“Yeah. So, it’s a bit crowded and chaotic and loud.”

“And being type A…”

“Right,” he agrees, relieved I’m catching on. “So, after graduation, Brian and I started getting the apartment over the garage ready for habitation. I moved in a few months ago. It’s tricky. I’m there a lot, but I don’t live under their roof. Technically. But it’s an adjustment for my mom. She wants to know where I am and what I’m up to, while I say I’m a grown-ass adult and don’t need a curfew. And if I were away at school, she wouldn’t know.”

“That’s fair.”

He rolls his dark eyes lightly. “You’d think.”

“I found out a few days ago my dad isn’t my dad,” I blurt.

Micah falters. Cash pulls on the leash. Eyes wide, Micah looks at me. “What?”

“Yeah.” I smile wryly. “That’s exactly what I said, actually.”

“So that’s why you’re here? Or is that why you’re here?”

I shrug and motion for us to keep walking. “Kinda. I graduated early.” I point to myself. “Homeschool kid. I was planning this whole gap year thing where I’d travel with my best friend out west where she’s going to college. I was going to start working at this Bible camp slash dude ranch.”

His brows creep farther north to his hairline. I plow on.

“Which my mom, in particular, was super into because it would keep me all”—I motion around myself wildly—“surrounded by the Holy Spirit and away from worldliness and sin, which is massively ironic because, turns out, she got knocked up at eighteen. Presumably, not by the Holy Spirit.”

Micah’s lips turn up at the corners. Sort of sardonic. Like a grizzled, dark-haired, slightly moody Nick Miller–from–New Girl type. I swallow hard at the thought and continue, “Anyway, apparently my real dad is dead. Died before I was born. But she—my mom, I mean—married her friend—so my stepdad? I guess?—and they never really loved each other. And he’s decided he wants to cut ties and live his truth or whatever, and since I’m grown, now’s the time to reveal the sham for what it is.”

“Wow, that’s—”

“Cold,” I say. “Ice cold. My, um, dad—the living one,” I clarify, “hasn’t been real affectionate, for the last, oh, maybe five years? Or even, like, present, but he was my dad. Last week, I had one dad, then two, and now zero.”

Micah shakes his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I don’t know why I just told you all of that. You didn’t even want to take me for ice cream. You probably think I’m super weird. Full disclosure, I might be.”

His mouth lifts in a real smile. “You ramble when you get worked up.”