Maybe because I know where she’d come from. That shitty fucking apartment, that place where she’d run from, leaving us behind. And while I don’t think she’d come directly here, this was her end result. This is where she’d planted her roots. Izzie said they’d been here for a few years.

So yes. It’s more.

The house isn’t too shabby. There are flowers along the sides. The lawn is wild and unkempt. There is a car in the cracked driveway, rusted and up on a jack. There’s a tire missing. There’s a tree next to the house, and it’s swaying gently.

“We don’t have to do this now,” Otter says.

I smile tightly. “Might as well. We’re not expected at the funeral home until tomorrow. I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.”

He looks at the house. “I don’t like this place. I don’t like what it’s doing to you.”

“It’s not doing anything to—”

He turns to look at me sharply. “Don’t. Don’t pretend. Not with me. That’s not fair.”

He’s right. It’s not right. “I’m angry,” I admit. “More than I expected.”

“Why?”

“Because the house is nicer than I thought it would be.” I groan, leaning back against the headrest. “And that sounds stupid. But there it is.”

“You thought it’d be—what. Like the apartment?”

“Yeah. But it’s got flowers. Stupid, right?”

He shrugs. “No. It’s valid. You’re allowed to be angry at that.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks. I feel so much better now.”

“Stop being a jerk.”

I wince. “Sorry. It’s not—it’s weird. Being here.”

“I told you we don’t have to do this,” he reminds me. “We can hire someone else to come in and clean it out. She was renting, so it’s not like we need to worry about selling the house. We don’t need to go in.”

“I told Izzie we’d get her stuff.”

“Other people can do that, Bear.”

“We’re here, right? It’s—”

“I don’t want this to hurt you,” he says, and I can see he’s frustrated. “It’s like she’s getting to you still. Again. I don’t want that. She’s gone. She shouldn’t still be able to make you feel this way.”

“God,” I tell him. “It’s fucking stupid how much I love you.”

He chuckles, but he’s blushing a little. “Ditto.”

“Ditto,” I scoff at him. “That’s nice.”

His hand is on my knee, and he’s squeezing, and I really shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts I am.

“Go get the trailer,” I tell him, voice slightly strangled. “I’ll go in and see what’s there.”

“Uh-huh. Because that’s what you’ve got on your mind.”

“Stop it. We’ll have old-people sex later.”

“I wish you would stop calling it that,” he mutters. “We’re not old.”

“Says the forty-one-year-old.”

“Gonna spank your ass for that one later,” he promises darkly. “You’ll be singing a different tune then, I’m sure.”

I have to get out of the car before I do something dumb like demand he pull out his cock so I can blow him.