Calmly, Carefully, Completely(81)

Dad: It’s 11:30 at night, Reagan.

Me: Dad, it’s fine.

Dad: Do I have to drive up there and kill that boy?

Me: Not today.

Dad: Let me know when I need to.

I laugh.

Me: Okay.

Dad: Text me tomorrow to tell me you’re alive.

Me: Love you!

Dad: Love you too.

Pete opens my door and leans on his elbows in the doorway. “Hi,” he says. “You ready to go upstairs?”

I grin. I can’t help it. I move to get out, but Pete blocks me. “You know I don’t have any expectations about tonight, right?” he asks.

“I know.” I do know. He would never make me do anything I don’t want to do. “Can I still stay?”

He pulls me from the car and goes to the trunk to get my bag. But it’s a big bag. I was going home, after all.

“Just this one,” I say, picking up my cosmetic bag. “I can get the rest when I go home tomorrow. No need to lug it up the elevator.”

He chuckles. “You are spoiled, aren’t you?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I don’t understand.

He puts my bag on his shoulder, along with his backpack, and takes my hand. “We’re on the fourth floor. And no elevator.”

“Oh. I’m tough. I can take it.”

He tugs my fingertips toward his building. “You sure you’ll be all right with all my brothers?” he asks. He looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him.

“Stop worrying,” I say. “I’m not made of glass, Pete.”

This place is nothing like where I’m from, and I jump when someone walks by us. He pulls me into his side. “I got you,” he says quietly. But he’s sure, and I feel completely safe with him. There’s graffiti on the wall of his apartment building, and I stop to look at it. “Come on,” he says. “I want you to meet my family.”

We go up four flights of stairs and step into a long hallway. Pete turns the knob and motions for me to precede him into the room. I do, with Maggie following, and immediately hear the TV. There are men stacked up like cord wood all over the place. Someone hits the “pause” button on the TV, and everyone turns to face us.

“Hi,” Pete says. He sets my bag down beside his, and we walk together into the room. The men get up, and the biggest one walks toward us. “I didn’t think you were coming back until later,” he says. He eyes me up and down but not in a creepy way. “Who’s your friend?” he asks. He sticks out a hand to shake, and I take it. “I’m Paul,” he says. He’s huge, and he has even more tattoos than Pete does.

There’s another guy behind him. He’s thin and has long, blond hair, and it’s held back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. “Matt,” he says as he sticks out his hand to shake.

Then I notice a guy and a girl sitting on the couch. She’s the blonde I saw at the prison, and she eyes me with the gaze of an antiques dealer, as if she’s looking for all my imperfections. “Emily,” she says with a little wave. “Logan,” she says, as she pats Logan on the chest. He extends his hand, and I take it.

But there’s one more, and my breath catches in my throat when he steps out from behind Logan. He looks so much like Pete. He has to be Sam. I look from Pete to Sam and back. “I’m the pretty one,” Sam says. He reaches out like he wants to hug me, but I recoil. I can’t help it. I’ve come a long way, but not that far. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a nod. I extend my hand, and instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips. His short little moustache tickles the back of my hand. I twist my fingers out of his grip, and Pete glares at him.