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“You know I’ll be living here with all of them, right?”

“And Bea. Yes, they’re your family, I understand that.” She’s fought me on this. Encouraged me into therapy, worried I’m stuck in old habits. But I’m not. And my therapist agrees. This is just who I am, and they are who I love. How we came together may be unconventional, but nothing is going to change how we feel about one another. “I was thinking you could use some of your money to tear down a few walls and make a big bedroom and a room for Bea next door.” She grins. “Maybe add a family room to the back?”

As she talks, I can envision it. The six of us in the kitchen where Silas and I ate our first Pop Tarts. A freshly painted living room with a sectional and big TV. A room decorated just for Bea—the sunshine in our life.

A place for us to continue to heal, to grow, and figure out what to do with our lives.

Together.

“Please.” Mom holds out the key. “Take it.”

I hold out my hand and she drops the key into my palm. I rush over, engulfing her in a hug. This is what Anex took from me. My mom. My history. My truth. But in this house, I’ll rebuild it, we’ll rebuild it, one indulgence at a time.