Page 6 of Everywhere You Look

“I know that. I know that you’ve got my back, and you’ll always answer the phone and blah blah blah. But eventually, you’ll be back in Tennessee, and I’ll be here. I have no family, Dean. Gigi was it. I’ll have your sister and Warren next door, but they’ve got their own kid and a baby on the way. I can’t rely on them for help all the time and I have no one left here in the city. I pushed away all my friends from the Redwoods. Some of them showed up today, but that’s just professional courtesy. I made them all hate me and now I’m alone and I–” my breathing picks up as I start to spiral again, but Dean presses one finger to my lips, gently shushing me.

“Luke, you’re not hearing me. I’m not just going to be there to answer the phone when you call me.I’m not going to just be here for you in spirit. I’m going to be here. In this house, with you and the girls. I’ll be here every single day, helping you do right by your sister. Seriously, did you think I would ever leave you alone with this? If so, you’re out of your mind. You’re going to get sick of me so quick, but you and me, Luke? We’re going to be an unstoppable team. Lemmie, Mellie and Ollie are going to be so well taken care of. I’ve got you.”

His finger drifts from my lips to my jaw, tracing across my face until he reaches the piece of hair hanging in my face and tucks it behind my ear. In any other setting, I might wonder about just howintimateDean’s touch feels, but I know it’s all just his way of trying to take care of me.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I look around us, taking in the lilac curtains, the pink appliances, and the walls covered in family photos and children’s artwork. There’s stuff everywhere. Knick-knacks and tchotchkes litter every surface of the kitchen, the living room, the bathrooms. That was Gigi. She never met a little boutique shop full of unnecessary crap that she didn’t love, and her house shows it.

But when Gigi was here, this house was what she called “organized chaos”. Now that she’s goneand I’m in charge…there’s no organization, only chaos.

There are toys scattered around the floor, the backyard, the front yard, the car. A week’s worth of laundry has built up and is nearly bursting out of the laundry room, which smells like musk, body odor and baby dribble. There are fruits and vegetables slowly rotting in a bowl by the window that I haven’t bothered to throw out yet because I can’t be fucked to do anything but try to keep three kids alive without falling into a pit of despair.

This place is a mess. My life is a mess. There’s no way Dean wants any part of this.

“You’re crazy, Dean. You’re just going to abandon your life in Tennessee?—”

“What life in Tennessee? Luke, I’ve spent more time in San Francisco since your injury than anywhere else. I don’t own my place in Knoxville. I can’t even remember the last time I slept in my bed there. Hell, I barely remember the code for the door lock. If I’m not here in the city, I’m up on McKenna Mountain with my dads. Even Pops and IronDad spend more time in San Francisco at their place in Seacliff than in Tennessee. I loved Gigi, I love you, and I love those three little girls. I’ll have to go back and get some stuff settled, drop off my plants at Tía Camila’s for her to take care of, since I’m pretty sure Ican’t bring non-native plants into California. But my life is here, Luke. I’m not abandoning anything by staying.”

More tears brim at my eyelids, clouding my vision and causing Dean’s face to blur. Despite that, I can see the sincerity swimming in his bright gray eyes.

I can feel it, too, right in the center of my chest.

“So, what, you’re just going to move in here? Change diapers, braid hair, go to ballet lessons and Girl Scouts meetings with me?” I ask, exasperation lacing my voice.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he says with a nod.

“Oh yeah? For how long? Because I gotta tell you, Dean, going from a retired bachelor to caring for three kids overnight is no walk in the fucking park. I’ve only been at it a few days and I’m already exhausted.”

Dean’s hand cups my cheek, his palm brushing against the scruff of my beard that I haven’t bothered to trim since Gigi died.

“I’ll be here to help you raise those girls for as long as you need me, Luke. You’ll have to boot me out of here kicking and screaming when we send Ollie off to college. And besides, nothing can be worse than caring for your grumpy ass when youwere recovering from surgery. I’d rather deal with daily twin tantrums and change a thousand dirty Ollie diapers than have to help you on and off the toilet ever again, my dude.”

I laugh in spite of myself. I don’t love thinking about that period post-injury when I was constantly being worked on, and I really don’t love asking others for help. But when I truly could not perform the most basic of human functions—like going to the bathroom on my own—I quickly learned that I needed to put my pride to the side and lean on the people around me.

Just like I’m going to have to do now.

I look at my best friend and see the hopefulness in his face, the way the skin by the corners of his mouth crinkles when he smiles. To others, those little lines might be nothing more than a sign of age, but to me? To me, the crinkles at the corners of Dean’s lips are the warm remnants of the thousands of smiles he’s tossed my way over the years. Smiles that ground me, soothe me, make me smile when all I feel like doing is crying.

If I were a better man, I’d fight him harder on this. I wouldn’t let him put his own life on the shelf again. He already did that for me last year when he refused to leave my side during my recovery. I shouldn’t let him move into this house with me and play the roleof a parent in this sick and twisted play I’ve found myself center-stage in.

But I’m not a better man. I’m a desperate, grieving man who needs to shelve his pride and learn not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I look into Dean’s greenish-gray eyes and, for the first time since Gigi died, I feel my lips turning up into an actual smile.

“Alright, then. If you’re moving in, does that mean we’re Full House-ing this thing? I’m Uncle Jesse. You’re Joey and we’re both trying our best to find our inner Danny Tanner?” I ask, and Dean lets out a barking laugh as his arms slink around my waist. I widen my legs to make room for him, and he steps into the space to pull me into a tight hug.

“Yeah, babe. You’re Jesse, I’m Joey, and we are so Full House-ing this thing.”

3

OUR VERY FIRST DAY

Dean

“Are you really just going to sit there on your ass and watch while I bring all this shit inside?” I huff as I come into a low squat to lift a box full of my football memorabilia from the bed of the moving truck. I parked on the back side of the house since the city doesn’t allow oversized street parking in this neighborhood, which means I have to carry all my stuff across my sister’s backyard, through to Luke’s and up the stairs.

After five trips, I’m already exhausted.

“Yes, Dean.” Warren, Kira’s husband, chastises me. “Your sister is absolutely going to sit here on her perfect ass and watch while you bring your shit inside. My wife is pregnant. She’s not lifting agoddamn thing.” The two of them are lounging in pastel yellow Adirondack chairs, sipping on lavender lemonade with Tajín on the rim while they watch me struggle. I drop the box at my feet, wincing at the rattle and hoping nothing inside broke, but I need both hands to argue with my brother-in-law.

“I was talking to you, Warren. You’re not currently growing any new McKenna’s inyourwomb. What’s the matter, old man? Are your ancient joints too achy for a little manual labor?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips and raising a brow. Warren just smirks at me while Kira’s eyes bounce back and forth between us, following the show like it’s a verbal tennis match.

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