When Sloane went ten minutes without paying tribute to the Hefty bag, Teagan urged her to try to get some sleep. It was way after midnight, and at least one of them was going to need to be functional the next day. He didn’t think he could sleep. He worried he’d miss a message, a call—something.
The TV silently streamed more of the incomprehensible story. Several people got shot in the chest, but it seemed that they were all going to be okay. That was reassuring news, especially in relation to how he felt.
Sloane snored. After a particularly loud inhale woke her up, she flopped to her side, squinted at Teagan for a few moments to reassure herself that he was still there, and went back to sleep, just like she had as a baby. He felt a familiar pained tenderness at the sight. After they talked about rehab tomorrow, he’d call a charity to come collect all the bedroom furniture in the house, and then he was calling a Realtor. They were going to start everything fresh.
Teagan heard a noise from the backyard. He hit the power on the remote and listened again. Something from the pool house. He looked down the hall at the row of quiet bedrooms; he’d pointed Adrian to his own bedroom, but there wasn’t an outside door, so it couldn’t be the poor man trying to sneak out.
It was almost dawn, but probably not too late for the local teenagers to break into the only pool in the neighborhood. It was getting chilly this week, but Teagan had spent many summers chasing them and their White Claws out of his backyard.
He sighed and stood up, wondering if he ought to grab a lacrosse stick or something from the garage. He ultimately decided that getting his ass kicked if the teenagers objected to eviction would just be par for the course this evening.
It was pitch-black before Teagan flipped on the pool lights and the string lights around the cabana, and he blinked for a few seconds at the sudden illumination. Instead of teenagers, there was only Darcy, still clad in Sloane’s prom dress, barefoot and wielding the netted pole for cleaning leaves out of the swimming pool.
Teagan could remember falling off his bike as a kid, slapping a hand to cover his skinned knee. That moment he’d lift his hand and see it bloody was always the moment it would start to hurt. This felt like that. He didn’t know how much he had hurt until this moment.
“Oh,” Darcy said, dropping her forearm from where she’d shaded her eyes. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
Teagan swallowed hard at the useless lump of relief that caught in his throat. Her presence here now didn’t mean anything, especially since he could see that her eyes were swollen from crying. He’d known she’d eventually come back for her things.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said inanely.
She nodded.
“I’m cleaning out the pool,” she said. “Have you put any chlorine in it recently?”
“A week ago,” Teagan replied. He waited. Darcy usually explained herself if he gave her time and space.
Darcy looked into the pool as though answers would be found there.
“I had to find somewhere to take the otters,” she said, voice very small and tired. “I . . . um . . . I took them from the zoo.”
She hadn’t come back for him. But he got to see her again, at least.
Near the back fence, Teagan could make out the large duffel bag she’d carried.
He could feel things tomorrow. He needed to focus.
“So you have how many—” She had a non-zero number of otters. It didn’t matter how many. “What do they need?”
He saw her throat bob before she spoke.
“Just some bedding and a way to get out of the pool, for now,” she said roughly. “I’ll get the leaves.”
Teagan nodded and went back in the house. He retrieved a pile of old towels from the linen closet and a large sheet of spare plywood from the garage. He got one of Darcy’s sweatshirts from the front closet.
When he went back outside, Darcy was sitting with her legs dangling into the now-clean water, her skirt hiked up over her knees. The lights in the water cast shifting patterns over her skin as she watched the three otter pups, now released from the bag, peer warily at the first stair.
“Will this work?” Teagan asked, putting the plywood over the stairs to provide a ramp. The otters scattered.
Darcy nodded as he laid the towels down in a makeshift bed.
“I got them some cat food on the way. They’ll be fine for a day or so,” she said.
Teagan gingerly approached her and offered her the sweatshirt. It was cold at night in September, especially just before dawn.
Darcy looked up at him, eyes wide and hurt. She clutched the sweatshirt to her chest. Wordlessly, she patted the ground next to her.
It took Teagan a few seconds to process that she wanted him to sit down. His head felt stuffed full of cotton balls, and the fuel of adrenaline and grief that had kept him awake was bound to run empty at some point very soon. But he carefully pulled off his socks and rolled up the sweats he’d changed into so that he could put his feet in the chilly water too.
It took her another few moments to speak. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t have any choice but to come back here,” she said, voice tight. She sniffled and wiped her nose with an upward swipe of her palm. “But I couldn’t think of anything else to do with the otters.”
Teagan didn’t know what to say about that; you could get almost anything in New York at any hour, but otter habitat was probably pushing that aphorism to its breaking point.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead, because that would just about cover the entire field of what she might want to hear from him.
Darcy shook her head.
“Tonight really didn’t need otters on top of everything else, did it?” she said. “I didn’t think this through very well.” Her face was glum.
“I think—in light of everything else—the otters barely register,” Teagan sighed. “I probably owe you a few otters for your troubles.”
“We can’t keep them,” Darcy said. “I may have said I was a game warden. Well, not me exactly. I gave a fake name at the zoo.”
That sounded like a potential legal issue to be unraveled as quickly as possible, but Teagan could only wonder what she had meant by we.
“It’s okay,” Teagan said dizzily. “I’ll call Mrs. Park tomorrow—I mean, later this morning. Her husband might be able to take them.”
“Okay,” Darcy muttered.
One of the otters, braver than its siblings, approached the edge of the water, sniffing suspiciously. After a moment of hesitation, it jumped in, landing with a small splash and swimming determinedly toward the other side of the pool.
“I was always going to come back though,” Darcy said. “I just thought—if I could just handle one fucking thing on my own—but I guess not. I always think if I just get the next job, the right classes, a good start, then I’ll have my shit together. Well, I don’t. But I’m here anyway.”
She leaned back on her palms, shoulders tense and arms flexed. Teagan didn’t understand.
“You’re not going back to Montana,” he blurted, mostly as a guess.
“No, I’m staying here. I can’t promise anything else, but I’m staying here.”
“But you’re still—you’re going to take that job with Mrs. Park’s husband,” he hazarded, trying to understand her reasoning, what she thought was going to happen now. What was here?
“I mean, yeah. I will. I’ll try, at least. But Teagan, I’m here because I want you. I’m staying with you.”
There wasn’t enough air outside. He needed to take great big gulps of it, because he couldn’t breathe. His lungs didn’t work properly.
“You’re sure?” he asked, even though he didn’t want to ask if she was sure. He’d take her even if she wasn’t sure. If he warned her off, it was only for her sake, not his. “I’m so—Darcy, I’m a wreck. You’re right that things weren’t getting better. I was getting worse. I’m so sorry.”
Darcy exhaled. “Of course I’m sure. I love you. I’m not afraid of things getting worse.” She closed her eyes as though about to cry. “I keep thinking about what Sloane said. About how I was going to leave. And I guess I do always bail out when things get hard. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“Nobody would blame you. I wouldn’t,” Teagan said.
“I would. No place without you would ever feel like the right place to be. Even if it’s not easy. Even if I can’t hack it with the wildlife rehab or finish my degree or make it through a single boring party without an incident report—you’d never give up on me. I want to be that kind of person for you.”
The first otter had made it to the other end of the pool. It loudly chirped when it discovered that the edge was too steep to climb out. They both looked at it with concern until it managed to turn around and swim back the way it had come. Teagan grabbed for Darcy’s hand.
“It doesn’t have to be this hard for you,” Teagan tried to reassure her even as tears were beginning to overflow onto his cheeks. “I’ll start taking my medication again. I’ll—I’ll follow up with a real doctor. I already quit my job.”
Darcy shook her head, her own eyes scrunched closed. “No. No, I’m not making any deals with you. Not when you’re what we’re bargaining with. I don’t want you to do it for me at all. I don’t want you to ever think I’m with you because I think you’ll get better or you’ll be different or someday you won’t have this illness. Okay? I’m here even if it’s always like this.”
A wave of mingled relief and disappointment swept through him—relief because he didn’t know if he could have promised her anything else, and disappointment because her hope for him, founded on false premises as it had been, had been such a light in his life.
“You think it will always be like this?” Teagan gestured at himself, but the movement took in his teary cheeks, the stolen otters, the quiet house, the first gray streaks of dawn smudging the sky.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what changes you’re going to make in your life, and I don’t know if they’ll work. Maybe there are parts of it you’re always going to struggle with.” She pulled her legs out of the water and crossed them.
The other two otters had satisfied themselves as to the survivability of the water, and they jumped in to follow the first, all three beginning to swim in large, satisfied circles.
“But we’ve spent the past two months working on not drinking when you don’t drink.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m going to need an entirely new set of podcasts. It’s like I’ve been guiding you through a bamboo forest, but we’ve only been watching out for polar bears. I was worried about the wrong bears.”
Teagan swallowed through his tight, dry throat as he dimly imagined not feeling like this anymore.
“Was it—is it pandas? Are we worried about panda bears?”
“It’s a fucking metaphor, Teagan,” she said, glaring at him, and he lifted his palms in surrender even as he was gratified at the small upward tilt to her lips. “I know there must be other things you wanted in life besides me. Well, you’ve got me. What else?”
Teagan knew she was right, but the idea was so overwhelming at that moment that he couldn’t even begin a response. He shuffled enough to the side so that he could lie down and put his head in Darcy’s lap. He pulled his feet out of the pool and curled his legs up. When Darcy didn’t object, he wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed his face into her hip.
“I’ll think about it,” he vowed, mumbling into the thick, soft fabric of her dress. “Once I can think again. But you may need to make all the plans for a while, because you’re all I can think about right now.” He wiped his face against the loose fabric, because he imagined she wasn’t going to wear it again.
Darcy put a hand in his hair and stroked it gently.
“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’ll do that.” He heard her swallow. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke her voice was tremulous but determined. “Tomorrow all we’ll worry about is getting the otters squared away, all right? And if it’s a nice evening, we’ll make smoothies and sit in the hot tub. Then on Sunday we can check out that bear mountain you mentioned.”
That all sounded perfect to Teagan. She took another breath and told him what they’d do Monday.
Darcy’s hand in his hair and her voice making small, soft promises were the only push Teagan needed to topple over the edge into sleep. He didn’t care if it was cold out here. He didn’t want to lose an inch of this, not even for a moment. He didn’t care if the ground was wet, because his head was pillowed in Darcy’s lap. But as soon as the otters were out of the pool and had found the pile of old towels, Darcy shook him awake and pulled him to his feet, and they both went inside and slumped off to bed.
When the doorbell rang just after eleven, nobody immediately went to the door, because nobody had been expecting a package. Sloane was still on the couch, feeding Gatorade to her hangover, Darcy was eating peanut butter off a spoon in the pantry, and Teagan was blending canned tuna fish with frozen kale to make otter treats. Everyone was in their pajamas, except for the otters.
When nobody else volunteered to get the door, Teagan went to open it. He wasn’t sure who he’d expected to be there, but Rose Kelly was last on the potential list. Even though she was on his doorstep, she looked just as shocked to see him, or maybe it was that teacher in the grocery store moment of surprise, because Teagan was in plaid flannel and Rose wore floral joggers, a pink sweatshirt, and her curly hair up in a loose, messy bun. They stared off as each processed the other in a completely new context.
“Who is it?” Darcy called from the kitchen.
“Rose,” Teagan said.
“Tell her you quit!” Sloane called from the couch.
Teagan nodded. “I quit,” Teagan said, holding up his hands. “I’m not doing—whatever it is you want me to do.”
“I heard about that,” Rose said, almost as an aside. “And that’ll be a treat to handle on Monday. Nora’s been blowing up my phone all night.”
“Sorry,” Teagan said, even if he wasn’t quite. He successfully kept his mouth shut over any offers to further involve himself.
Rose shook her head as though to reorient herself. “It’ll be fine. Modeline was ready to take over two years ago. Congratulations on your retirement. No, I’m here for Adrian.”
Teagan blinked. He looked over his shoulder toward the hall. The man had briefly emerged to drink coffee and be awkward, and then he’d retreated to his room again.
“Uh. Pretty sure he quits too. And if you’re here to drag him back . . . Darcy will probably defend him.”
“That’s right,” Darcy said, emerging from the pantry with the sticky spoon still in her mouth. She crossed the room to wrap a protective arm around Teagan’s waist. “You ain’t taking no one out of this house alive, not on my watch, et cetera.” She smirked at Rose, as though hoping someone would try.
Teagan leaned over to kiss Darcy’s temple. God, he loved this woman.
Rose rolled her eyes with great drama.
“Adrian’s the one who called me. Something about your sister hunting him like a beast of the field?”
They all turned to look at Sloane, who pretended to be transfixed by the TV, where the beautiful people were now having a shopping montage against a background track of upbeat pop music. Her expression remained innocent, but she was blushing a little.
“Sloane, he just found out his fiancée was screwing around on him last night. Leave him alone,” Darcy chided her.
“You’re not my mom,” Sloane muttered grumpily.
Adrian, who’d probably been waiting for his chance to make an exit, came out of the bedroom in Teagan’s castoffs, his tux folded over his arm. He and Rose exchanged long-suffering grimaces.
“I’ll take you back to my place,” Rose sighed. She cast another judgmental stare at Sloane. “Listen to this: we used to be roommates, and he made me clean out the garbage disposal every single time he clogged it. Didn’t want to risk his dainty artist hands. You really want a man like that?”
Teagan hadn’t even realized the two of them knew each other.
Adrian fled the Van Zijl house without a backward glance. Sloane pretended not to notice. Darcy stepped aside to let him go, then headed back to the kitchen and Teagan’s forgotten tuna smoothie.
Rose didn’t leave but hesitated in the doorway. She tapped her mouth with a finger.
“You know,” she said, “I’m not telling you what to do, but your sister has the right to join the board now that she’s over twenty-one. You two would probably have the votes to kick Nora off, if she did that. Not everyone approves of self-dealing.”
“Why would you tell me that?” Teagan demanded. “I thought you and Nora were friends.”
“What? No. We’re not friends,” Rose said fiercely.
“But she got you your job,” Teagan said.
Rose rolled her eyes again. “It’s called networking. Not all of us get to work at the entire foundation we inherited. Adrian got me the job—I’ve known him since college. He was the best man in my wedding.”
“Oh,” Teagan said, feeling ignorant. “I didn’t even know you were married.”
“I’m not. Which is why Adrian owed me a job. Where I’d prefer a little less Nora in my life too.”
Teagan looked at his sister. “It’s up to Sloane.”
Sloane gave an aggressive thumbs-up as her lips twitched into a smirk. Teagan supposed Nora had that coming to her.
Rose nodded, slightly mollified by Sloane’s agreement. “I’ll call you Monday.” She turned to leave, then halted again. She scanned the living room. An otter skittered out from behind the kitchen island, one of its siblings in hot pursuit.
Rose lifted her eyebrows but did not comment on the chase.
“You’re okay, then? You’re going to be okay?” she finally asked, eyes flicking to Teagan’s face.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Teagan said, discovering after he said the words that, for once, he actually meant it. “I’m great. We’re just hanging out and doing a couple of errands today. Probably going to grill some veggies out by the pool later.”
“That’s good,” Rose said, looking like she actually meant it too. She turned her head to nod farewell to Darcy, then Sloane. “Just having a family weekend in, then? Must be nice.” Her face was slightly envious.
Sloane turned the volume back up on the television. It was time for another survivable gun battle on her program, it seemed. Darcy hit the blender button to pulse the tuna one more time. Somewhere, an otter had caught scent of the fish and was starting to chirp for food.
“Yeah,” Teagan said. “It is.”