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"I can't—I can't be dependent on you guys. I won't be. If you really want me to come back with you—"

"We do," Jax says.

I nod at him and keep going. "It can't be like it was. I have to contribute, you know?"

Adam frowns. "Like…?"

"Paying bills." I look to Deandre. "Helping out in the workshop." Jax. "Or the mill." Back to Adam. "The fucking dishes, even."

"Baby girl." Deandre's brows furrow, his jaw dropping. "I didn't know you felt like that."

"Because I didn't say it. You were all being so nice to me, and I appreciate that." God, do I ever. In hindsight, Richard was never so kind. So accommodating. "But if we're going to do this, I want to build a life together. And that means I have to be a part of your household."

"We thought we were giving you room," Cayden explains. "Your grandmother's house…"

"Needs work," I supply. "And I'll do it. But it's not a full time job."

"What about your art?" Sergio asks.

"It's just a hobby."

Deandre crosses his arms. "Like hell."

Reaching out, Cayden places his palm on me knee. "What you made is beautiful. We want to support you to make more of it."

"It goes both ways," Sergio says. Everything gets quiet for a minute. Then he shrugs, going on. "You think you need to do more to be part of our family? Okay. Do more. But then you have to let us make room for you to do things that are foryou. And that includes painting—or whatever else it is you need to do."

"Oh." I hadn't thought of it that way.

"We'll find a balance," Cayden promises. "You just have to tell us what you need."

My stomach twists. "That's hard for me."

"Then we'll help you work on it," Deandre says.

I swallow. A weight settles over the room, warm and comforting, like a blanket.

"Soooo… what?" I dart my gaze among the guys. "Is that it? We just go home now and live like a giant commune?"

"Damn right." Jax smirks, pumping his fist.

Only it's not that easy. Not for me.

And this is the final sticking point. I have to bring it up.

"But…" I wring my hands in my lap. "Won't people talk? Eventually? We can't stay hidden up on that mountain forever. My dad will want to visit someday, maybe. Probably. Once my grandmother's house sells, everyone will know that I'm not living there. What do we tell them? What will they think?"

I'm spiraling. Hard. I need to pull up on the stick, bring myself to rights again.

But in the end, Sergio is the one to do it.

"Why do you care?" he asks.

The question steals my breath away.

39

Why do you care?It's such a simple question. It should be easy to answer—right?