“Well, it was really nice meeting you, Logan,” the girl sitting next to me says. Her name’s Courtney, a twenty-two-year-old in her final year of college. Her major: marine biology. I know all these things because for the two-hour flight from West Palm Beach, Florida to Charlotte, North Carolina, she hasn’t shut the hell up.

I’m pretty sure she’s flirting, or at least trying, and I’m also pretty sure that I’m annoyed by it. Or, maybe I’m just not used to it because I’ve spent the past four months in a detox, rehab, and intense therapy treatment facility where the only people I really spoke to were the therapists themselves.

Lucy and Amanda were the ones to find it. According to Amanda, it was one of the best treatment facilities in the country. Thank God I never went to college, because the four months there cost my dad the same as four years of education at the University of North Carolina. He says it’s money well spent, and honestly, I agree.

The treatment was only supposed to last two months, but Dad made it known prior that if I felt like I needed more time, I shouldn’t hesitate to stay. So, I stayed.

I had to make sure I was ready.

The extra two months helped me with that.

The only rule at the center I struggled with was no contact with the outside world, bar one person of my choosing who had to be approved by the therapists.

Of course, I chose Lucy.

She’s the reason I was there.

Well, her and my unborn niece.

Now, I keep my eyes on the seatbelt light, waiting for it to switch off, and murmur, not looking at Courtney, “You, too.”

As soon as the seatbelt light is off, I get out of my seat, shoulder my duffle bag—the only luggage I have—and practically run down to the exit. I told Lucy I didn’t want to make a big deal of my coming home and made her promise not to bring everyone with her. I didn’t want to create a scene at the airport with eleventy-three people. And the tears. God, I don’t think I could handle seeing my family cry any more than I have. My family—their reaction to everything—it was one of the reasons I stayed back those extra months. I wanted to be sure I knew how to handle their questions, their concerns, their unconditional love for me. It took all four months for me to accept that last one. For me to finally believe that I was worthy of it.

My heart beats wild in my chest while I look at the waiting faces outside the gates. I search and I search, and it seems to go forever. People walk left, walk right, walk right into my vision, and then, like in those sappy movies, the coast clears and I see her. She’s on her toes, biting her bottom lip. Lachlan is on one side. Leo on the other. Her belly… oh, my God. I find myself smiling, laughing to myself, and I slow my steps as I move toward them, taking in every single moment. My lucky penny shifts against my chest with every step, and I smile wider. I truly am lucky.

Lucy squeals when she finally sees me, starts running/waddling and I drop my bag, make sure I can catch her. She throws her arms around me, and I keep my lower half at a distance that won’t suffocate the baby. I don’t know how that stuff works, but I’m pretty sure any impact is bad impact. When she pulls away, I say, “Holy shit, Luce, you’ve gotten big.”

She glares.

I backpedal, “Not, like, fat. No, that’s not—”

I’m shaking my head, and she’s pursing her lips, and then an old lady approaches us and says, “You guys are such a sweet couple.”

Lucy drops her hands from my neck, sticks out her tongue and makes a gagging sound. “Ew! He’s my brother, you creep!”

“Luce!” I laugh out, then apologize to the woman on her behalf.

When the woman’s gone, Lucy says, “Pregnancy 101, Logan. You can pretty much get away with saying anything.” She smiles, so much like Mom. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, Luce.” I exhale, look over her to see my brothers walking toward us. “Honestly, I’ve never felt better.”

“Clean teen looks good on you,” she says, hugging me again.

I rear back so I can look down at her belly. “How’s my little princess doing?”

“She’s a feisty little one,” she says, letting go of me to rub her stomach. “She won’t stop kicking.”

When Lucy told me she was pregnant, she didn’t say exactly how pregnant she was. I didn’t find out until she was driving me to the airport that she was sixteen weeks. Four months. She said I was the first person she’d told. She’d been too scared to tell anyone in case there was a repeat of last time. Then she showed me her bare belly hidden beneath her loose shirt, and there was no doubting she was either pregnant or had just eaten way too many tacos. So, basic math… she was four months pregnant four months ago, which means she’s eight months now… and this baby of hers, my little princess, she’ll be arriving real soon.

Lachlan gives me a hug that challenges the strength of any hug I’ve ever received. He holds back tears that bring on my own. “I’m okay, now, Lachy. I promise.”

Through the weekly phone calls with Lucy, she’d told me about Lachlan. About how they all sat down with him and told him everything about me, past, present, and future. It wasn’t just so he understood what all I went through, but so that he knew if anything, anything, ever happened to him, he should feel comfortable enough to talk to someone about it. To not keep it inside. That no matter what was going on in anyone’s lives, we’d all be there for him. Always.

Leo gives me our standard bro hug—this one lasting a little longer than most. “You didn’t have to leave campus for this,” I tell him, picking up my duffle again.

He side-eyes Lucy. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I ask, settling my hand on Lachy’s shoulder as we walk toward the exit.

“I quit school, man.”

My steps falter. “Not for me, right?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need a college degree to join the police force. And honestly, I faked it for as long as I could, but I hate school.”

I stop to stare at him, to look right in his eyes. We’ve spent enough time together that I know his traits, his downfalls. His eyebrows rise when he lies, and as soon as he’s done, he chews his bottom lip, like he’s doing right now. I should call him out on it, but what would be the point? Instead, I laugh under my breath and shake my head, “Welcome to my world.”

Lachlan says, looking up at me, “So does that mean I can quit school, too?”

“No,” Lucy, Leo and I say in unison.

Lachlan’s laughter fills my ears, my heart.

Once we’re out of the airport, I stop to breathe in fresh air as if I’d been locked away for years. Someone calls my name, and I turn to see Courtney. She hands me a piece of paper—her number—and says, “You should call me. Maybe we can get together sometime.”

I take her number, shove it deep in my pocket. I won’t be using it. Won’t be needing it. “I’m really not looking to get involved right now,” I tell her.

Besides, my heart isn’t really mine to give away…

Leo drives back home, Lachlan in the front seat, Lucy and me in the back. When we get to town, my gaze searches—scarlet—and my mind wonders—scarlet—and I turn to Lucy, my eyes pleading. Her frown gives me the answer before her words do: “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “She’s gone, Logan.”

My family is all waiting for me on the front porch when we get to the house. I smile when I see them. Lucy grasps my arm, squeezes once. Leo turns to me. “Welcome home, little brother. We missed you something fierce.”

I try to hold back on my emotions through every hug from all my siblings, through their words of encouragement and pride that humble my heart. I keep it together for as long as I can, but when I’m standing in Dad’s office, alone with the man who’s believed in me beyond words, beyond reason, and I look into his eyes—eyes filled with tears, I break. I fall apart in his arms—arms of pure strength—and I grasp on to the back his t-shirt, apologize for everything I’ve put him through. He keeps his hold tight, unwavering, and I am six years old…

I am six years old and I’m lying in bed, terrified, the blankets pulled to my chin. I stare at the strip of light under the bedroom door, my eyes widening when I hear the sound…

Fee-fi-fo-fum…

A second later, the door opens, and Dad pokes his head inside. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“How did you know? I ask.

The mattress dips when he sits on the end of the bed. “Lucas shouldn’t have shown you the movie with the scary clown.”

“I not scared!” I shout, lying through my teeth.

“Oh, I know,” he says, his voice low so he doesn’t wake the other kids. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I nod, start to get out of the covers. “You can tell me anything.”

He dips his head, his mouth to my ear. “I’m scared, Logan. And I knew you’d be awake because you’d know that, and you’d worry about me. Right?”

I settle my hand on his huge leg. Nodding, I say, “It’s okay, Daddy. I’m here now.”

“But… I’m still scared.”

So am I, I don’t say. Because I want so badly to be just like him: brave and strong. “What can we do to make you feel better?”

His eyes wide, he asks, “Can you come downstairs with me… maybe eat a bowl of cereal?”

“I can pour the milk!”

On his shoulders, I giggle all the way out of the room and down the stairs, where it’s completely silent besides the clicking of Mom’s knitting needles. She’s sitting in her chair, her fingers moving but her eyes on us. “The rest of the kids are in bed,” she tells us, but she’s smiling. Not as big as I am. I don’t think anyone could ever smile as big as I am. Mom asks, scowling at us, “What are you two up to?”

Dad helps me down from his shoulders, holds my hand in his as we walk toward the kitchen. “We’re having some quality man time.” He ruffles my hair. “Just me and my boy.”