I wondered if they would speak to Micah when he played in the yard. Or would they ignore him like they had since his birth? I wouldn’t tell him who they were. I hadn’t told him about my parents. He didn’t know this had once been my home. He didn’t know he had grandparents. In preschool he had been asked to tell the class about his grandparents, and when he’d told them about Aunt Cathy, he had called her Aunt Cathy. The kids in his class had teased him, telling him that his aunt wasn’t his grandparent. He’d come home confused and upset that he didn’t know who his grandparents were.

I had just told him he didn’t have any.

When he’d asked about his father, I had explained that God had wanted his father because he was such an awesome man, so he had brought him to heaven to live there with him before Micah was born.

That had been enough for Micah. He hadn’t asked any more questions. He was happy with the knowledge that his mother loved him unconditionally and that we were a family. It had been hard for him when he saw that other kids had large families, but once he’d understood that each family was different, he was okay with that.

“Momma! Momma!” Micah called out in excitement. “There’s a blue room. It’s a really cool blue room too! It’s even got toys in it already!”

Toys? I closed the front door behind me and headed down the hall. Stepping into the bedroom that had once been mine, I stopped and looked around me in awe. It was blue. A bright, happy blue. It had a full-size bed and a matching wooden dresser. There was a blue quilt on the bed with orange basketballs all over it, and in the center sat a basketball-shaped pillow. A toy box under the window was open, with pirate swords, a baseball bat and glove, a large red fire truck, and what looked like a big bag of Legos sticking out of it. An indoor basketball hoop sat in the opposite corner, with a ball lying on the floor beside it.

Above his bed was painted MICAH.

“Do you think the people who used to live here left it for me? Or do we gotta give it back?” he asked, a hopeful expression on his face. “And look, Momma, my name is already on the wall.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I had to swallow hard as I stood there taking in the room. I didn’t know what to think. This was not what I had expected, but then again, I hadn’t expected to be given this house, either. A white envelope caught my attention. It was leaning against the wall on top of the dresser, with my name and Micah’s name written on it.

Walking over to it, I wiped at the tear that had escaped, and I tried to hide my face from my very observant five-year-old. The envelope was sealed, so I slid my finger underneath and opened it up.

Sienna,

This is your home now. It doesn’t make up for the past or for the years I wasn’t there when you needed me. But it is all I have to give you. I don’t expect to buy your forgiveness. This room is as much for me as it is for Micah. I’ve always wanted to buy him things. Christmas presents and birthday presents and gifts just because he is my grandson. I couldn’t do that, though. Not while I lived with your father.

I won’t speak ill of your father—that is not what this is about. I loved him. He was a good man, but he was a proud man and I had to respect that. I believe in my heart that if he had it to do over, he would have done things differently. I hate that he never got to meet our grandson.

Please tell Micah that the room is his with love from someone who hopes she can meet him one day. When you are ready, of course. If you are ever ready. I just ask that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I want to be a part of your lives.

My address and phone number are listed below. If you want to send me a letter or give me a call, I would love that. Or maybe send me some photos of Micah. I have a photo album full thanks to your aunt Cathy. He’s a beautiful one, but then, so is his mother.

Love always,

Mom

“Momma, why’re you crying?” Micah asked as he tugged on the bottom of my shorts.

I folded the letter and tucked it in my back pocket before bending down and looking at him.

He reached out and wiped my face with his little hands. “It’s okay if we can’t stay here. Just so I’m with you,” he said. The sadness in his eyes hurt my heart.

This house was too good for him to believe. I grabbed his hands and squeezed them tightly. “This is our home. The person who gave it to us did all this just for you. These are happy tears, not sad ones,” I told him. I wasn’t ready to explain about his grandmother. I didn’t know how I felt about introducing him to her. There was too much pain for me to deal with right now. But her words and this room meant a lot. It didn’t make up for her abandonment, but knowing she loved Micah enough to do this did help me consider letting her into our life.

“So I get to keep this? All of it?” he asked, looking around at the room again, his eyes wide with wonder. We had even shared a bed up until now.

“Yes. All of this is yours. Just yours. You have your own space now. Your own bed. Even your own closet.”

Micah walked over to his bed and ran his little hand over the quilt. He knew what a basketball was. I had bought him one with my first paycheck. It was a part of his father I wanted him to have. “Did the person who did this for me know my daddy was the best basketball player in the world?” he asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded, biting back a smile.

“We’re gonna be happy here, Momma,” he said, then turned to go back to his toy box. I watched him for a few minutes I watched him as he dug through the things my mother had left him. Then I slipped out of the room to check out the rest of the house.

In the letter she’d sent with the house key and the deed, she’d told me she was leaving the furniture behind. The place where she was living now was furnished. I wasn’t sure how I felt about sleeping on my parents’ bed, but all I’d had was a mattress, and we’d left that behind in Texas.

Opening the door to the master bedroom, I froze before relief washed over me. It was my old bed, dresser, and vanity. Even my old desk. She had moved it all into here, knowing I wouldn’t want their things. The quilt on the bed was the same one that had been on my bed when I’d left six years ago. It was pale pink with big daisies all over it.

I was home.

Present day . . .

DEWAYNE

I pulled my truck into my parents’ driveway and parked beside my dad’s truck. Normally, I tried to come over and visit once a week. The past two weeks, however, I just hadn’t been in the mood. Momma had broken down and cried the last time I was here, reminding us all that it was the six-year anniversary of my little brother’s death.

The only way I knew how to deal with that was to get my ass drunk every damn night until I was numb again. Until I was past the pain, and the empty space in my chest didn’t ache so damn bad. After managing to stay sober for the past two nights, I decided I had better get back over here to see my momma before she came looking for me.

That woman had a temper on her, and I didn’t need her coming after me. I wasn’t scared of much, but Tabby Falco was someone I feared. Loved all five feet three inches of her, but I was terrified of her.

Glancing across the street, I noticed a beat-up white Honda Civic. It had seen better days. Nina Roy had moved out about a month ago, just a few weeks after her husband’s death. Momma said she’d gone to Florida. The place had sat empty for the past month. Was someone moving in? If so, that car didn’t make it look like it was the good kind of neighbors. I might have to stop by and make sure my parents were safe.

They didn’t need to be dealing with wild parties or a meth house from some trashy new neighbors. I took a step closer and checked out the license plate. Texas. Now I was as curious as I was concerned. Who the hell did Nina Roy sell her house to? I never even saw a For Sale sign in the yard. If she’d rented it, we might really have a problem. Just last week three rented houses just an hour north of here were busted for meth.

“What you gawking at our new neighbor’s car for? Get in here and see your momma!” I turned to see my dad standing at the door with it wide open, an annoyed look on his face. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have felt the need to protect the man. I wouldn’t have thought anything could touch him. But then he’d had the stroke. Things had changed. I had officially taken over my dad’s construction company, Falco Construction. Dad just couldn’t handle it anymore. He had always seemed larger than life, but nothing had been the same since Dustin’s death.

“You met them?” I asked him, nodding toward the house across the street.

He shook his head. “Car showed up. Haven’t seen who was in it. No moving van or U-Haul. Just the car. Sometime around noon yesterday. Car was gone at two today when I glanced outside, but then it was back when I went to water the flowers at four.”

This was just getting worse. Someone had moved in without stuff. This wasn’t the best subdivision in Sea Breeze, but so far it had been safe from things like meth houses. I wasn’t about to let that shit find its way into my parents’ neighborhood.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him, and started across the street before he could stop me. Not that he could stop me.

“Get back over here, boy,” he called, but I held a hand up.

“Just a sec. I need to check this out,” I replied, and kept my eyes focused on the door and the windows. I didn’t want to spook whoever was inside and end up getting shot if they were in there setting up shop.