my lip. I can't just tell her.

"It's…private," I try, but she looks unmoved. "Tell him… tell him my name is Jake. And I'm not leaving until I speak to him." I don't know if it will help or not. Nothing in her expression changes, but she turns and walks off again, this time forgetting to shut the door. I stare down the hallway after her uncertainly.

The hall is dark, and I can feel cool air flowing out of it, a nice respite from the hot summer sun. The floors are some sort of dark wood, polished to a shine, very unlike the dull, lighter wood of the floor in Ron and Keira's house. The walls are dark as well, and I can see the outlines of four matching black picture frames hanging in a perfectly spaced diamond farther down.

There are doors lining the left side of the hallway as well, all of them shut. The staircase leading up to the second floor is immediately to the left on the way inside, and I can just catch glimpses of a sitting room off to the right. At the very end of the hall is another door, presumably leading out to the back yard, and I can see the very edge of the kitchen counter to the left of the back door.

I'm not sure I like this dark, cold house. Gran's house is the most severe contrast – warm, definitely, but also completely white inside. I hadn't ever realized it was so bright before now. And the Weasleys' house was always painted such warm colors – soft browns and yellows, or off-whites. Nothing like this.

Before I have time to evaluate anything else, a door opens halfway down the hall. The woman steps out, looking worried. She casts me a strange look before disappearing farther into the house. A few seconds later a man emerges from the open doorway.

He scowls in annoyance as he makes his way toward me, and I shrink back automatically, nervous and shy all of a sudden.

"What do you want, kid?" he growls when he gets closer. I don't know what to say. I can only stare at him, shocked and unexplainably fearful of this tall, dark man. He peers at me just as suspiciously at the woman, squinting down at me.

"You're Nicholas Foster?" I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. He rolls his eyes, and I take that as a yes.

"Yes, I'm the man you've been annoying the hell out of for the last half hour. What do you want?"

"I'm Jake," I start, earning myself one of those 'do-you-think-I'm-stupid?' looks. I wince.

"We've covered this already. You have yet to tell me what you're doing on my doorstep. I'm busy, and I have a lot of work to do," he snaps.

"My mother's name is Annabelle Parks," I whisper. His expression changes abruptly, and he's suddenly staring at me in shock. I start to hope that maybe I've gotten through to him, but the shock quickly evolves into anger.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" he demands, his face clouding. "Did she send you here just to mess with me or something?"

"Huh?" I'm confused. Why would Mum want to mess with him? I don't want to mess with him; he seems almost dangerous.

"This isn't funny. You can go home now, kid. I'm not interested."

What does that mean? I feel my heart drop. Mum was telling the truth; he wants nothing to do with me. I start to turn away, disappointment spreading through me, cancelling out the initial confusion and surprise.

"Sorry for bothering you," I murmur, my shoulders slumping. I shouldn't have come. I try to remember why I even wanted to find him in the first place, but I can't remember anymore.

"Wait." His hand catches my shoulder, and I flinch, but he doesn't let go. I look up at him, trying to keep my face expressionless. He stares at me cautiously, seeming to study my face for a long, tense moment.

"Are you really Jacob Parks?" he demands. I nod, trying to squash the hope rising up again. It won't do me any good; he doesn't want me.

"Your mother is really Annabelle?" I just nod again. He glares at me.

"If you're lying about this, I swear to God, I'll-"

"Why would I lie about it?" I mumble, feeling a twinge of indignation. A thoughtful expression crosses his face.

"I'm not sure," he says, more to himself than anything. I just wait. Finally, he looks at me again. "Really?" he asks, this time more hopeful than demanding, sounding rather like a child receiving an unexpected privilege.

"Yeah," I say, half shrugging. "Really."

"Come inside," he says, suddenly brusque. He turns and stalks down the hall, and I follow immediately, shutting the door behind me. I feel a sliver of unease at the sudden darkness, but I push it away, turning into the still-open door after Nicholas Foster – my father.

He turns back to face me once we're inside, his face very different than that of five minutes ago.

"Do you realize that I've believed you to be dead for fourteen years?" he asks, his face urgent and distraught. Completely unrelated to him, I feel a surge of resentment toward my mother, who couldn't even be bothered to remember my birthday, while this man has been keeping track of the years all this time. Then his words sink in, and I stare at him.

"Dead?" I echo, confused again. "I'm not dead."

He laughs slightly. "Well, I can see that." I manage half a smile back at him.

"Why did you think I was dead?" I ask, tilting my head. Something in his eyes flickers at my movement, but it's gone quickly, and he's talking before I can wonder what it was.

"You were…kidnapped," he says carefully, eyeing me as though afraid I'll break down or something. I can't stop the laugh from escaping, though I feel bad about it.

"Kidnapped?" I ask in disbelief. I can't help grinning at him, but when he continues staring at me sadly, the smile fades. "She told you that?" I ask, understanding with a feeling of dread, clinging to a small hope that I'm wrong.

"She came home from a trip to the city one day absolutely distraught. Said you'd gotten separated from her in a store, and that she couldn't find you anywhere. We waited a week; when no word came, we assumed the worst. The next day she was gone, and I haven't seen her since," he says stiffly.

I know my mum is vindictive and horrible. I just haven't realized how much so until now. Nicholas Foster stares at me sadly, and I stare back in disbelief.

He's the first one to break the silence. "I…I can't believe she would…"

"I can," I interrupt harshly, sneering unintentionally at the thought of my mother. I laugh humorlessly. "You know, I grew up knowing she was an irresponsible, vindictive, lying bitch," I start, and he flinches slightly again at the anger in my voice, "but for some reason, I never questioned her version of how I ended up with the Weasleys. I should have known from the start that it was all another lie," I say softly, sadness welling up inside of me again. I swallow against the lump in my throat.

"Weasleys?" he asks, looking puzzled. I smile; it must sound like a strange, made-up word to him; he doesn't realize how the Weasley family is known pretty much everywhere in the wizarding world.

"The family she left me with," I explain. Understanding dawns before quickly turning to anger.

"She just left you with some random family?" he asks. I feel instantly defensive of the people I consider my own family.

"No; she knew them – or, Keira anyway. She didn't know Ron, I guess. She and Keira had been friends once, I think. They're good people; they kept me and raised me. They loved me," I object, and he seems taken aback by how emotional I am about them.

"At least they were there," I continue, almost spitting the words at him, angry again. "They remembered my birthdays and made sure I had presents on Christmas. They treated me like I belonged. They never abandoned me."

"Jacob, I never abandoned you," Nicholas says softly.

"You didn't exactly send out a search party for me either," I remind him, and he winces.

"I thought you were dead!" he exclaims.

"You just gave up on me!" I yell back. "You never even tried! I thought you hated me."

He stares at me, open-mouthed. "How…did you really believe that?"

"I was five. I didn't know that my mother was a conniving liar with her own agenda. I just wanted my parents back," I tell him, and guilt washes over his face.

"The Weasleys are the only family I have ever known," I continue quietly. "I love them."

Nicholas Foster stares at me for so long that I start to wonder if he's about to kick me out or something. Finally he steps forward. I take a step away from him automatically, but his expression softens, and he continues forward. I eye him warily as he steps up in front of me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?" he whispers, and I'm absolutely floored at the sight of tears in his eyes. "How many nights I've stayed up, wondering if you were alive, if you were okay, somewhere out there still, scared and lonely? Do you know how many kids your age I've looked at in the streets, wondering if they could be you? Can you even comprehend how much I love you, Jacob, even after all this time?"

"No," I whisper back. "But I know how much I've missed you; does that count?"

He lets out a small chuckle. "It counts for everything, son." He pulls me into a one-armed hug. It doesn't last long, but it's enough for me. It's more than I could have ever hoped for.

.x.

"What sort of work are you doing?"

I grimace at the question. "Nothing life-changing," I say reluctantly. "I work at a bookstore."

Clara Foster laughs at my expression, and Nick shoots her a look. We've been sitting at their dining room table for twenty minutes, and they've been questioning me almost nonstop.

It took a few minutes for Nicholas to explain everything to his wife, and to introduce us. She apparently already knew about me, so we just had to fill her in on the fact that – surprise! – I wasn't actually dead, and that my mother was a vindictive bitch who thought only of herself (though of course he phrased it much more politely).

Clara seemed to take an instant liking to me after that – she apologized immediately for treating me so coldly before and practically tied me to my chair and nearly force-fed me her homemade bread – which I have to admit is really, really good.

So far, we haven't gotten to any really important questions – we haven't come anywhere close to the fact that I'm a wizard, which Nick is probably already aware of anyway, and I haven't mentioned Summer or Danni yet.

"Tell me more about these Weasleys," Nick says now, and I wince. I don't want to talk about them. "I want to know more about these people who raised my son," he adds, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at him.

"They're great," I say dismissively. Clara casts me a speculating glance, and I try not to make a face.

"That doesn't tell me much," Nick says with obvious disapproval.

I sigh. "What more do you want to know?" I ask a bit more harshly than intended. He frowns, searching my face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie automatically. "I'm fine." I've been telling people that for three weeks now, and it just comes naturally to my lips. Neither Nick or Clara look as though they believe me. I notice them exchanging a glance, and I feel a flicker of annoyance.

"Let's talk about something else," Clara suggests gently, laying a hand on her husband's arm as he opens his mouth to continue questioning me. He nods, looking reluctant at the change of subject.

Clara turns to me and smiles, her kind eyes glinting playfully. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

I feel the blood drain out of my face at her question, and I have to swallow against another rapidly growing lump in my throat. I fix my gaze on the dark wooden tabletop, following the grains in the wood to keep my eyes busy.

"Jacob?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I say hollowly, refusing to look up at them. I can just imagine the bewildered looks they're giving each other, and it only causes another wave of grief to wash over me.

"What happened?" Leave it to a woman to keep talking after you've made it clear that you don't want to discuss something. I know I'm being unfair to Clara, but it's hard to think straight as that final vision of Danni lying in that hospital bed swims in front of my eyes.

"Nothing," I say in an extremely unconvincing tone. I grimace slightly at how … dead my voice sounds.

"Jake…" Clara's cool hand reaches out and touches mine, and I jerk it away reflexively. From my peripheral vision I see that she doesn't move her hands from their extended position. I put my own hands in my lap.

"Jacob, is everything alright?"

I swallow again, not blinking, tears burning my eyes. "No, I don't have a girlfriend," I say, trying to keep my tone level, but my voice shakes, giving me away. I clench my teeth.

"Did something happen?" asks Clara, her voice soft and careful. I still can't look at them. I just shrug, knowing that if they have any experience with kids, they'll take it as a yes, the way adults always seem to.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Nick asks just as carefully. I wonder randomly if they have any daughters, as they sound rather as though they're trying to comfort a girl whose boyfriend just broke up with her. If the sight of Danni wasn't still burned across my vision, I would laugh at the comparison.

"It's a long story," I murmur. I chance a quick peek at their faces. Clara is staring at me with a very understanding, almost pitying expression, and Nick is just waiting. I sigh, looking back at the table.

"Don't jump to conclusions," I warn them before I start, knowing that to tell the story correctly, I have to start way back before my first year at Hogwarts, when I met Aria. They nod agreeably, so I take a deep breath and start off.

I explain all about how Aria fell on top of me the first time we met, editing the story slightly so that she's tripping over me coming in the door rather than shooting out of a magical fireplace. They both laugh slightly at that, and it brings the tiniest of smiles to my face.

Before explaining about Hogwarts, I bite my lip and glance at Nick. Surely he knows about the magical world if he was involved with my mum for so long. But does Clara? I shoot a look at her to see her waiting patiently for me to continue. I take a leap, deciding she would find out sooner or later anyway.

"How much do you know about magic?" I ask Nick directly. I can see a perplexed expression take over Clara's face out of the corner of my eye, but Nicholas is staring at me thoughtfully.

"Only what Anna shared with me," he says, shrugging. I wait for more, not sure exactly how much she shared with him. He must understand this, because he keeps going. "I don't know. I mean, she told me how her mum taught her; she showed me some stuff every now and then. It seemed like a very easy solution to most problems."

"What on earth are you two talking about?" asks Clara, looking thoroughly confused now, and slightly skeptical as well.

Nick sighs. "If you would just go along with this for now, I promise Jacob will explain later," he says. I have to smile at him making promises for me, though I nod in agreement. Clara shrugs and rolls her hands to tell me to continue. I sigh.

"Most…magical kids go to a boarding school called Hogwarts when they're eleven," I start. I continue to explain my first year of Hogwarts with Aria and Sean, and how Aria seemed so determined to find out something about her father. I tell about the strange, awkward Christmas we shared, and how I overheard Ron and Harry discussing Ron's lingering love for Aria's mum. Clara's eyes widen in surprise, and I nearly smile again. It does sound sort of like some sort of soap opera.

I skip over most of the rest of the school year, fast forwarding to the day Aria's mum died … in a car accident, I think, unable to miss the irony. I feel my voice harden while I talk about that, and I see my father and his wife exchanging another concerned glance.

"Aria had a really tough summer that year," I say softly, remembering how angry and depressed she was. "It was hard for her to adjust to living with us, especially after finding out that one of her best friends was actually her brother. She seemed to prefer Sean's company to mine though, at least for those few weeks." I don't go into the sort of history they have in common, which I figured out later was probably why Sean was so understanding of Aria that summer.

"I've sort of always felt something … more than just friendship for Aria," I say softly, staring hard at the table again. "I never dreamed she felt the same way," I say with a bitter laugh, glancing up at Nicholas once more. "I thought she was too good for me. I thought she deserved someone better than me." Turns out I was right.

I shake my head, sighing. "Last summer… I don't know. Right before school let out, I suddenly decided… I wanted to find you," I tell him, and his expression softens slightly. "I didn't tell Aria right away, especially not after Sean told me she wanted to spend all summer with me. Eventually I had to though...tell her I mean. She… didn't take it so well," I sigh.

Remembering Aria's pleas not to leave, I feel my stomach twist uncomfortably. I wince and put my head in my hands.

"I love her," I say quietly, hating myself for it; for all the heartache I've caused her. "And she…" I trail off, remembering Aria's last desperate attempt to get me to come home after telling her about Danni. She said she loved me. I shake my head and start the story again.

"I had to go though. I mean… I've spent fourteen years not knowing who my father is," I whisper. "So I left. She was … heartbroken. I felt so awful… But then… man, then I really screwed up," I moan.

"What happened?" Clara asks, her voice all hushed and eager. I bite my lip to keep from snapping at her that my life isn't a juicy book or one of her favorite television programs around for her enjoyment.

"I made things so much worse," I say quietly, not able to meet their gaze. "I went to go see Mum, which in itself was a mistake-" I pause to allow for Nick's snort of amusement before continuing, "- and I found a picture of her mum… and sort of accidentally ended up Apparating right into her front lawn."

"Apparating?" asks Clara, puzzled again. Nicholas waves a hand at her dismissively.

"Later." He nods at me to keep going.

"Gran was – is – really good to me." I see both of their eyebrows raise at my correction, but they say nothing. "She gave me a place to sleep, and she's pretty much been taking care of me for an entire year. Anway, she had-" I have to swallow again at the past tense, blinking hard, "-this neighbor girl – Danni – and I … we got to be pretty good friends. And then … more than friends. Anyway, one day, Gran was out, and Danni and I kind of fooled around …" I shake my head and groan.

"And Aria found out?" Nick guesses. I nearly laugh. If only it were that simple.

"Worse," I say softly. Both sets of eyebrows pull together in a 'how-could-it-get-worse' expression. "I got her pregnant," I whisper, looking down. I hear Clara gasp, and Nicholas inhales sharply. I clamp my teeth together, emotions running amuck; old feelings mingling with still fresh ones, causing a big whirl of pain and confusion. I focus all of my energy on not crying.

"Well," says Nick, his voice slightly higher than before. "Well."

"Yeah," I mumble. "I…I went back to tell Ron…after I found out. Aria overheard."

"I bet that was an interesting conversation," Clara says, the softest edge of sarcasm in her voice. I frown unhappily.

"She wanted me to come home. She wanted me to abandon Danni. And then she told me she loved me," I whisper.

"Vindictive," Nick murmurs, and my eyes snap to his face, defensive, my rebuke already on my tongue. He sees my expression and backtracks immediately. "She just wanted you home; I get it. I'm sorry if I offended you." I watch him staring at me worriedly, as though suddenly afraid I'll storm out in anger. Fat chance of that.

"So… what happened to Danni?" asks Clara. I feel my expression close down automatically. With my eyes on the wooden surface of the table, I can just see the speculative look in her eyes as she watches me.

"She died," I say tonelessly. Pity fills her expression again, and it surprises me when I don't feel any resentment towards her because of it.

"When?" Nick asks gently. I grit my teeth, refusing to blink again.

"Three weeks ago."

"Oh." That's all Clara says. But that tiny word is filled with so much emotion and sympathy that it causes tears to come rushing to my eyes. I blink against them, but several manage to escape anyway. I don't bother to wipe them away.

"What about the-the… I mean, your…" Nick trails off awkwardly. He means Summer. The thought of her makes me smile, just a little.

"Her name's Summer," I tell him, and both of them relax visibly. I can tell they'd assumed the worst.

"Where… where is she?" asks Clara, looking at me searchingly as though I've got her hidden in my coat or something…if I was wearing a coat that is. I smile at that thought.

"At home with Gran. And probably with Kaitlyn as well." I explain about working with Kate at the bookstore, and how she treats me like a little brother. They exchange a smile, and I can't help doing the same.

"Well, we'll just have to meet those two, won't we?" Nick says with a grin. I smile back, relief and warmth spreading throughout my chest, loosening the knots hardened there by grief and pain. He wants to be part of my life. Mum was lying. He does care about me.

"And you'll have to meet your sisters," Clara adds, nudging her husband. He grins, nodding in agreement.

"Of course. They should actually be getting home from school any time now," he says, glancing at his watch.

"Sisters?" I ask, curious now. How many? How old? I almost laugh at my thought about them treating me like a daughter earlier. I was right after all.

"Erin and Grace," Clara says. "Erin's sixteen and Grace is ten."

"Speak of the devil," Nick exclaims as the sound of the front door opening drifts down the hall. "Girls?" The footsteps stop.

"Dad?" a voice calls back. I feel the tiniest sliver of jealousy toward the girl at how simple it is for her to address him that way. I don't know if I ever could; or if I would even be allowed to.

"Come in here a minute." Nick winks at me. "I want you two to meet someone."

I hear a slight grumbling from one, her sluggish footsteps starting down the hall, but the sound is soon overlapped by a quicker pattering. A small girl with dark brown hair comes running into the room. She stops suddenly at the edge of the room and slides the length of the dining room in her socks, grinning the entire time. She slips to a stop just beside my chair, and grins at me.

"Hi! I'm Grace!"

I have to laugh. She beams at me, and I can't help but notice her smile; it's rather like the one I used to see in the mirror every day. This only makes me smile more.

"What is it?"

I look up to see a taller, older, blonder girl leaning against the wall at the edge of the room, looking annoyed at having been delayed to escaping to her bedroom, I'm sure. She eyes me expressionlessly. I pick up on the obvious resemblance to her mother, as opposed to Grace's features, which are so much more like Nick's … and mine.

"Grace, Erin, I want you to meet someone very important," he starts off, and I have to work hard not to grin at him. His expression turns thoughtful for a moment. "Come sit down," he suggests. Grace takes the seat next to me immediately; I can't help but smile at her again. Erin rolls her eyes and meanders to a seat next to Clara, as far away from me as she can get. I try not to feel offended.

"Erin might already know this story-"

"So can I go?" she interrupts. Nick glares at her.

"No. It's still important. Now, when I was younger – before I knew your mum – I fell in love with a woman named Annabelle Parks," he starts off. Erin sighs loudly and slumps in her chair, looking bored out of her skull. Everyone ignores her.

Nick gives the abbreviated story of the one Gran told me, adding on the bit about believing me to be kidnapped and dead, and about Mum leaving him.

"And then who should show up on my doorstep today but Jacob Parks. My son. Your brother. I bet you didn't even know you had a brother," he finishes, talking to Grace now. She shakes her head, her eyes wide. Then she glances at me.

"You're my brother?" she asks, and I can't stop the chuckle from escaping. She grins.

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" I say. She looks up at me with innocent gray eyes, full of a familiar, complete trust that I don't feel I've earned, and my thoughts flash to Summer, asleep and safe back home.

"I've always wanted a brother," she informs me. "I think it would be nicer than having a sister," she adds.

"Grace!" Clara scolds. The girl just shrugs. I'm reminded of Abby Weasley, though of course by now she's nearly fourteen years old. It makes me sad to think that I'll miss her birthday again this year.

"Cool. Whoo-hoo. I'm totally psyched. Yay. Is that all you wanted?" Erin asks, already getting up. Clara sighs, and Nick rolls his eyes. Grace doesn't even glance at her, and I deduce that this is normal behavior for Erin Foster.

"You can go," Nick says, and she walks off without even looking at me. I try to ignore it.

"You'll get used to her," Grace says confidently, slipping her little hand into mine. "Can I show him my room?" she asks. Clara shrugs, and Nicholas nods. She jumps up, pulling at my arm earnestly.

"Come on, Jacob!" she urges. I have to laugh again. I comply and allow her to drag me up the stairs. I can hear Nick following behind, and I turn my head to grin at him. He smiles back in amusement.

The upstairs is a major contrast to the first floor. Instead of dark wallpaper, the walls are painted a calm mint green, and there's a light tan carpet instead of hardwood floors. Grace pulls me into the first door on the right, and I feel as though I've stepped into a giant lavender bubble. Everything is purple, from the carpet on the floor to the light fixture on the ceiling.

"Is purple your favorite color?" I ask as she leads me over to the bed and attempts to shove me into a sitting position. I hear Nick chuckle from the doorway, and I shoot a look at him; he only laughs harder.

"Yes, how did you know?" Grace asks in all seriousness, but I can see the playfulness in her eyes. I grab her and tickle her stomach. She dances away, giggling.

"You're way more fun than my sister," she informs me. She turns to look at her – our father all of a sudden. "Is Jacob going to move in with us?" she asks, tilting her head to one side. I have to hide a smile at our shared habit, and I suddenly understand the flicker of emotion that went through Nicholas's eyes earlier when I did the same thing.

He looks up at me, and I realize what Grace just asked. I feel my face heat up slightly, wanting to admonish the girl for bringing up such awkward topics. But she wouldn't know any better.

"I don't know, Gracie. That's sort of up to him," he says carefully. I stare at him. Is he really inviting me to live with them after only knowing me for a couple hours? He raises his eyebrows in question.

Grace turns to me, her eyes pleading. "Oh, please, Jacob? Will you stay? Then you can see me every day and we can do all sorts of fun things together! Haven't you always wanted a little sister, huh, Jacob? Please?"

I laugh and ruffle her hair playfully. She doesn't duck away like Abby used to. She just keeps looking at me hopefully. I look back at Nick.

"I dunno, Grace."

"It's fine with me," he murmurs. I manage half a smile at him.

"Maybe we should get to know each other a little better first," I suggest. I see something like disappointment flit through his expression, but he just shrugs.

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

"I just don't want to completely bail on Gran. And Summer still doesn't sleep through the night; I wouldn't want to wake up the entire house or anything," I explain, the excuses jumping readily to mind.

"Summer? Whose that?" asks Grace, tilting her head again.

"My daughter. Bet you never guessed you'd get a brother and a niece at the same time," I say, and her eyes widen.

"You have a daughter? How old is she?" she asks eagerly. I imagine her envisioning her new best friend, and smile a little ruefully.

"She's only a couple months old; she's still really little. But I bet she'd like you."

Grace grins. "I want to see her! Dad, can we meet Summer?"

"Sure, we can meet Summer," Nick agrees easily, smiling at me. I nod.

"I'll bring her over sometime," I promise.

"Tomorrow!" Grace demands. Nick shoots her a warning look, but she doesn't see.

"Jacob might be busy tomorrow," he says, but I smile at them both.

"It's fine. I get off work at three thirty. I could be here by five. If that's okay with you." I tack the last part on as common courtesy, but Nick just shrugs.

"Fine. I have to work tomorrow as well, but Clara will be here. I should be home around five thirty or so. Will you eat with us?" he asks hopefully. I shrug.

"Sure."

"Yay!" Grace exclaims, throwing her arms around me. I freeze for a second before hugging her back, not used to such enthusiastic affection anymore. She hangs on for a long moment before finally releasing me.

"I like having a big brother," she announces.

"Well that's good, 'cause I think he'll be sticking around for awhile," Nick says, chuckling. The warmth spreads from the top of my head all the way down to my toes at his words, and for the first time in weeks, I feel truly content.

I've finally found the place I belong.

A/N: Aw, it's over. No guarantees on when I'll get FT4 up and running. I want to do a total timeline/outline to start with, and then I have a little more detail planning I want to do. So it might be awhile. Plus, I really want to finish GFHH, as it's been ongoing for so long now. So don't gather the torches and pitchforks and hunt me down if it's not out for awhile. At this point it might not even be out until Christmas, if even then. I really want to take a break to focus on GFHH. It's been my secondary story for so long, and I want to get some real work done for it.

Okay. So, to add to all of the plot previews last chapter, we of course now have this new little family involved. And don't hate Erin; she's a typical moody teenager who just wants to escape up to her room after a long day at school. I can relate to her very closely. And who loves Grace? I love Grace!

Funny thing about the family actually. Remember when I went on my name-explaining spiel, talking about how some characters' names were set from the start and some kept changing? Same thing here! Since the first time I wrote this scene, Clara's name has always been Clara, and every time I've tried to change Erin's name, I kept coming back to Erin, so I figured it was stuck that way (plus I like that name). Nick's name has been several common, run-of-the-mill names. It was Todd, and then Alexander (because that's Jake's middle name), and maybe something else. I'm not sure. And I've just never found a name for Grace that really stuck, until I was in the middle of writing this and I was like oh! Cute little sister doesn't have a name! I thought of Grace first, and then I kind of wanted to change it to Mallory because I have a friend named Mallory, but it didn't work because I liked Grace too much. So yeah. Haha.

Okay. Well, I'd still appreciate title ideas for FT4. And any other little tidbits you'd like to see in the next story (I'm not guaranteeing I'll use them; I just want input).

Also, just because Maddie told me to (actually, I was already going to do it; I just asked whether she thought it was a good idea, and she did) I am posting an epilogue to this. I'm not sure when I'll get it out. If I can write fast, it'll probably appear only a few hours after this is posted. If not, it will be out next week, as I'll have absolutely no writing time between now and Sunday. So it's not completely over yet.

Thanks for everything you guys. It's because of all of you that this story's gotten as far as it has. It started out as a nagging idea inspired by a song, and developed into these amazing characters who are currently running my life. Thanks so much for being such awesome reviewers and for giving me such positive and constructive feedback. I love you all!

Sincerely,
AuthoressMegz
-Megan