"It is in your arms I feel the safest. I built my home in your heart, the roots of my soul wrapped around your lungs. It is with you I know where I belong."

A F T E R F A L C O N ' S particularly chilly shower, he walked into his old room only to find Freya passed out in the bed. With a smile, he made his way towards the dresser where he had placed a pair of clean clothes for himself.

He had had to borrow them from Glenn, who had thankfully still been awake when he had asked for them. Falcon had grown much larger than the fourteen-year-old kid that used to stay over.

As he pulled his shirt down, over his chest, Falcon began rifling through the drawers of his old dresser. There was a reason he had come to this house. In fear of his father finding it, Falcon had snuck into Glenn's house as he had done countless times before and had hidden it there. He knew Glenn wouldn't have gone through his things; the old man valued privacy above all other things, even if Falcon hadn't contacted him even once in the last five years.

He stuck his hand in the top left drawer, searching under the mound of socks for the feel of paper. After a few moments, Falcon's fingertips hit the smooth surface of the letter and he pulled out the folded paper, holding it in his hand for a moment before glancing in the mirror where the reflection of his sleeping Freya resided.

He would miss her. God knows he would. But he had to do this for her. He had to make himself a better person - someone she wouldn't have to fight the people around her for. Someone her father would let her marry.

Falcon knew what Freya's father wanted for her. He wanted someone with money; someone with power and influence. Falcon had none of that now, but he would.

He unfolded the letter carefully, the sound echoing throughout the silent room. Heaving a soft breath, Falcon's eyes scanned over the words he had memorised months ago.

June 2, 2018

Falcon Anders

17 Fremont Rd.

Angel Grove, CA 1993

Dear Mr Anders,

I was sorry to inform you of the passing of your uncle, Marius Bucșă.

As per our conversation over the telephone, Mr Bucșă devised and bequeathed the entirety of his business and estate to you. Among the paperwork I have sent you, you will find a copy of Mr Bucșă's last will and testament, as requested.

Should you be willing and able to receive Mr Bucșă's business and estate, please contact me to inform me as such.

Should you be unwilling or unable to receive Mr Bucșă's business and estate, please contact me shortly to determine where it could be received.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,

Jonathan Davenport

Director, Solicitor

Wills & Estates Office

Falcon's hands shook slightly as he pulled out the second page from behind the letter. His mind went blank as he stared at the page, not knowing the appropriate emotion to feel.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF

Marius Bucșă

I, Marius Bucșă, an adult residing at 7 Eden St, Bucharest, Romania, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and testament. I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me.

Falcon's eyes scanned down the length of the page, the words blurring in front of his eyes before they came to a stop at the familiar curves of his name.

I devise, bequeath, and give my business, estate and all other assets under my name to my nephew, Falcon Anders.

It was there. In the man's own handwriting. What he once would have seen as another one of the world's cruel tricks now appeared as a glimmering light of hope.

A strange feeling of heaviness settled on his chest as he stared at the words. More than anything, he wished he could have met the man. He had been the last person on this earth to have truly seen him as family. The last remnant of his mother.

Falcon moved himself to the armchair in the corner of the room. He relaxed into the plush pillows before grabbing his phone that had been resting on the small side table next to the chair. He was thankful for his short contact list at that moment; quickly selecting the number he hadn't had the heart to touch since the solicitor had called him.

He brought the phone to his ear, the shrill ring invaded his hearing but he didn't flinch, his eyes firmly planted on the paper in his hand. As the phone rang, it occurred to him that he hadn't even bothered the check the time difference between their countries. Not that he wondered about it for too long.

The harsh rings stopped seconds before a low voice filled the speaker.

"Jonathan Davenport speaking," The formal voice said.

"Jonathan," Falcon greeted. "It's Falcon. Is it a good time to talk about Marius' will?"

Falcon woke the next morning with a light heart. His arms were wrapped securely around Freya's waist and for the first time in years, his mind was silent. For once, his mind wasn't screaming with worries or fear, and maybe it slightly naive of him to think the worst was over, but he believed it nonetheless.

Freya stirred in his arms, turning onto her back slightly before stretching out her arms and legs, almost hitting Falcon's face in the process. She didn't seem to notice as a smile came over her lips before she turned to face him and latched onto him like a sloth.

Falcon closed his eyes letting out an exasperated sigh, knowing full well he'd end up getting out of bed with her hanging onto him. She had no shame when it came to those kinds of things.

But he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Deciding not to prolong the inevitable, Falcon hauled himself - and Freya - out of bed. Knowing that there would be more than just Glenn joining them for breakfast that morning, Falcon found himself scanning her attire to assure it was suitable to be seen by other people.

Satisfied with the oversized shirt and boxers, Falcon walked them out of the room and down the hall to where he could hear the hum of chatter coming from the kitchen.

Upon attempting to let Freya down from his arms, he only found her squeezing tighter in an effort to hold herself up, imitating soft snores that were meant to make him believe she was asleep. Falcon grinned, letting out a small chuckle before hiking her further up his hip as they entered the kitchen.

It seemed his little baby was too tired to walk by herself this early in the morning.

Glenn was seated at a long table at the far end of the room, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he peered down at the book in his hand. His eyes glanced up at Falcon and Freya's entrance a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "There are the lovebirds. Goodmorning you two."

Glenn's statement drew a second pair of eyes towards the couple and the boy who stood at the stove broke out in a grin as he realised who it was.

"Falcon!" He greeted excitedly. "I didn't know you were back!"

He took a step forward before glancing at the girl in Falcon's arms. It seemed like a hug from the guy he had looked up to his whole life wasn't going to be possible this morning.

Falcon smiled at the sixteen-year-old.

"Hey, kid," They shared a nod before Falcon turned towards the table.

He lowered Freya into one of the chairs, softly prying her arms from around his neck before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He walked back to the boy before clasping his hand in his, drawing him in and giving him a pat on the back.

"How've you been, Jaxon?" He asked. "Stayed out of trouble?"

Still smiling, Jaxon turned back to the stove top, flipping over a few pieces of bacon before answering.

"Mostly," He shrugged. "Nothing outside of school."

Falcon rested his hand on Jaxon's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Good," He nodded to himself.

A room grew quiet for a moment, the air filling with the sound of sizzling food and the call of songbirds outside the window.

"Right," Glenn shut his book abruptly and standing from his place. "I think it's time for some food, don't you?"

The three teenagers nodded in agreeance and Falcon grabbed two plates, filling one for himself and one for Freya before seating himself at the table. He slid Freya's plate to her and she happily dug in, much to Falcon's amusement.

They were both starving, having eaten barely anything the past few days. Falcon felt slightly guilty for not having thought of it the night before - between opening his very own Pandora's box and calling Marius' solicitor, he had barely had the time to even think about food.

He promised himself he'd get her something more to eat on the way to her father's.

The four of them ate in happy silence, allowing themselves to enjoy each others company. Falcon was reminded of just how at home he had felt here, more so now than ever before.

He watched as Glenn opened his book again while simultaneously forking food into his mouth, as Jaxon worked through the pile on his plate, bits of food littering the area around his plate, and as Freya finished off the last few morsels left on her plate before sneakily stealing a piece of bacon from Falcon.

He had been wrong, he realised, to think Marius was the last person to see him as family. A person didn't have to be blood in order to be family. They just had to be there, had to love, had to comfort - just like a family would.

This was his family. The people who had gotten him through the roughest spots in his life.

Falcon's eyes fell to the only empty seat at the table as he cradled a cup of coffee in his hand. His family minus one.

He had forgiven Ryder long before he had even realised it. He just wished the idiot had stuck around long enough for Falcon to tell him.

A wry smile grew on his lips as he looked down, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He didn't worry about Ryder. He was in a better place.

But he would miss him.

Always.