Gracie, Stevie, and I pulled into my driveway around four o' clock in the afternoon.

Built in the late 1970's, my parents' old house wasn't much to look at from the outside. Or the inside. At least, not by Arizona standards. It was only 1,200 square feet. Three bedrooms. One bathroom. Years ago, my dad and mom had bought the cheapest house they could afford in a lower-middle class neighborhood in Mesa. According to my mom, this was before my dad started turning all crazy and violent. This was when he still seemed to be a nice, normal guy.

My mom left me the house when she moved back to Chicago. We had some family over in the midwest. She was happier now. Over the years, they did a good job looking after her while I was overseas.

I had mixed feelings about the house, though.

On one hand, it had been a convenient place to stay whenever I came back from my deployments. The mortgage was almost paid off, too.

On the other hand, my dad was long dead, but my memories of him seemed permanently rooted to this house. They followed me around the hallways and bedrooms like ghosts that couldn't be exorcised.

"Wow," Gracie exclaimed as she stepped out of my car, "this place hasn't changed since the last time I was here..."

Jesus. That was saying something. It took me a moment to realize that she hadn't been here since high school.

Back then, as kids, while all of our classmates were playing Pokemon on the latest Gameboy or Mario Kart on N64, Gracie would come over to play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with me on the old-ass Nintendo system that my mom found on Craigslist.

Back then, as teens, I used to sneak Gracie up to my room whenever my parents were out, so we could fool around and make out.

Back then, I had been planning to propose to Gracie after high school graduation.

Gracie and I had been through so much since then, so much had changed between us.

This house, however, remained unchanged, frozen in the past.

I grimaced, "Yeah, this house could definitely use a few repairs and upgrades. I haven't been around enough to get to all of them, but I plan to fix it up now that I'm done with the Corp."

She cast a hard-to-read look in my direction. "So... you're planning to live here long-term, then?"

I shrugged. "Not sure yet. I might sell it later after renos are done. We'll see."

"Ah, gotcha."

Gracie grabbed Stevie from the car seat while I carried all of their bags inside. Gracie didn't even try to pack light. Even though they were only staying for a week, Stevie had her own diaper bag for outings and her own large duffel bag full of extra toys and clothes and formula. Gracie also brought a carry-on for her shit and a backpack for her laptop and work stuff. I guess this was the new norm now that we had Stevie. My girls and I had to be prepared for anything and everything.

Once we were in the house, Gracie and I took turns tag-teaming with Stevie so the other person would go unpack or set up her baby gear or make some dinner. We got through the rest of the evening without much incident. It was all thanks to Gracie. She had truly planned for anything and everything that Stevie might need during their first time away from home.

At night, after we put Stevie to bed, Gracie and I plopped down on the couch for a moment of respite.

I glanced over to her and gave her a tired smile.

She glanced over and smiled back at me.

Gracie remarked, "What a day, huh?"

I echoed her sentiment, "What a day."

She teased, "Be honest with me, how do you really feel about Stevie invading your bachelor pad?"

"I feel... happy... about it."

Gracie looked skeptical when she prompted, "Honestly?"

I chuckled. "Honestly. I thought... today... went pretty well, don't you think?"

She nodded. "Definitely! I was worried that Stevie might fuss in a new environment, but she has been such a trooper—"

Gracie hesitated, then, before side-eyeing me, "Just like her daddy."

My cheeks grew warm. Her praise sounded sincere, but I didn't feel like I deserved it.

I cleared my throat and protested, "Stevie isn't anything like her daddy. She's perfect."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Gray," Gracie said quietly, again, with an unreadable look in her pretty brown eyes, "you've been through hell and come such a long way..."

"Nah, everyone's been through shit. I'm nothing special."

"The fact that you never make a big deal about the shit you went through," Gracie murmured in a sad-sounding voice, "says a lot about your character."

I cast her a funny look.

Why was Gracie being so nice to me, all of a sudden?

Was it because of what had happened between us last night?

Because, now, she knew that there was something wrong with me?

I felt grateful for her concern, but it also made me uncomfortable. I felt... exposed. Gracie's kindness kept catching me off guard even though I knew that she possessed a heart of gold. Gracie was simply being Gracie, but I didn't want her to be so good to me. Again, I didn't feel like I deserved it.

Something fucked up inside me reared its ugly head.

Suddenly, I wanted her to get mad at me. To walk away from me. To treat me like a piece of shit.

That—was what I deserved from her.

In harsher tones, I reminded her, "Don't be so quick to praise my character. Stevie wouldn't even be here if I was a better guy, if I actually had my head on straight."

Hurt flashed across Gracie's face, and I immediately regretted the words I spat at her.

I rushed to apologize, "I'm so sorry, Gracie, I shouldn't have said that!"

"No, no, it's fine," she insisted.

Uncertainty and anxiety creased my brow. "Really?"

"Really."

To my surprise, Gracie didn't sound mad. She didn't get up from the couch or walk away from me, either.

Gracie stayed next to me and sighed in a soft, shaky breath, "But..."

I urged gently, "What is it?"

"Can you tell me what happened... that night... between you and Lydia? Why did you go to her? What were you... thinking? I'm not trying to start a fight or anything. I just want to know. I think I'm ready to hear the truth."