Thank you SO MUCH to Bamberlee for editing this chapter!

Just a note: I will be out of town all next week for my kid's spring break, so I am not entirely sure when the next update will be. If I can't get to it on Friday, I will update as soon as I am home. Fingers crossed it'll be Friday, but I'm never sure how long we're actually staying on vacation for.

Have a great weekend everyone!


Forgiveness does not come so easily to Adam.

"Traitor."

He mutters the word from our bed, dressed in nothing but the boxers he'd been lounging around in and looks at me with a stare full of contempt. He's a pleasant sight against the bright bedding, but his scowl is firmly fixed in place. "I thought you said it was you and me. Now you're team Four."

I stare back at him, reclined against the white pillows, spitefully calling his father by some ancient moniker he'd been given. Adam's hair hangs in his eyes, freshly washed and uncombed, and his posture is relaxed, even with the snark. I know he's not entirely mad; he'd listened to me explain how I saw his dad and what he'd said, all with casual interest. He was passive while I explained what happened, but not uninterested in what I was saying.

Until I told him his father apologized.

"I think there's more to his life before Dauntless than we know." I take a single step toward the bed, and I tilt my head at him. "And I'm not…Team Four. Who in their right mind would be Team Four? He tried to get a curfew enforced for anyone under the age of seventeen."

"Yes, but he apologized," Adam mocks, and for several seconds, our standoff continues while he draws an imaginary line so I choose a side. Him, or his father and the seemingly unworthy apology. "And now he wants to talk to me? He's going to tell me that…oh, he had a tragic childhood so that explains why he was on my ass for every mistake I ever made? And because of that, I should let it slide when he said I was to blame for Marcus attacking?"

"Um, yes," I answer him brightly, and the tension is gone. Adam smirks in victory as I step forward, but he shakes his head no at the thought of accepting what his father had to say. "Does this mean you're not going to forgive him?"

"No, I'm not. Why should I? Just because he's suddenly realized that no one likes his attitude?" Adam's defiance would be charming, because I agree with him, but I have the odd feeling Four is more worried about losing Adam than Adam knows. "He can come talk to me, but there's no guarantee it'll make anything better."

"Maybe it won't. Maybe it'll make things worse," I agree. I shrug off the jacket I have on, and I glance around the room while he waits for me to decide what I'm doing.

When I first saw this bedroom, I had been impressed. Everything was pretty and new, clearly picked out by my mother and less by my father, all with good intent. The idea of Adam living with me was impressive, too. Not because it was crazy or insane to think we'd want to live together, but because it very clearly suggested he'd won over my dad.

A nearly impossible feat, considering my father is quick to assume the worst of everyone.

I toss the jacket onto our dresser, and I look back at him.

"Maybe you'll be even angrier after you talk to him."

"I will. Four times as angry," Adam declares with a hint of dark amusement, and his eyes stay on me. "What are you going to do now?"

"Oh, I thought maybe I'd go find your dad and see if he wanted to hang out." I smile widely, and Adam's smirk turns into a snicker. "Maybe hear a few tales from his childhood. Have some snacks."

"He doesn't eat snacks. Why eat a snack when you can just eat dinner?" Adam answers dryly, and he extends his hand out to me. I'm nowhere near him, but he waits patiently until I'm at his side of the bed. "Did you get that…shot?"

"No, not yet." His fingers slide between mine, and he pulls me forward. "I haven't had a chance to go back down there."

"I see." There's flash of disappointment on his face, but it goes away quickly. "Eva…I don't want…"

"Me either."

I don't make him finish his sentence, because I know what he's getting at. We've been on our own for all of a few months, and in this apartment for less than two weeks. Having a baby isn't something either of us wants. Not right now. I want to spend my nights enjoying being with him, not listening to a baby scream for our attention or waking up every few hours and never being able to sleep in again.

"I'll go tomorrow. I'm sure Arlene will be happy to see me." I find myself on the bed, kneeling next to him. A second later, I'm kneeling over him, then sitting on his lap. He looks happier than he was seconds ago; his eyes are bright, less distraught over his father's return and their shitty fall out, and darker as he moves to touch my hair.

"I'll go with you," he offers lowly, and I suddenly wonder what would have happened had we not left Amity. I don't know where the thought comes from, but there it is, unwilling to go away. Maybe it's the white pillows or the fact that his hair is wet and we're alone again. Maybe it's him, looking relaxed and happy that it's just him and me, or the warm feeling of his fingers skimming over the edge of my ear.

Whatever it may be, I have the sudden urge to return to my grandpa's house with Adam, escaping back into a warm bedroom secluded from the rest of the world, and not leave.


This time, Arlene is snappy.

There's a weariness to her that's now constant, and for one horrifying second, I'm certain she's going to die in front of me.

"Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm fine." Arlene glares at me, working fast to scribble on my chart without actually looking at me to see that I'm looking at her. "I'm not dying. I'm supposed to be retired. Actually, I am retired. I stepped down years ago, but I keep getting pulled back in to help out."

"Are you short staffed?" I swing my feet back and forth, patiently waiting for her to stab my arm and call it a day. "Maybe my dad can help."

That gets her to look up.

"Now that would be funny. Eric Coulter, head leader moonlighting as head receptionist of the infirmary." She stops to snort, but then resumes ranting. "I am short staffed, but it's my own doing. I like things done a certain way, and despite rigorous training, these newbies are trying to cut corners. As a result, they had to redo procedures, and I refused to help. Ever since then, they've gotten behind, I'm here trying to clean up the mess. Also, half the staff is out with some cold everyone is panicking over. If the idiots would just wash their hands, they'd be fine."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, there's no one I'd rather get this shot from than you." I smile brightly, but it doesn't make her mood any better.

"Wonderful." Arlene picks up the syringe, larger and much sharper looking than I remember, and her posture changes. "How is Adam, by the way. Did he talk to anyone?"

I look up at her, knowing she'll be able to tell if I'm lying, so I shake my head no. "He's alright. His dad is back and…they're going to talk at some point. It's just a matter of when Four calls him."

"I see," Arlene shoves her glasses up higher, and gestures for me to roll up my sleeve. "I saw Four the night he returned. He wasn't doing so great, but then again, he did spend two weeks in Amity with Rylan."

"It sounded like they had fun," I shrug, stopping myself from laughing. Rylan's recap of their adventure was told in the most Rylan way possible. If he had more time, I bet he would have illustrated it, or tried to make a Claymation movie to show us. "I talked to Four the other day. He was furious when he came back, but I think things will be better now. Especially once he explains everything to Adam."

Arlene wipes my arm with something that smells like rubbing alcohol. A second later, there's a sharp stab and then it's over. She wipes away a single speck of blood, reminds me to come back in three months and slaps a band aid over it.

She then steps away from me, and her stare is intense.

"You and your mother are far too optimistic for your own good. Four is Four. Hell will freeze over before he admits he's wrong. I hope they talk, but I doubt it'll go anywhere." She pauses, like she wants to say more, but her death must be imminent, or another patient is waiting, because she shrugs. "Either way, I'll see you in a few months."

Her declaration hangs between us as she waits for me to agree. When I don't, she leaves me sitting there while she heads out to tend to the next patient, someone screaming bloody murder a room away.

For once, I hope she's wrong.

Actually, I know she's wrong.

Four had apologized to me once, then twice, then a third and fourth time, over and over until he was unable to get any other words out. They were all mixed up; apologies meant for both Adam and me, until I knew he had nothing left in him. I hugged him back, hoping he understood that my forgiveness wasn't conditional. I didn't need him to rehash or relive what went wrong, and I didn't need him to agonize over this any more than Adam and I already had.

I just needed him to move on, and hopefully, with any luck, Adam would, too.


The ninth time my phone beeps, I glare at it.

Since being back in Dauntless, I felt like I was in a world of constant updates. There was no way to unsubscribe from any of them, either. Some were from my father, telling me he was glad I talked to Four, but he fully supported me if I refused to hang out with him. Some were from my mother, reminding me Carol would do my laundry so I didn't have to, and also reminding me she was cutting back her work schedule if I wanted to get lunch.

Some were from Arlene, in all caps, reminding me to get my ass down to the infirmary in three months, but also following up to see how I was feeling.

There were others.

Jason, checking in on how Adam and I were doing, and also keeping us updated on how Meghan was feeling. Neither of us minded those updates; Adam was understandably invested in Jason having a baby. Their bond went deeper than I knew, and I was sort of impatient to see their baby myself.

Karl's family updates were amusing, until I realized he was trapped at home with his twins while Charlotte finished out her last few days at work. They started out entertaining –Ethan and Evan wearing miniature uniforms and barking orders at him all day long –then quickly descended into full chaos. There was a photo of my father sitting with them, snickering as they destroyed Karl's apartment second by second, and Karl's expression changing from proud father to mildly panicked father as he realized he would soon have four children, not just two.

Rylan's updates were frequent and incessant. I knew he'd had a cereal that was mostly marshmallows for breakfast every day since being back, and I knew he loathed the fact that the toast was being rationed. I got an invite and a play by play recap of his haircut –did I want to go, did I need a haircut, was I allowed to get a haircut, had I ever had a haircut, then- why was this lady washing his hair so violently, he washes his hair all the time and she's acting like he doesn't, why is she parting it so weird, oh fuck, was she cutting it like Four's, he said a half inch not six inches, shit now he's bald, Christina is going to leave him, why am I not replying, can he come over and show me, did I have a wig or a top hat he could borrow, actually did Adam's dad have a top hat he could borrow because he swore he saw Four in full costume the other day and oh fuck part two, did he miss the try outs for a play he didn't know we were having –until Adam took the phone and told Rylan I was sleeping, but he was more than welcome to come by tomorrow.

And that neither of us had any hats.

I read all of these and more from the safety of my apartment, happily lying in bed with Adam. I scrolled through the photos, now brighter and sharper thanks to an update from Erudite, and I even liked a few by holding down on them until the little icons popped up. I disliked the one my father sent, a picture of the trucks parked haphazardly, and I knew he was about to go rip apart whoever had parked them. I liked the one from my mom, a pretty dress she was buying to bribe me to get Adam to talk to his dad, and I even liked the one Tris sent me.

That one was a little desperate.

I felt for her, the carefully typed words arranged to ask if Adam was willing to speak to his dad, and then a photo of some flowers she'd bought with my mother. There was no correlation between the two texts, only that she must have thought I'd like the flowers, and she was hoping I'd nudge Adam into going to see his dad.

He wouldn't.

Not even if Dauntless caught fire.

Despite Adam's generous decree that his father could come talk to him, he was waiting for him to make the first move. It was a powerful stance to take, one showing he was willing to talk to his father, but it had to be on his terms.

At least it was something.

Except Four still hadn't called.

I hadn't seen him since he apologized, though I wasn't actively looking for him. I'd spent a few days pursuing job listings, trying to figure out what I wanted to do here before my reprieve was up, and waiting for my shot to kick in. Adam and I didn't have to have sex to be close, nor was he only aware of how I felt if we were physical, and it was nice to just fall asleep next to him without worrying what could possibly happen.

I also learned there were lots of other things we could do besides having sex, and I wasn't going to ruin any of them by bringing up his father.

Even now, as I lie with my head on his stomach while he flips through a long list of movies Jason had updated, I wonder if he will talk to him. I thought his dad would find him right away; he and I had parted ways in the kitchen after he let go of me, and I assumed he'd call Adam that night.

He hadn't.

He'd kept his distance, retreating into his office and throwing himself into work.

I understood.

Work was a distraction; I heard a few whispers delightedly announcing Blythe was now being investigated. Word had gotten out that she'd rightfully panicked when Jeremy did not return, and as a result, she shut down her office and vanished. Calls went unreturned. Her assistant didn't know where she was. No one had seen her in a week. Not long after, a formal investigation was launched, then pushed to the top of our security list. It started with Jack, wanting to right the whole Jeremy situation. Once he dug a little deeper, Blythe's involvement became hard to deny. His working relationship with her was long forgotten once he felt compelled to bring this discovery to the leaders' desks.

It was decided that not only was she guilty, she was really guilty. She was the final threat to everyone's peace, so a direct order went out asking she be brought to trial for her involvement in my attack. There wasn't much honor or vindication in it for me. I was told I'd possibly need to prepare a statement about what happened, and Four, my father, Jason, Rylan, and my grandpa would all be called to Candor as witnesses as well. Mild horror rose up when I imagined not only reliving meeting Blythe and Jeremy and seeing her again, but what they would all reveal. Rylan let it slip that he had a lot on Blythe, and so did Jason. Even Four was involved, having met her a few times and having been on the receiving end of her extreme hatred.

Which meant he, too, had to prepare a formal statement, as well as confirm whatever Rylan and Jason were going to talk about. My father dryly informed me Four and Jason had both been assigned to attempt to corral Rylan's version from a sci-fi murder mystery to the actual details of what had happened, and it was taking up most of Four's time to separate fact from fiction.

Four threw himself into this task. It was better than overseeing the soldiers now looking for factionless and Blythe, and it kept him busy.

Which is why an entire week passes before he finally calls Adam.


Le Pardon.

I read the word a few times while I wait for Rylan.

All around me is chaos. Despite having a housekeeper, a wife who cleaned up after him daily, and the ability to come home and put his clothes away whenever he'd like, Rylan had returned to Dauntless with a new lease on life. After two weeks of nearly dying, he decided he wasn't going to waste any more time doing things he didn't want to do. Life is short, Eva, he'd crowed, toppling over a pile of shirts Christina had neatly folded and gesturing wildly as they fell all over his dining room table. Too short for chores. Too short for listening to one of the ancient, elderly, never retiring members of Dauntless lecture Rylan on how much electricity he was using by not turning the lights off in his office.

Too short to wear an actual uniform.

"Are you learning French?" I turn away from his new word of the day calendar. I miss the old one, with the lengthy complicated sounding words that he read each day. He liked to sneak them into his conversations, head tilted and a glint in his eye as everyone tried to figure out what he was saying. "Doesn't that mean…"

"Forgiveness, and yes, it does mean what you're thinking. It's fitting, seeing as how I was forced to forgive Four for insulting my mother while we were in Amity." Rylan appears beside me, and he reaches over to flip the calendar up a page. His shirt is striking. It's a neon green color that hurts my eyes, and his pants are an electric pink. His still long hair is held up by a yellow hair tie, and his shoes are green. The sight of him is shocking, but he doesn't care.

I don't care, either.

I'd come over to have lunch with him, and he could have worn whatever. I was just happy he was alive.

"Why did he insult your mom? Wait, are you really mad at that? Don't you and your mom not get along very well?" I ask carefully, watching him flip through the pages until he finds the one he likes. It's months away, but that doesn't matter. He tacks the page up with a grin.

"No, we do not get along. She doesn't appreciate my desire to lead a life less boring than hers. She's never even met Christina."

"Do you ever see her?" I steal a peek around his apartment, wondering if Christina was just biding her time until he'd been back long enough that it was acceptable to remind him he still had to pick up his stuff. "When you guys go to Erudite?"

"Never. She's old. Always telling me to cut my hair and get a better job. She doesn't even know what I do here." The smile doesn't leave Rylan's face, but it lessens for a split second. "I like Daniel much better. I claimed him as my stand in parent. I only need one. He's enough."

"Your mom doesn't know you're a leader here?"

Over the past week, I had become a little curious about the jobs available here. Adam and I had yet to choose anything definite, because my research led to some disappointing results. I read the list a few times, and to my dismay, most of the open jobs were positions no one wanted or hadn't picked. I refused to trudge through some outpost or slog through the banks of water where the factionless hung out, and I refused to spend my days on a rotating shift that kept me out of the faction for weeks. My only options left were dismal positions no one wanted, or to go see my father and sweetly ask for him to find something for us to do that wasn't awful.

That felt a little desperate.

But I had no clue what I wanted to do.

Because we'd been gone, those ranking after us were given the first chance to pick their position. Gunner and Aja had told Adam they'd taken jobs with Karl, happily sliding into two of the much sought after spots on one of his elite squads. They were lucky, and they knew it. I tried to find something that came close to working with Karl, but there was nothing. Adam had shaken his head at almost everything else, and the two of us dejectedly gave up when neither wanted to work in the control room or take the overnight shift at the security post.

At the rate things were going, I would be going to see my father.

Not just to help me, either.

"I've told her a million times. She doesn't believe me because I failed PE once." Rylan narrows his eyes, shivering at the memory. "I just didn't want to play with the fucking parachute thing. I told the coach it was stupid, and the guy failed me. Said I was mouthy and didn't listen. I never heard the end of it. I was six, by the way."

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you if she knew…" I start, but Rylan shakes his head.

"Some people are just miserable, Eva. Don't worry about it. I told you. I claimed Daniel. Eric doesn't like him half the time, so I got first dibs. More than dibs. Daniel likes me better, anyway. You can have Camille."

I laugh, but I know he's joking.

Mostly.

"Are you ready? Do you want to invite Christina?" I look past him, wondering if she's here.

"Nah, she's at work. It's just you and me, and I swear if Four interrupts this lunch, I will kill him with my bare hands, a butter knife, and his own dismal sense of self-worth." Rylan's face darkens for a split second, then his grin is firmly in place. "You lead the way, Coulter Three."

I let out a burst of laughter, not just at the name, but at the page he's flipped the calendar to.

On the newest pages, printed in the blackest of ink, is the word Monstre du Loch Ness and my grandfather's phone number.


"Are you glad I'm back?"

Rylan looks over his giant hamburger, patiently waiting for me to answer. I immediately nod my head, knowing it wasn't his fragile self-esteem asking, but his burning curiosity over if I would have replaced him as my number one godfather.

"I am. I was really worried something had happened to you and all I'd have left is that giant portrait. Thank you, by the way." I take a bite of my salad, chewing down an overly drenched piece of chicken, and I swallow when Lucy slides by our table to make sure we are fine. "I bet Arlene is glad you're back, too."

He snickers in pure delight.

"Yeah, I got an earful. Four and I both had to go get checked out by her to be considered fit for duty. She tried to shove antibiotics at your boy."

I pause with my salad fork in midair. "Are you taking them? Don't you need them?"

Rylan pretends to consider what I'm saying. He shrugs, then looks up at the ceiling briefly. "Are you saying Eden's treatments really don't work?"

"I didn't say that," I stare back at him, hoping against all odds he was taking something other than dandelion root for his stab wound. "But I think it would be smart if you take them. Wouldn't your uh, substitute father agree?"

"Yes, I would."

I look up in total surprise, and I should have caught the look on Rylan's face. He had gone from looking at the ceiling to waving at someone, and I had assumed it was Lucy.

But it wasn't.

It was my grandpa, dressed up a little too formally to be sliding into the booth next to Rylan. He hugs him, really hugs him –like a father would– side eyes his outfit, then smiles at me.

"I'll hug you in a minute. I want to make sure that Rylan isn't in danger of losing a limb."

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Rylan waves a french fry in the air, narrowly missing my grandpa's face. "And yes, I am taking antibiotics. I like to live on the edge, but I'm not stupid. I'd like to keep my arm, at least for now."

"How on Earth did you get stabbed?" My grandfather's concern is evident, and he squints at Rylan trying to see if the wound is visible. It is. It's just beneath the edge of his neon colored sleeve, still raw and dark. "I just left Eric's office. He was filling me in on what happened. I can't believe you were lost in the woods for two weeks."

"That's a rough estimate. In my mind, it felt like months," Rylan points out, winking at me. "I got stabbed by one of the factionless. It happened so quick I didn't even notice until Four pointed it out. Felt like a scratch. Four cried more than I did."

"A scratch," my grandpa repeats, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Well, if you'd like me to take a look at it, I can. I can have Arlene pull up your chart and…"

"No need! I'm already halfway recovered!" Rylan exclaims, and he waves at someone else. "Oh good, Eric is here. Oh, and Jason. Oh, and…" His face darkens, and he scowls. "Of course. What lunch would be complete without Four?"

He leans back, practically hissing Four's name, but his disdain is completely made up. While he glares at Four from beneath a stray strand of his hair, he makes no move to leap for his throat.

"Should I move so you can kill him with your bare hands?" I move the butter knife away from him, then pretend I'm about to climb out of the booth, and Rylan shakes his head furiously.

"Later," he whispers. "He's very…fragile right now. I'll give him some time."

"Fragile?" I repeat, but I don't get an answer.

My father and his friends arrive, and it's not just Jason and Four with him, but Karl and Ethan and Evan.

"Oh good, you're all here. Even…the contagious ones." Rylan eyes Ethan and Evan warily, then welcomes them onto his lap without much of a fight. "Karl told me they both have the plague."

"I said they have colds," Karl retorts, and he somehow climbs over me to sit on the other side. He's close enough to Ethan and Evan that he can keep an eye on them, but they ignore him in favor of Rylan. Ethan takes Rylan's hair out of the ponytail, and Evan examines his arm, holding it up to look for the dark slice on his skin. "Not the plague. You weren't complaining the other night."

"They were happy to see me!" Rylan tries to fix his hair, but Ethan is faster. The hair tie is shot over to my father, who looks pretty smug as Rylan loses control to the two tiny dictators. "Here, go sit with Uncle Eric. He missed you."

"No, DANIEL!" Evan shrieks, realizing his millionth favorite person is here. He climbs over Rylan to my grandpa and reaches his arms out. "Hold me!"

"What are you all doing?" I glance around the table, watching grown men try to squeeze themselves into the seats. The booth wasn't meant for all of us, but Jason grabs a chair to sit on the end, and Four is left sitting beside me. "Who is in charge if you're all down here?"

"No one!" Jason answers, and he looks amused by the idea. "Or, I guess Eric's assistant is."

"I'm firing her," my father rubs his temple, looking over at me while Ethan makes himself at home on his lap. "In the spirit of Rylan, she deleted all my files and I can't figure out how to get them back."

"Lucky you," Rylan laughs, and he elbows Karl. "You off today?"

"Nah, I was in Eric's office. Charlotte is also sick, so I'm trying to let her sleep so she won't divorce me before she goes into labor. Everyone else just showed up."

"We were working. Then we heard Daniel was here. Then we heard you were at lunch with Rylan and we thought we might as well come join you…" Four looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and the change is drastic. There's no stare down or displeasing frown, only a friendly hopeful glance. "Or save you, since he said he might want to hit up the bar."

"Thank you. I think I've seen enough of Henry to last me a lifetime," I answer flatly, and it's the honest truth.

Since moving in next door to him, I'd seen him several times. Always when I didn't want to, and always when he was coming back from working out. He liked to wave hello way too enthusiastically, and he usually waited to see if Adam was with me.

I felt a small speck of sympathy for him when he realized Adam was almost always with me, but it was fleeting.

Henry suggested we exchange phone numbers in case of an emergency, and I responded by telling him I didn't have a phone.

"Are you enjoying living by him?" My dad looks a little too entertained, and it dawns on me that he knew exactly who I was moving next to. "Isn't he just a delightful little shit?"

"Did you make me live by him on purpose?" I glare at my dad, and he smiles back brightly. "He's super annoying."

"Oh, I know he is." My dad widens his eyes in mock innocence, and he laughs at the look on my face. "He was obsessed with your mother. Probably still is. He said he was going to grow up and take my job and my wife. Too bad dreams really don't come true."

"So, you had me move in next door?" I stare at my father's pleased expression, and I already know the answer. "That's petty, even for you. He did say he's working with Four. Why doesn't he work with you if he loves you so much?"

"Because I hate him."

Next to me, Four laughs.

Sort of.

He also chokes on the water he's drinking.

"You're really holding onto a grudge from when he insulted you…how long was it? Fifteen years ago? Sixteen?"

"Yes, I am." My father answers defiantly, and he glances over at Rylan, talking to Daniel about infection control. Rylan doesn't look like he believes him, even as Daniel explains how his stab wound might need to be looked at in another week. "How's he doing, anyway? I meant to ask you what he wants to do when he's done training. I got his timecard yesterday, along with a request for a week off."

I notice Four trying not to look at me, and I wonder what he's thinking. There's no way I'll ever know, but he squints at my dress curiously, then turns his attention back to my father.

"He wants your job," Four pauses, then he smiles. Widely. "And your wife."

"Well, he can go fuck himself."

I laugh into my own drink. Their banter feels downright normal, and there's a rush of relief to it. Despite Rylan's threat to kill Four, he isn't even paying any attention to him. He's currently ordering a second lunch, and insisting Karl do the same. My father and Four go back to talking about Henry, and even Jason reminds them that Henry once threw his boots at my father's head.

I listen carefully when my father admits it did happen. I would have given someone all my points to see a small child throwing their shoes at him, especially when Jason reminds my father that Henry's mother is still terrified of him to this day.

Things seem so much lighter, and so much better, I can't bring myself to ask Four what Adam said.

Turns out, I don't have to.

Over lunch, he finally leans closer to me, and very quietly tells me he's supposed to come by tonight.


"Should we make ravioli?"

I ask Adam this while he towers over me. He reaches for a bowl, and once he has it, he answers with zero enthusiasm.

"No."

"Salad?"

"No."

"A pizza?" I turn to face him, reaching for a second bowl and a glass, and he looks down at me like I've suggested we invite his father to live with us. "You don't want me to make anything?"

"Did your dad teach you to cook?" Adam's stare is firmly on me, and I know what he's doing. "Did he teach you how to make cookies? Or did he teach you…"

"Yes, he did teach me all that stuff and you know it." I forget about dinner, and I reach for him. My arms loop around his neck, an impressive feat considering he's much taller, and I work to pull him down close to me. "He taught me because my mother can't cook anything and he said I needed to know for when I live on my own. But I don't live on my own and I don't even know if you can cook."

"I can. Because I taught myself or my mother told me what to do." Adam answers defiantly, but his nose touches mine. "If we ever…"

He stops when my lips touch his, and it's not because I don't want to hear what he was about to say. My guess is he was going to say if we ever had kids, something very telling about our future, that he would even be thinking that far, is he would teach them how to cook. He would teach them all kinds of things, because I was learning he and his father had existed in very different worlds, and his home life was a pretty sharp contrast to my own.

Which meant tonight had to go well to start the process of fixing their relationship. They had to find some common ground, something, anything that would remind them they weren't enemies.

Unfortunately, the thought of his father coming over for dinner was starting to rattle him. Despite finishing initiation first, surviving an attempted murder, surviving near death temperatures and finding our way to safety, Adam was thrown off by a dinner.

He was suddenly irritable over every detail, unwilling to give his father an inch into his own life. While I tried to figure out what we should eat, Adam decided this was the perfect time to bring up every grievance he had about his father. Including the cooking.

It ended when he flat out refused to tell me what his father liked for dinner, declaring he liked nothing.

I sort of expected this.

I had gone to see Arlene this afternoon, my head hurting and my stomach woozy, and she told me it was nerves. She also told me Adam and Four had a lot of angry feelings they'd both suppressed, and they wouldn't vanish with a single conversation. She went on to say most importantly –it wasn't my job to save either of them. I could help. I could encourage them to talk and listen, but at the end of the night, it was up to them to decide how they felt toward one another and if they wanted to have any sort of father son relationship.

She then made me drink something and sent me on my way.

I'd returned home with the intent to figure out what to make for dinner, but Adam wasn't interested in that at all.

What he was interested in, was comparing his father to mine. Mine had come by an hour earlier to drop off some paperwork from Jason. He relayed Jason's instructions with minor annoyance; we could fill out the paperwork whenever, and my father didn't know what position it was for because Jason hadn't told him. I didn't tell him, either. I took it from him, holding a heavy folder in my hands bearing the Dauntless emblem, and my stomach turned over.

I knew my father was waiting for me to open it up and show him, but I shoved it onto the counter, smiled, and asked him if he brought dessert.

I hadn't shown it to Adam, either. I wasn't sure what he would think of the papers, but I knew part of his worry was that we hadn't found jobs yet. Ranking first and second should have given us the top choice of wherever we wanted to go. Since we'd been gone for the end of initiation, the best positions had been filled, but I could easily ask for ones to be created. Karl had sent numerous text messages telling me he'd be thrilled to have both of us work for him, and Jason even offered a few ideas, including working with him.

I didn't have a chance to tell Adam any of this. He came back from hanging out with Aja and Gunner and looked like he regretted telling his father he'd talk to him.

"Just let him tell you what he has to say. If it goes south, I'll break it up, okay?" I promise him this, standing on my tip toes, barefoot in our kitchen. My back hits the counter when he nods, and I have the feeling if he could, Adam would completely collapse into me.

Not because he was weak or afraid of his father, but because after years of pent up emotion, the thought of it all coming to a head was exhausting.

"What are you going to do? Jump between us?" He mumbles the words against my mouth and his fingers slip deeper into my hair.

His question makes me grin, but it's a good one.

Things could get heated, and for a moment, I consider calling in someone else for backup.

The best choice would be Jason, since he was firmly on Adam's side. The worst choice would be my father, or maybe Rylan, if he was still upset Four didn't have fun with him in Amity.

But really, the fewer people involved, the better.

"Yes."

I smile when his fingers sink to the nape of my neck, pinning me against the counter, and the two of us finally agree to make pizza for dinner.


Forty minutes later, I think I might actually throw up.

We haven't even eaten the pizza yet, nor has anyone done much of anything. The salad sits untouched, the pizza sits in the middle of the table, and the napkins are neatly folded and unmoved since I placed them there.

The apartment is so quiet we can hear the faint hum of electricity, and the groan of old, ancient pipes as water rushes through them. The silence is unnerving, oppressive and thick, because his father hasn't shown up.

"Maybe he's running late."

My suggestion is met with dead silence. Adam and I sit at the table together, the plates set and the glasses filled, and the tension is heavy. I meet his stare beside me, his dark hair somewhat combed and his expression somehow knowing and disappointed at the same time, and he shrugs away my curious glance.

"I guess he changed his mind."

His words are hollow, but the finality is completely understood when an hour passes, and his father doesn't show.


Clyde's is crowded.

I shove my way through soldier after soldier, black uniforms crammed together in celebration of…something, and I force my way through a group of men a good two feet taller than me. They look down in confusion, but they all part to the side so I can get through.

I must look crazy.

I'd run down here barefoot, in a dress that wasn't warm enough for this faction, and my hair had fallen out of the bun I'd put it up in. I'd called my father after Adam and I ate the dinner we'd made, just the two of us, and Adam announced he was going to get some air.

My father answered immediately, and it took all of ten seconds for him to know something was wrong.

Thirty seconds for him to declare he'd fix it.

A single minute for him to yell for my mother.

Three minutes to track down Four.

On the run down here, I'd called Adam over and over, trying to get him to answer. He never once picked up, though that could be for any reason. He could have left his phone at home, he could have it on silent, or he could be thinking Four had finally shown up and it was too late. Whatever the case may be, I kept trying until I reached the doors of Clyde's and it grew too loud to hear anything.

I went right in; further and further, past the large crowded tables, until I arrived at the bar. It was a place I'd never sat before and wouldn't normally go, but there he was, his shoulders bowed down and a dark drink in front of him.

He looks up when I take the seat next to him and the look on his face is something I haven't seen before.

A despondent flash of disbelief that I was here, and an equal dose of fear.

"You didn't show up."

My accusation is loud enough that the man behind the bar startles. He whips around to peer at me, and once recognition sinks in, he returns to polishing the glasses.

"Four." I lean closer to him, just like he'd leaned closer to me down in the kitchens, and he nods in acknowledgment.

It's not a very happy nod, and I realize he's not on his first drink, but his third. There are two empty glasses beside his current one, both tall and offering the promise of whatever escape he was seeking.

"Why didn't you come by when you said you would?" I demand, knowing he could easily tell me to get lost or stand up and leave. "Why didn't you come talk to Adam?"

He still doesn't answer me. I try to find some patience for him, along with a chance to explain what had gone wrong. I was so sure he'd be there. All he'd wanted was the opportunity to talk to Adam, and he finally had one.

But it was becoming clear this went deeper than his son not listening to him. Whatever deep, dark secret he was hiding was looming over him, entangling him in old memories of the trauma he'd survived. When Four had come back furious over the return of his father, his blame fell squarely to Adam and me. But now, it was all on him, and the way he shakes his head tells me he wasn't dealing with this well.

Or judging by the beers, at all.

"I made you pizza."

He turns at this; the words are so much more juvenile than I mean for them to be, but it's more than that. It wasn't just that I'd made the pizza, or that Adam had helped me. The meal was supposed to be an olive branch between them. Four would come to our apartment, and we'd have dinner ready. The give and take would soften the anger they both felt, putting them on even ground.

Except none of that happened.

"We waited for you," I try not to lose my balance on the bar stool without breaking his stare, and I sit in my moment of fleeting triumph. "Why didn't you come by?"

Four looks at me, really looks at me, and the noise of Clyde's roars even louder as someone salutes a group of soldiers arriving. He glances back at them, then at me, like he's skeptical of the sight before him.

"Four?"

"I don't know what to tell him." His answer is grievous, almost drowned out by the chant of a guy's name over and over until it reaches a peak level of loudness. "I thought about it all afternoon, and I don't even know where to start."

"Just…tell him what happened! Tell him why you were upset!" I have to talk louder than I'd like, and it only amplifies my fear of this never being fixed.

"It doesn't work like that."

"Okay, but you didn't even try." My frustration mirrors Four's, because I don't have all the answers for him, and I have a weird feeling we're running out of time. "I don't know what happened, but I do know it would have been better if you'd shown up."

"It's not that simple, Eva." Four answers testily, and our truce becomes temporary as his sharpness returns. "How do I even start to explain everything to someone who doesn't want to listen?"

"But he was ready to listen. He was waiting," I practically yell the words at him, and in the background, the squad competes by yelling even louder. "Why do you think he won't…"

I stop speaking when Four pushes the drink away from him, and his head tilts forward. His stare is on the half empty glass. His posture is laden with defeat, especially when he sighs heavily. "Why should he?"

"You think he won't forgive you, don't you?" This thought comes to me as I stare at him, because in this moment, he looks just like Adam did when Adam was so sure his father would blame him for the attack. "You really think he'd listen to what you have to say then tell you to go away?"

"It's exactly what he's going to do. I get it. I understand. For years, I questioned everything he did. Where he was going. Why he was going somewhere. How well he was doing. Who he was hanging out with. He has every reason to cut ties once he hears what he wants to hear, because telling him won't make it any different." Four shrugs dismissively. "I think…he's happy with you. He likes being with you. He's going to get you to leave here for good, isn't he? He just wants to be away from everything. I understand the feeling completely."

"What do you mean?" I nearly fall off my seat, and the noise in the bar drops considerably. "Where do you think we're going? And you really didn't come by because you think we're leaving? Or because you think he won't forgive you?"

Four's stare is slow to find mine, and it's unreadable.

"Should he? I accused my own son of causing Marcus to attack. I blamed him for my being stuck in Amity. I'm trained to survive, a hundred times over what an initiate is trained for. Instead of being thankful he was alive, I was furious he hadn't listened to me."

"So tell him that," I plead, and I lean as close to him as I dare. The man behind the counter stands a few feet away, doing his best not to listen. "Just…call him and tell him…"

"Tell him what? That the man who attacked him did the same thing to me? That my entire childhood was spent learning how to stay one step ahead of him? That I had to pretend it didn't bother me? How I learned to stay out of his way? Should I tell him how I promised myself I'd never feel so low again and yet here I am, feeling just like the minute Marcus called my name to come downstairs and tell everyone how great things were."

Four's stare is so dark it hurts, but it changes drastically. His jaw goes slack, and his eyes widen right as someone touches my back.

"Dad?"

This time, I do fall off the bar stool.

It tilts when I turn too fast, stunned to see Adam standing behind me. He stands out in the sea of dark, because his shirt is white. Almost too white, and it matches the paleness of his skin. He looks confused; his stare moves from his father back to me, and in his hand is his phone.

"Adam?"

"You kept…Eva, she kept calling and I answered but she wasn't there and I realized she was here…and then you started talking…"

Adam talks while he helps me catch my balance, and he steadies me against the cold metal I'd been sitting on. I can only assume I forgot to hang up, which meant he heard everything I've said and maybe some of what his father said, because his expression isn't very happy.

"Why didn't you tell me about him? Why?" Adam looks right at his father, but his fingers stay on my spine. "Why didn't you tell me he'd try to hurt me? Or that he'd want some sick revenge on you? I only went with him because I didn't know any better."

"I didn't want you to think…"

"Think what? Think less of you? Or that you were lying? Maybe if you'd told me anything, instead of always thinking I was trying to pull shit behind your back, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Eva and I wouldn't have nearly died in the snow." Adam's words are as angry as they can get, and understandably so. They hang in the air, full of a pained agony he'd been stuck in, and an equal amount of frustration. "You should have told me."

He steps toward his father, and I'm trapped between them, just like in the imaginary scenario I'd thought about earlier.

Only this is much different. I hadn't quite expected this to happen in Clyde's, in between a man pouring a beer made by Forrest and a bunch of soldiers now clapping in delight as Karl arrives to announce Charlotte is officially in labor. He misses Four and Adam and me completely, because he's swarmed by his squad offering to walk him to the infirmary.

"No, you're right," Four answers, and my chest tightens when he turns to look directly at his son. "I should have told you what happened with him. I should have warned you he was out there, and if he ever found you, he'd use you against me."

"He said…he told me some things…" Adam starts, and his fingers find my arm. He holds onto me, his hand sliding down toward my wrist in an attempt to steady himself. "He told me that you left on bad terms. He told me he knew you'd be a terrible father…"

Four's flinch is hard to miss. He tries to play it off, but it's there, in his spine, crushing him as this plays out the way he was thinking it would.

"Adam…you have to understand-"

"I told him…I told him you weren't a terrible father. Annoying, yeah. In my business, way too much. But at the end of the day, you never did what he did. I mean, I didn't like you, and I still don't, but it's nothing compared to Marcus."

I crane my head up to look at Adam, and my expression must be pure shock. "You know?"

"I heard a lot about what happened. It's not that hard to find things out here. You know that." Adam's indifference is understood, because it was easy to find out things here. Almost too easy, even when you didn't want your secrets to get out.

"Adam," I lean closer to him, but he's not looking at me. He's looking at his father, and there's a tense minute when I expect one of them to leave.

"I thought for sure he would have killed you. Once Eric said it was Marcus, I figured he'd murder you both the second he could. The whole time we drove out there, I kept thinking, this…this is my fault. This is my fault and no matter when we get there, it'll be too late. And it was. We got to Amity and we didn't find either of you. But we knew he'd taken you somewhere. And Rylan, he kept saying you'd be fine. That you both were smart enough to get away, and if you could, you'd get back to Harrison and…"

He stops when it becomes too much. The words are heavy and hard to say, and he shuts his eyes as he relives every single second of thinking we were dead at the hands of his own father.

"I should have told you, and I didn't and I'm sorry."

It's the last thing I hear before I'm crushed between them. I don't know who reaches for who first; Adam might have been reaching for me or maybe his dad, but I think Four was reaching for both of us. I'm stuck between them, my head on Adam's chest and my arms around his waist, while his father holds on. The action is still awkward and stiff, but just like last time, I don't move. I let him hug me so he can hug his son, because I'm not so sure it would happen any other way.

"You don't know how many times I thought about what I was going to tell you. How…or when…." Four speaks lowly, and I'm sure it is downright impossible for him to say any of this. Maybe it was better this talk was taking place in Clyde's. The alcohol had to help, especially once Adam showed up. It might have been what Four needed to get this out, even the mumbled apology and the words that spilled out after it.

"Or how relieved I was to know you were alive…"

He's talking to Adam, but he's still holding onto me, too.

His grip is tight, clinging to both of us, until it suddenly becomes hard to breathe. It must happen for everyone, because Four lets go of us and he reels back, looking startled.

Unsure, but relieved, because the worst is over.

"Adam…"

"Okay," Adam steps back like he's on fire, and the moment of reconciliation dissolves into thin air. "It's not…I mean, it's not just better because you said you were sorry. You weren't even glad Eva and I were alive."

"I wasn't thinking," Four shakes his head. "I was still in shock Marcus found you. I was…I spent two weeks with Rylan. Doesn't that count for something?"

He does his best to make a weak joke, forcing himself to smile at his own attempt to lighten things up. It doesn't go over as well as he's hoping. Adam stares at him, and his fingers dig into my side as he moves to pull me along with him. "I guess…"

"I know this doesn't make anything better, but..." Four swallows thickly, and he stops to really think about his next words. He knows each one is important. There are only so many Adam will listen to before he decides he's over it all or that the apology isn't enough. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. For not trusting you and not thinking you needed to know about Marcus. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there. Both of you."

I blink in surprise.

No one had said they were proud of us. They were glad we were alive, and happy we were back, but Four is the first one to say he's proud.

"Marcus was smart. Too smart. You were right to get away when you could." Four finishes speaking, and he waits for Adam to say something.

It takes a long time. Adam lets the words sink in before he finally nods.

"Yeah, but…I felt like you didn't really care that we were back. Like you only cared about the soldiers and the inconvenience of being stuck in another faction." Adam's tone changes. It loses the dark edge it previously held, and he sounds much less angry. "You kept saying…all the people patrolling and….never once did you say it was good Eva and I were alive."

"I know. I've thought about what I said every single night since I got back." Four reaches for something in his pocket, and he tosses his card onto the counter.

Behind it, the man lurking in the background has finished polishing his glasses. He takes the card, and the whole bar slowly comes back into focus. Karl and his men have left, presumably to walk down to find his wife, and the only ones left are a few stragglers, nursing left over mixed drinks while they talk amongst themselves.

Everything around us winds down, including this explosive discussion.

"Look, this is a lot for tonight. I understand if you're still mad, and I don't expect miracles to happen overnight. If or when you want, we can talk again. Eva, too."

Four offers this up, an opportunity to talk, on Adam's terms with me there. I hold my breath until Adam agrees, nodding slowly, pulling me right off the bar stool and over to him.

"Okay."

By the time the bartender is back with Four's tab, Adam and Four agree to meet in a few days. It's tentative at best, but it's something. Neither say much as we wait for Four to sign his receipt. I think Four might want to grasp onto Adam one more time, but he doesn't. He keeps a respectful distance and walks out with us. We part ways silently, but agreeably. Adam and I leave hand in hand; his grip is tight, fingers slid between mine, and he sticks close to me. He's quiet, lost in his thoughts as he processes what just happened, and I let him.

He stays like this while we ascend a set of stairs, toward the dimly lit hallway, and we pause once we reach the top. He looks down out of the corner of his eye, and I stop beneath the lone bulb lighting up this entire area.

"Thanks for calling me." Adam smiles, downplaying the emotional moment with his father entirely, but I know better.

Things might not be fixed. They certainly weren't great or amazing after their whirlwind talk, and it certainly didn't erase the years of feeling like nothing he did was right. But it was a start. It was a huge step in the right direction, and that was what mattered.

"You're welcome. Anytime," I smile back, pleased when he moves closer. He bends down to kiss my cheek, but he lingers there, smiling against me.

For one pulse pounding moment, I think he's going to ask me something important.

Really important.

I have the dizzied nervous feeling he's going to propose, right here, in a dark hallway where Jason swore a demon lurked in the corners. Go figure the only witness to such a special moment would be Arlene's long deceased cousin, pausing her haunting to see what we were doing.

"Eva," Adam pauses, and his voice is lighter than it has been. "Are you not wearing any shoes?"

I burst out laughing. After everything that's happened today -the cooking, the failed dinner, his fury and forced pretending his father not showing up didn't bother him, storming off, and eventually finding us in Clyde's and talking, his question and my forgotten shoes are the last thing I'm thinking of.

"You know what? No, I'm not. No wonder I'm freezing."

Adam snickers right along with me, and we resume walking. He laughs when we pass Gunner and Aja, cheerfully walking home from their shiny new jobs, and he laughs when we pass Karl, pacing the hallway after being banned from the room by Charlotte.

He holds my hand the entire walk home, tighter and closer than ever.


Around two in the morning, I hold a tiny baby against my chest.

She's pretty; her hair is the same color as Karl and Charlotte's, blonde and straight and messily combed to the side, and she's wrapped in a dark pink blanket.

Next to me, Adam holds her sister, wrapped in a lighter pink blanket.

They look identical. They're both sound asleep, dressed in tiny matching pink pajamas, and they make tiny snuffling noises whenever they move.

"What's her name?"

Adam yawns, looking over at Charlotte, who somehow has managed to look completely not exhausted despite giving birth to two babies a few hours ago. Karl had called us a few hours after we went to bed, and I answered because I knew if I didn't, they'd send Rylan down to come wake us up. We both willingly went to see them, and we were taken right back to where Charlotte was staying. I expected to find her half asleep, or up looking like a total mess, but instead we found her beaming as Karl sat on the bed with her, totally enthralled by their newest additions.

"You're holding Elyse. Eva is holding Ella. Or…wait, does Adam have Ella?"

"He has Elyse," Charlotte grins, and upon further inspection, she looks a little bit tired. But not tired enough considering she'd been throwing up for the past nine months. "Eva has Ella."

"Are you guys going to change your names to start with the letter E?" Adam asks curiously, and I have to stifle down the very tired laughter threatening to escape. "Ethan, Evan, Ella, Elyse. There are other letters to choose from, you know."

"When you and Eva have a baby, you can name your child whatever you want," Karl grins, unbothered as ever. "We picked them out the minute we found out we were having girls."

"Have Evan and Ethan met them yet?" I hold Ella a little closer, examining her intently. She was far smaller than I was imagining a newborn baby would be. She opens up her eyes for a split second, then blinks at the lights and immediately closes them. She isn't at all fussy, only annoyed that she's being held away from her mother.

"Not yet," Charlotte leans back, and she pulls her feet up gingerly. She's not even wearing the hospital gown I'd seen a few others wearing. She has pretty pajamas on, and her hair is piled up on top of her head. "We figured we'd let them sleep through the night and come meet their sisters tomorrow. They're with your mom and dad. They wanted to stay with them."

"I bet they're having a blast," I walk back over to the bed, and Karl stands up. He tells Charlotte he'll be right back, then he dashes out to find her some ice. "Was it hard?"

"Which part? Barfing up everything I ate or listening to Karl talk about how we don't have enough room and need to move asap?" Charlotte smiles up at me, and I sit down on the edge of the bed. I must have a horrified look on my face, because she shakes her head. "Honestly, I'd give birth ten times over the vomiting. I knew what to expect. Ethan and Evan weren't the easiest labor, so this was a breeze in comparison."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, sort of tired now that the hard part is over." She watches me, then turns to check on Adam. He's still off to the side, holding Elyse and halfway listening. "Were you guys sleeping?"

"Yeah, but Eva said Rylan would come wake everyone up if we didn't get up," Adam yawns again, and he looks over at me. "This one is just sleeping. Is this all she does?"

Charlotte stares at him with an amused smile. "What else do you want her to do? She's only two hours old."

"I don't know. Can she say anything?"

"Four never had you hang around any babies, did he?" Charlotte dryly observes, and Adam wrinkles his nose at her. "They'll sleep off and on. Eat. Go back to sleep. It stays that way for a while."

"Fun," Adam answers in a voice that conveys the exact opposite. "Has anyone else come by?"

"Rylan, he was first. He was here minutes after their birth, in fact. Jason came by a little while later, and he said Meghan is sleeping. Your parents called and so did Eva's. They're both coming by in the morning, which is fine with me." Charlotte watches the two of us, and she reaches for Ella. I hand her back willingly, and my arms rejoice when the tiny baby is back with her mother.

"Do you think Ethan and Evan will like them?" I watch Charlotte fix Ella's blanket. She makes it look effortless, and Ella barely moves.

"Probably not," Charlotte answers cheerfully. "We told them they were getting two little sisters and they both said no."

"That's funny," Adam wanders closer, stopping by my side. He's still holding Elyse, but he makes no move to hand her back. "I don't know if I would want a brother or sister, either."

"I wouldn't," I agree, and Charlotte smiles widely.

"That's because you two grew up as only children. I bet when you finally have kids, you'll have more than a few."

Neither of us answer her, but there's no need. Karl arrives with two cups full of ice, and he waltzes back into the room like he's come back from battle.

"I found these. They want to know if you want some crackers." He sets the cups down on the table beside the bed, and he surveys his temporary domain. "What do you guys think?"

"They're cute. I love them both," I smile through the sudden wave of exhaustion, and I wonder if Adam is just as tired as I am. "I like their names, too."

"Of course you do," Adam rolls his eyes. "They start with an E."

"Are you guys staying long? Do you want me to make some coffee?" Karl looks oddly alive, and Adam throws me one terrified stare. "No? Eva? Adam?"

"I think we're going to head back home. We really should get to bed. But thank you for the offer," I stand up quickly, and Adam heads toward Karl to hand him his daughter. "We'll come by later. Call me if you need anything."

"You're too nice, Eva. Go home and sleep," Charlotte responds, and I walk around to hug her goodbye. "Enjoy all that…nice, quiet, uninterrupted sleep. It won't last forever."

"Well now I really want to hurry up and have kids," I joke, but really, I'm thinking of all the future naps and early bedtimes I plan on keeping. "I hope you get some rest."

"We will!" Karl takes Elyse from Adam, and he's still high off the birth of his daughters. It's the only thing I can think to explain his wired state. "Have a safe walk home."

We wave goodbye, exiting the room as quietly as possible. The infirmary is super quiet, and for once, there isn't anyone waiting.

"That was…intense," Adam offers, and he walks slowly, like he might fall asleep any second now. "They have a lot of kids now."

"I know. My dad said they're moving to one of the largest apartments we have. They needed more space. I think he's bummed Karl won't be on his floor anymore." I reach for Adam's hand, and I'm so tired I barely notice he's not really listening.

He's silent the whole walk home. He unlocks the door, heads right into the bedroom, and is sound asleep before I can even ask if he thought they were cute.


He's not so silent in the morning.

I wake to him mumbling my name, and he presses his nose into my hair.

"You're freezing," he points out as he pulls me further against his chest, yanking the covers up and around us.

"I think the heat quit working," I grumble, because he's right. I am freezing. I push myself closer to him, until my feet hit his shins and his chest is against my back. "It sounded weird before we went to bed."

"I'll warm you up."

His offer is very appealing, even more so when I turn around to face him. He's sleepy and warm, only half awake even though it's nearly ten, and not at all ready to get out of bed.

I'm not, either.

We ignore the dinging sounds coming from the phone, and Rylan's request to meet for breakfast, right that second.

He, and the announcement that Blythe has officially been listed as missing, can wait until later.