Page 68 of Steadfast

“Including tools,” I mused, staring at the toolbox by my head.

“Have to work, baby,” he reminded me. “Wherever we’re living.”

“You were really prepared to move out here,” I said softly, almost to myself.

“Told you that.”

“I know, I just—”

“Didn’t believe me?”

“Nothing has ever gone right,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder. “I believed you, I just have a hard time trusting it.”

“We’ll work on that,” he said groggily.

I smiled as I stared at the night sky. I wondered if we’d fool around, but as his breathing slowed into the familiar snuffling sounds, I cuddled in closer and closed my eyes. I wanted his hands on me, but we had plenty of time.

It was the first night since we’d left home that I didn’t wake up once.

We spent the next day getting ready for the trip back. Oddly, when we’d left we’d been able to pack and head out in less than an hour but it took all day to round up everything we’d brought with us. Cian and Richie went into town to get my tire fixed and rent a trailer so we could pull my car behind Richie’s truck. I wanted to argue with him about the expense, but neither of us wanted to spend all day apart so soon…and I had to admit that I wasn’t sure my car would even make the trip back.

Ronan, Saoirse, and Cian agreed to ride with Aunt Ashley in the motorhome, excited about the novelty of being able to walk around while she was driving—even though she assured me she wouldn’t let them—but Aisling insisted on riding with me and Richie. I hadn’t really noticed how clingy she’d become because we were always together, but once Richie was there, and we never had a moment alone it was glaringly obvious.

I figured it probably wasn’t abnormal after all the upheaval, so I pretended not to notice.

Monday morning, we headed east again. As we passed the spot where I’d run over the tree branch, I told Richie the story about the bikers who stopped to help us while Aisling peppered in extra details she remembered. He laughed a little at my description of Cian kicking my flat tire, then grew serious as I described watching him disappear down the hill. His hands were tight on the steering wheel until I was finished, and the look he shot me warned me of all kinds of trouble if I ever pulled such a stupid stunt again.

“He was Irish,” Aisling said happily. “And he said our names right. No one ever says our names right.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Richie said, looking down at her.

“The little man said that Cian should come and work for them,” Aisling chattered on. “But he’s not old enough, so he said when he’s an adult, he’s gonna go and get a job.”

“No he’s not,” I muttered darkly.

“The little man?” Richie asked.

“One of them was considerably bigger than the other one,” I explained.

“That’s what he said,” Aisling argued stubbornly, still stuck on Cian wanting to work with the bikers at their garage.

“I’m sure he did,” I replied.

“Problem for a different day,” Richie said, shooting me a calming look. “We’ve got years before he’s done with school. He probably won’t even remember by then.”

“Thank the good Lord,” I said, looking back out my window.

Richie laughed.

The drive home felt considerably faster than the drive to Aunt Ashley’s, probably because I wasn’t terrified out of my mind, I didn’t have to drive through the night with weak ass headlights, and since Richie was driving I fell asleep with Aisling for a couple of hours. It was late evening when Richie carefully parked at the curb in front of our house.

“It looks exactly the same,” I murmured to myself.

“What did you think would happen in a week and a half?” Richie asked teasingly as he hopped out of the truck. He waited while Aisling scooted across the seat so he could help her down.

“Hurry up,” Saoirse said, knocking on my window. “Aunt Ashley wouldn’t let us pee in the RV while we were driving, and I have togo.”

I led the way back into the house, and I turned lights on as I moved through the rooms. Everything was different now, but it looked exactly the same. It was a massive mind-fuck.

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