Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 35

~Raelyn~

The living room was a minefield of half-packed boxes, bubble wrap, and a mountain of labeled Ziplocks because I—being the control freak I am—refuse to let chaos win. Colby, however, had other plans. He'd stayed after everyone left, claiming he wanted to "help finish packing," which really meant wandering around shirtless and eating the snacks I was trying to pack.

He'd also decided to crash on the couch for the night—"so we can get an early start," he said while hogging the last of the kettle corn and knocking over a box labeled "KITCHEN: DO NOT TOUCH."

The front door creaked open.

Cue the whirlwind.

"MOM!" Blake's voice cracked through the air like a firecracker. My six-year-old sprinted into the apartment like he'd just come back from war, backpack flapping open, a juice pouch in one hand, a sock half-on, half-off.

I caught him mid-tornado. "Whoa, whoa—slow down, Flash. Did you even sleep at Riley's or just bounce off the walls all night?"

"I had five Pop-Tarts and we made a ninja movie." He was vibrating.

Colby raised an eyebrow. "Your kid just casually dropped the words 'five Pop-Tarts' and 'ninja movie' in the same sentence. I feel like we should be concerned."

"I am concerned," I muttered, brushing crumbs out of Blake's hair. "Hey, buddy, can you sit for a second? I need to tell you something."

He blinked at me like I'd asked him to file taxes. "Now?"

"Yes, now. Important news." I knelt to his level, resting my hands on his shoulders.

He looked suspicious. "Is it about the Pop-Tarts?"

"No. And I still can't believe Riley's mom let you eat five." I exhaled, softening my tone. "Remember when we talked about new adventures? Like the ones in your bedtime books?"

His eyes narrowed like a detective. "You mean like the one where the dragon eats the king 'cause he stole his gold?"

"No, no dragons. Hopefully." I smirked. "But we're going on one of our own. We're moving. To a special house."

Blake tilted his head. "Wait. Like... the Trap House? THE Trap House? With all my uncles who yell during Mario Kart and the girls who scream at scary movies even though they put them on themselves?"

Colby snorted behind me.

I bit back a laugh. "Yes. That Trap House."

Blake's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "Can I live with them forever? Like, real life? Not just sleepovers?"

"You sure can. We're all moving in together."

"YES! I call dibs on the beanbag chair!" He punched the air.

"But wait, there's more," I added, nudging his shoulder.

His little head tilted again. "More than the beanbag chair?"

"You're gonna be a big brother."

The kid froze. Like full-on buffering screen. "Wait. You mean like... a baby?"

"A real baby. Tiny, wrinkly, possibly weird-looking at first. But very cute later."

He gasped, dramatically. "I knew something was up! Riley said moms get glowy before they drop a baby. You've been glowy, Mom!"

Colby, from the kitchen, whispered under his breath: "You've also been rather moody. So."

I shot him a glare. "Not helping."