It was after midnight and the house was dark save for the glow coming from the open refrigerator. The soft sound of a huff of amusement made Blake jump and swing the door as he was met with a smirk on Alison's face. "I didn't hear you come down."
She only shook her head. "I was hungry." She motioned for him to back up and then fished ice cream out of the freezer, passing it to him as she went in search of bowls and spoons. "Why haven't you just moved in?"
"Because that would be weird?"
She rolled her eyes. "I promise, it would be less weird than you pretending to live out of a duffle bag." They leaned up against the counter and started working on their ice cream. "So?"
He realized she was still after an answer to her original question. "I don't think I have a good answer for you."
"Can I tell you what I know?" She looked up at him. "I know we all see you as a part of the family now, it's actually weird when you're not here. Kind of like it's weird when Stevie isn't here." One shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. "Just seems silly to pay for a place across town when you're here most of the week anyway."
"Team McCord, party of six?" His lips curled at the corners.
"Better numbers for game nights." She finished her treat and started for the stairs. "Blake, think about it. You're in our fridge at midnight without even worrying that anyone will care, in your pajamas. You started simply adding your dry cleaning to Mom and Dad's ages ago for convenience sake, you pitch in with groceries and school runs and everything else." She pointed out. "Laundry, chores, you even come and go when we're not here. Jason even asked Stevie and I ages ago why you were still pretending."
His brows knit together; he was already pondering on it so hard he almost missed her goodnight as she vanished up the stairs. Alone in the silence, Blake wandered through the first-floor darkness. The den was littered with the remains of a scrabble game that had been abandoned, the kitchen table was covered in school books Ali and Jason had been working on. He knew come morning Henry would be hollering up the stairs for them to move their stuff so everyone could eat. The kitchen was tidy, but he'd been the one after dinner to clean up, insisting it was his turn.
Walking toward the front of the house, Blake could see the way the streetlights glowed through the curtains, shadows of the night shift detail milling around out front. The entry made him pause. The coat tree had two of his own coats hanging among the McCords', a pair of his loafers at the base of the stairs forgotten, beside Henry's forgotten pair. The bowl on the entry table had his keys right along with theirs and his briefcase was tipped underneath in a pile caused by the way Elizabeth always simply dropped her bags, knocking his and Henry's over like dominos.
Turning to the office, he stood in the doorway. Henry's desk was spread with academic work, an abandoned coffee mug in the corner; Elizabeth's was a mountain of files in four stacks, two at either end. Her own plus his laptops asleep in the middle. Letting his eyes roam to room, he realized one shelf was holding more of the books he enjoyed, filed up off the floor at some point along the way. Perhaps Alison had a point and he was kidding himself, he was a part of Team McCord already.