I was running late for work. I made a mad dash through the kitchen, grabbed my wallet and keys, and was met by Pops, who stood there with a piece of toast in one hand and a travel mug of tea in the other. “Have a good day,” he said with a smile.

His breathing had improved with a change of medication. His general health was stable, and the smile he wore every day now was worth every fight I had with the government to subsidise his medical costs and get better care. And his pension. And CJ’s carer’s allowance.

“Is CJ at work already?” I asked with a mouthful of toast.

Pops nodded. “Can’t keep him away.”

I grinned and backed out, pushing the door open with my butt. “See you tonight.” He waved me off and I shoved more toast in and headed next door. The roller door was up, and I could hear CJ talking on the phone as I walked in.

I stood at his office door, smiling as he wrote down a name in the appointment book. Yes, he wrote. It hadn’t been easy, and there had been many Writing and Reading workbooks thrown in frustration, but we were getting there. Spending a lazy evening lying on the sofa with him reading to me was one of my favourite ways to unwind. CJ was now at high school level reading and writing, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

I looked down at the appointment book, to where he’d written the name Franklin, along with Ford Explorer and 8 am. He’d spelt it all perfectly and I could have just about burst. He hung up the phone. “Full service tomorrow.” He beamed. “And you’ll be late for work if you don’t hurry. Sheryl will bust your arse.”

“It’s your fault. Keeping me busy this morning.” I smirked at him, not complaining at all. “I don’t get to live next door to my work, unlike some.”

It was uncanny how one of the worst things to happen to CJ could turn into the best things. His father dying was a difficult time for him; reconciling the grief and loss he felt for a man he hated and loved in equal measure was a lot to deal with.

The police report had ruled his death as an accident. From where the fire had started and the blood alcohol levels in the autopsy, they believe he fell asleep or passed out with a lit cigarette.

Ironic, CJ had said, that they’d fought so often about him smoking in the house. And CJ quit smoking the day after the funeral. In true CJ form, he did it cold turkey, just made up his mind and stuck to it.

Of course his father had no will and testament, and after two years of legal to-ing and fro-ing, the land on Davis Road was sold to a local developer. After legal expenses, CJ requested the money be split equally amongst all brothers⁠—true to his nature, CJ was nothing if not fair. He wanted no more or no less than anyone else, even if they were all incarcerated and would probably never see a cent of it.

The town of Ten Mile Creek was thriving again, with the new estate built and plans for more housing, and new plans for two estates down Davis Road. The shop got a facelift, the butcher’s reopened, and even a café started up. Mr Barese’s mechanics shop got busier and busier, and claiming he was getting too old for it, he offered to sell it to CJ, adjoining house and all.

So, CJ and I joined finances, took out a business loan, and had been the proud owner-operators of a house and Davis Mechanical for over a year. CJ had passed his apprenticeship in record time and was a fully qualified mechanic. Even had his car licence now as well. Pops helped out, keeping the office tidy and washing windscreens for the people who got fuel. He loved a chat, and they kept that old-fashioned service that Mr Barese had built the business on.

I kept my job as a parole officer. I got a reprimand after they discovered I had officially begun a relationship with a parolee the day he was no longer a parolee. I was pretty sure they knew, unofficially it began before that, but our stories had matched and there wasn’t much else they could do.

And anyway, I was bloody good at my job. I had a one hundred per cent positive strike rate with my case files; not one went back to prison. I went above and beyond, getting them extra qualifications, pushing the envelope in getting them scholarships and bursaries for courses, and not taking no for an answer when it came to bureaucrats who tried to dodge responsibility. I’d even had my colleagues follow suit. I knew they only did it just so they didn’t look bad compared to me when it came to our employment appraisals, but I didn’t care. Our cases were getting a better deal. Last year, our office had the best ratio statistics in the state.

I’d even got a young street kid, who got busted for stealing a car, an apprenticeship with CJ. Her name was Stevie. She was a good, smart kid, who just got dealt a really shitty hand in life. Her parents didn’t give a shit, and her teachers were happiest when she skipped school.

Her story was almost identical to CJ’s, except whereas he had Pops, she had no one.

Until her case landed on my desk, and I got a sense of déjà vu reading her file. She was alone and scared, angry, and had a chip on her shoulder the size of a small country. Just like CJ used to be. And apparently, with little more than a hammer and a socket wrench, she could break down an engine in less than a day. I made some calls, introduced her to CJ, and watched him become a mentor and she a student in a heartbeat.

“Stevie’ll be here soon,” CJ said. “And you better get to work.”

I nodded. “I’ll be home before The Bold and the Beautiful.”

CJ laughed. “You and Pops, I swear.”

“You watch it too, don’t lie.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” Then I remembered. “Oh, Gallan and Anthony invited us around for a BBQ this weekend. Told him I’d ask you.”

He smiled. “Sure. Sunday’s good.” Then he pretended to scold me. “Go. To. Work.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” I grinned like a fool the whole way there. And work was busy but productive. I made house calls and work placement calls to clients and a hundred phone calls for them. I got one guy signed up for his forklift licence, another guy a house-painting gig, and one lady a place in a Retail Baking course at TAFE.

All in all, it was a bloody good day.

But I was keen to get home. I always was. CJ, Pops, and me made an awesome team, and we just worked. I told them they could live with me when their house burned down, for as long or as little as they needed. But we got on so well, them moving out never happened.

I walked inside and found Pops stirring something on the stove that smelt good. “Hey,” I greeted him.

“Oh, hi Noah,” he said warmly. “CJ’s in taking a shower. He was all weird about something, but he wouldn’t say so I quit asking.”

I frowned. “Was he okay?”

He gave me a smile. “Oh yes. Nothing to be worried about, I’m sure.” He looked at the clock. “Time for our soaps soon.”

Yep, at five thirty, like religion, we watched The Bold and the Beautiful. It was Pops’ favourite show, and CJ knew enough about it by association, so I started to catch bits and pieces and that shit is addictive.

I fell into the sofa and Pops sat in his new recliner, and when CJ came out, he was freshly showered, his hair all brushed neat, and he’d shaven like he was going somewhere. “Have you got a hot date tonight?” I joked.

He rolled his eyes and sat next to me, then leaned against me. I put my arm over his chest and he linked our hands. But he was fidgety and distracted. “You okay?” I asked him quietly.

He nodded. Then after a moment, he shook his head. “No.” He sat up off me and stood up, then he paced.

He was starting to scare me. “CJ, what is it?”

He stopped and stared at me, then like he made some decision in his head, he said, “I didn’t know how to do this, and Stevie suggested I do something fancy. Like a dinner? Or maybe take a drive somewhere pretty.” He swallowed hard. “But then I thought, this is us. Right here, this is us, here watching TV with Pops, this is what we do. We don’t need nothin’ fancy. This is our family right here, right?”

I was confused. “Clinton, baby. What are you talking about?”

“I was tellin’ Stevie that family is who you make it. Blood don’t always make someone family, and I was telling her how we’re a family. Even though we’re not really. Not officially anyway. And she said we should be, like make it real. And at first I laughed and asked her if she wanted me to adopt you and she cracked up and said, ‘No, silly. Marry him.’”

Oh.

Oh, holy shit.

He went to one knee in front of me. “Noah Huxley. You are the most incredible man I know.” He looked like he might very well vomit and he swallowed hard, and my heart skidded to a stop. “When I think of family, I think of Pops, and I think of you. But we’re not really a family, and I want us to be. A legal one. So, will you make us into a real family? Will you marry me?”

I stared at him.

He blinked rapidly and looked down at the floor. “Or adopt me. Either works.”

I grabbed hold of his face and kissed him, standing up and bringing him to his feet with me. I was laughing and in complete and utter shock, kissing him and laughing some more.

“So is that a yes?” he asked.

I had to wipe my eyes. “Hell yes, that’s a yes.”

Then I noticed Pops was on his feet next to us. He was grinning and teary, and CJ hugged him too. “Pops, will you be my best man?”

Pops had to sit down, and he cried for an hour straight. We missed The Bold and The Beautiful and dinner was ruined, but we didn’t care.

Unofficially, we were already a family, in our own way. But now we were going to be a real family. Officially, and forever.