bChapter 96/bb: /bbLa /bbPOV /b

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    Morning settles over the house on Sunday in soft, golden streaks–curling around the edges of the kitchen, and slipping under the crack of my bedroom curtains like it’s been

    invited in.

    I sit cross–legged on the floor, one knee bouncing without meaning to, as I fold another

    hoodie into the duffel bag that looks way too small for everything I’ve crammed into it. The zipper’s already protesting. So is the part of me that wants to pretend that today isn’t a big deal.

    Mason sits beside me, ‘helping‘ with the kind of intensity that could probably power a small city. He’s already packed three socks (none of which match), a battered dinosaur, two of his favorite crayons, and, somehow, Tessa’s best wooden spoon.

    “It’s for emergencies,” he says solemnly, his eyes wide behind his mess of morning curls.

    “Obviously,” I murmur with a tender smile as I zip it carefully into the side pocket like

    we’re prepping for a heist.

    Tessa leans against the doorframe, a coffee mug cradled in her hands, watching with that quiet, wry amusement she’s perfected. The kind that doesn’t need words to say I’m iproud /iof youi. /iThe kind that never makes a big thing out of something that already matters.

    “You sure you don’t want to take Mason with?” she asks, sipping slowly on the ck goodness in her mug. “He’s got excellent security instincts; he even bites people on

    Mason beams up at me, confirming, “I have sharp teeth,” and then snaps said teeth in my direction with a resounding click.

    I reach over and ruffle his hair, the strands warm and soft against my fingers, as I say, “Tempting. But I think your mom needs you more, bud. Someone’s gotta keep her from eating ice cream straight from the tub every night.”

    Tessa gasps, her hand to her heart like she’s been personally attacked, and says offendedly, “You little traitor.”

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    Chapter 96: La POV

    Mason grins gap–toothed, then hands me another random sock to put in my duffel bag.

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    When I zip my bag closed 30 minutester, the room feels smaller. It’s not heavy or sad. It’s more like the room knows its role in my story is changing.

    This guest bedroom held me when I needed to fall apart. It made room for my mess, but it was never supposed to be permanent. And maybe, for the first time, that doesn’t feel

    like a loss.

    I push to my feet and brush invisible lint from my backside. When I turn, Tessa’s already moving toward me.

    She wraps her arms around me, with no speech and no big sister lecture on her lips. Just a hug thatnds with the weight of everything we’ve never had to say out loud. Her coffee mug rests against my shoulder, and her breath brushes my hair as she murmurs, “I’m proud of you. Not because you’re leaving. But because you’re choosing something better for yourself.”

    My throat tightens like it’s bracing itself against an onught of emotions or tears. I hold on harder to her until breathing starts getting difficult, but I still don’t let go.

    When we finally pull back, she wipes under her eyes quickly, not making a thing of it. “You better visit,” she says, her voice rough around the edges. “Or I’m showing up at your new ce with a suitcase and no warning.”

    “Only if you bring snacks,” I manage to say with a small smile.

    “Non–negotiable,” she says matter–of–factly before she turns and walks from the room.

    The knock at the front door is sharp and eager, as if the person behind it has never been subtle or patient a day in their life.

    Mason bolts down the hallway, his socks skidding on the hardwood floor. “I’ll get it!” he yells like it’s a race.

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    Chapter 96: La POV

    Tessa and I share a look–equal parts amusement and bracing for whatever chaos has just arrived on her doorstep.

    b73 /b

    When Mason swings the door open, four familiar figures fill the porch. Three of them are grinning broadly. One (Xavier, iobviously/i) looks like someone convinced him to

    participate under threat of bodily harm.

    Mason nts his feet like a soldier, crosses his arms, and asks in a serious tone that could rival seasoned businessmen, “Who are you?”

    Cade crouches down immediately, all seriousness, as he answers, “Official moving crew, sir. We’re certified and everything.”

    Mason narrows his eyes and asks earnestly, “Are your hands clean?”

    Cade wiggles his fingers dramatically in front of Mason’s face and asks skeptically, “Define clean?”

    Mason frowns suspiciously as he searches Cade’s face, then asks, “Can you lift heavy stuff?”

    Hunter is the one to answer this time, standing up straighter like a solemn knight: “Yes,

    sir.”

    Mason shifts hisser focus to Xavier. “Are you gonna be kind to La?” he reiterates his question fromst Sunday morning when Xavier brought me here so I could get dressed after my sleepover at their house.

    Xavier doesn’t blink as he answers, “Always. I still remember the deal we’ve made.”

    Then he turns his attention to AJ and deadpans, “You look like trouble.”

    AJ shrugs, unfazed as ever, and answers, “She’s worse,” as he points his finger in my direction.

    Mason considers this for a long moment, his eyes narrowing on each of them for a final time, and then he nods as he says, “You’ll do.”

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    With that, he steps aside like a tiny emperor granting them entry to his pce.

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    They move through the house like a controlled storm. My couple of bags vanish from the corners of my room and are tossed over their broad shoulders. Cade pretends every pillow of mine weighs a hundred pounds, groaning dramatically and shouting about crushed vertebrae, causing Mason to giggle at his antics.

    Tessa leans against the kitchen counter and smiles into her coffee like she’s watching some miracle unfold.

    I stand in the middle of it all, unmoving, just watching, after four brutish guys have ordered me to stand back and ‘let the men work‘.

    After everything’s been carted off to Hunter’s truck, and the guys said goodbye to Tessa and Mason, I bend down to grab the strap of my messenger bag. I sling it over my shoulder with more certainty than I’ve felt in a while, but it doesn’t feel faked this time.

    When I try to return Tessa’s spare key, she pushes it back in my hand and says, “Everybody needs a second safe space, and from now on, this is yours.”

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