Page 60 of Steadfast

“I’m just glad to be shopping,” I said, looking his way. “Takeout is getting old.”

“Aunt Ashley doesn’t cook,” he said with a laugh.

“Clearly.”

“At least you know that you’ll stay skinny even if you eat absolute junk all the time,” he joked. “You look just like her.”

“Oh, good.” I rolled my eyes. “That was at the top of my list of worries. Plus, I’m not skinny.”

He just shrugged.

“The kids are taking all of this pretty well,” I said as we started down another aisle.

“You mean beyond Aisling crying herself to sleep a couple of times.”

“Our mom just died,” I replied. “I’m more worried about Ronan. He’s barely said anything.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I just thought he’d at least, I don’t know, say something.”

“He’s sad,” Cian said, throwing a bag of cookies into the cart. I let it slide. “But you know he’s the most logical out of all of us when he’s not being a pain in the ass.”

“Even logical people are upset when their parents die.”

“His parent didn’t die,” Cian said casually, walking ahead of me. “His parent is grocery shopping.”

I stopped in the middle of the aisle. Stunned.

“Keep it moving,” he ordered, pulling on the cart.

I started walking again.

“We’re all feeling it,” he said, his voice a little lower. “But I think Ash and Ro feel it differently than us. We remember the good shit, you know? They’re too little to remember how it used to be.”

“Yeah,” I agreed softly.

“I think they’re missing Richie more,” he said, looking back at me before turning forward again. “You gonna call him?”

“What’s the point?” I asked dully.

I’d wrestled with the decision every day since we got to Oregon. Richie was probably frantic with worry, but I was too much of a coward to call him. I was afraid if I heard his voice, I’d give in and tell him to follow us. The longer we went without speaking, the harder it was.

“You know, we might be able to go back,” Cian said, raising his eyebrows. “If Aunt Ashley can get it all settled.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” I replied, stopping in the middle of the baking aisle. “That social worker was pretty fucking clear.”

“Yeah, but Aunt Ashley said it’s different if she’s the legal guardian, and she shifts it to you.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible. Sounds like bullshit.”

“It could happen.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I warned him. All of us were missing our house and everything familiar, but I couldn’t even think about moving home again. I’d focused so hard on getting us to Aunt Ashley that the idea of living in our house with the kids seemed like a pipe dream. Unattainable. Outlandish.

“We’ll probably have to go back to empty the house, at least,” Cian reminded me. “If we’re selling it.”

“I was talking to Aunt Ashley about that,” I said, putting a bag of flour into the cart. “If the house is paid off like she thinks, it might be smarter to rent it out for a while. It would be extra income.”

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