40. Connor

It was strange, rolling up to a suburban barbecue with a significant chunk of my New York posse in tow, but Everett had insisted it was fine, and I was hesitant to deny Trevor a single moment of Jessie time.

He... fit better like this. Not feeling responsible for their choices and their livelihood, he could be fun instead of controlling. Roll his eyes instead of complaining.

Maybe it was just that Xavier made him happy enough that those little things didn't matter so much anymore. I'd been nervous about him coming to Cider Landing, staying at the inn.

Fuck, I'd expected him to say something rude when I told him I was seeing Mattias.

But no. He'd been fine. Perfectly pleasant. Smiling and satisfied and excited to see Jessie.

There'd be stuff to figure out—if Jessie was going to spend any time in the city, if Trevor would just come here for visits.

I was... hesitant, to send Jessie off without me. But Trevor hadn't asked for that yet, hadn't demanded a damn thing, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something had to go wrong, right? Everything had been so wrong for so long that it was impossible to believe I could really relax into being this happy. I hadn't earned this.

And whenever I voiced my doubts to Mattias, he'd hug me until it felt easier to breathe and tell me that actually, I had earned this. He thought I was incredible. I thought he was... quite possibly too nice. Maybe perfect.

Definitely worth taking care of. So yeah, buying part of an inn that meant the world to Mattias, that I'd planned on moving into anyway? Not a problem. Not remotely a problem.

All I wanted was for everyone I cared about to be okay, to be taken care of, and Wilson's seal of approval on the whole thing had taken a load off my shoulders. I trusted him. If he thought I wasn't fucking up—yeah, I was doing the right thing.

The sun was high in the sky in the early afternoon as we got to Everett and Peter's house. It was a perfect, charming little thing. Vintage but also fresh in a way that spoke to Peter's strange magic. Once I learned about that, I'd been waiting for Jessie to start zipping around the room, hanging out on the ceiling. Luckily, the only thing that'd been weird so far was they—they kept a real frog in their pocket. Talked to it sometimes.

And, well, easy enough to get the frog a little terrarium and pretend that it was perfectly normal, right?

Mattias had brought some potato and cheese concoction that smelled absolutely sinful in a casserole dish, and Jessie had agreed to let Wilson carry the cookie tray only after we'd told them that they couldn't. Still, they followed Wilson across the yard to the buffet table to put them down, and Mattias went to the other end where the sides were laid out.

I watched from the sidelines. At the end of the day, this was still... weird. No one was backstabbing, measuring each other up as they drifted around chatting. It was the opposite of the big parties of rich vultures I was used to.

And I got to wear my comfy shirt.

"If I didn't know better, Darling, I'd say you were scared." Trevor drifted up to me, a drink in his hand.

"Is it bad that I kind of... am?"

He laughed.

"Seriously," I insisted. "I mean, these people are all... normal."

"And you're not?"

Deflated, I shrugged.

"Oh, Con, you are the most perfectly normal person alive. Look at you in your khaki dad pants with your perfect little family and your conservative haircut."

I glared. "Nothing about me is conservative."

Trev grinned. "Okay, politically, no, but... you like this. You wanted this, right? And I think it wants you back. They want you back."

Over by the grill, Everett's head popped up and he waved at us.

"I do want this," I whispered.

"So," Trev said and waved a hand out at the party, "it's yours. You're good at people, you know? Total charmer. Nobody's thinking you don't fit except you."

I sighed through my nose. He was right. I was being ridiculous. I just—if I could hold onto everything I had right then, my life would be perfect.

And I was so fucking scared I was going to lose it all again.

"I noticed there's another bird painting in our room this time," Trevor mused, hands on his hips. "You remember the first time we came here? You had that ridiculously thick Audubon book that you kept trying to fit in your pocket."

I cringed, and he laughed.

"It's good. Cute. But that right there"—he raised his red plastic cup at Mattias, who glanced our way, realized we'd caught him, and turned quickly back to the food—"is a guy who's going to listen to you go on about birds without groaning in agony. I'm not gonna say I get this whole Cider Landing thing or why you'd ever want to stay here, but I can see that you're happy. I'm glad. For what it's worth, me too. I... don't want you to worry."

I scowled. "About what?"

"Jessie," he said, so I turned to look at him straight on. "They've always been yours. You're the one who brought kids up, who found the surrogate, who paid for everything. You wanted this so much, and having kids was never really that high on my priority list. I—I think I was trying to make our pieces fit together in a way they just... didn't. I wanted you to be happy. And don't get me wrong, I love the fuck out of that kid. I want to see them. Often. But I'm not really cut out to be a dad, and Xavier and I have talked it over and—well, I'm just saying, we'll defer to you. Whatever you want and what's good for them. If that's Cider Landing, great. Just, like, don't disappear. Come to the city every once in a while. We'll come shake things up here. Video chat. Whatever."

I took a deep, slow breath. It was... honestly, what I wanted. I didn't want to be parted from Jessie for weekends or summers or—at all. And I certainly didn't want to crash back into the middle of Trevor's life like I still fit there. But?—

"I don't want to take anything from you," I said hoarsely.

Trevor smiled, reaching over to grab my arm. "You're not. You never gave up on them. I... did. And I'm going to need time to grapple with that. Or, you know, drink enough tequila not to grapple with it."

Okay, yeah, maybe Jessie didn't need to be there for all that.

"I'm serious," Trevor insisted. "I love them, love you, approve wholeheartedly of your small-town mega chef boy toy?—"

"My partner?"

Trev scoffed. "Sure, that. Anyway, what I'm saying is that this feels right to me, and we can... communicate. Not get weird about it. I like my freedom, Con. I like staying out late and dragging my ass to morning spin without having to worry about packing lunches and maybe that makes me selfish, but I'm sure as fuck not going to demand you give up the things you actually enjoy, the things Jessie needs, to play a role I'm not even good at. I just... don't want them to think I don't care?"

"We'll work on it," I promised. "We can do this."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "So damn loyal. Like... not a golden retriever. Maybe a Saint Bernard? You have big dog energy."

"I . . . don't know whether or not to be offended by that . . . "

Trev clapped my shoulder, laughing and giving me no straight answer. I looked around for Jessie, like I could rush over and convince them that they were loved and wanted and?—

A flash of blond curls caught my eye, and a smile grew on my face until I realized they were too long. They fell across the shoulders of a little girl in a white lacy dress and my breath caught in my throat.

Aurora. Aurora was there, leaning over to watch Peter stir some kind of terrifying Jell-O salad that always made its way to these kinds of things.

And Jessie was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are they?" I rasped.

Trevor took a sip of his drink and looked at me. "What? Who?"

"Jessie. Where is Jessie?"