The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

For the time being, Alara went home with her mom as well.

Which meant that Ezzy came home with me.

And she’d been refreshingly blunt about not being willing to live in a “cold, bare space” ever again.

When I’d told her that she could decorate to her heart’s content, she dove into it whole-heartedly.

“She’s nesting,” her mother had insisted one night when she’d come over for dinner to listen to Ezzy go back and forth over paint colors for almost an hour. “She’s never been able to do that before,” she added, smiling at Ezzy in the kitchen as she made coffee. “Thank you for being good to my girl. She needs that.”

So, yeah, it was like walking into a completely new apartment.

One that felt, well, homey.

I guess I really never had that before.

Much like Eren, my father had never given my mother money or freedom to do anything around our house. So it always felt kind of empty and cold.

This home that Ezmeray created, though? It was all warmth.

She’d gone neutral on the walls and used a lot of warm woods, rugs, blinds, plants and art to create the feel of the space.

And that feel?

It was home.

It was even more homey to walk in and smell her scent all around the space.

Though, pretty soon, that scent was going to have to mingle with the smell I was bringing in with me.

New puppy.

Well, puppies.

It was a long story that boiled down to the fact that I was a sucker with a bleeding heart when it came to animals.

I was just chasing one that had escaped from the less than sturdy enclosure I’d picked up when I heard the keys in the door.

And then there she was, walking in completely oblivious with an arm full of fresh tulips and what looked like a bakery bag on her arm.

“What’s that… oh, my God!” she squealed, dropping the flowers and baked goods—not setting them carefully down, actually dropping them right there—and going to her knees as the puppy made a beeline for her. “You got me a puppy?” she asked, eyes huge as she grabbed the fur ball and snuggled it to her chest.

“Well…” I said, turning away, and coming back with the two others. “I got three. I need to work on my impulse control,” I admitted, wincing.

“Absolutely not. I forbid it, actually,” she said, getting to her feet, and making her way over toward me. “At least when it comes to cute, fluffy puppies,” she added, reaching out to pet their heads. “What are they?”

“Who the fuck knows? Shit-poo-pom-doodle-mutts,” I said, getting a laugh out of her. “They’re rescues,” I said, shrugging. “Dad was a deadbeat, ran off, so no one knows what he is.”

“What about the mom?” she asked, eyes going round.

“Yeah, about that…” I said, nodding.

“Are we even allowed to have that many dogs here?” she asked, looking around.

“Probably not. But mama isn’t here. She’s over with your mama.”

“But they can’t have dogs,” she insisted.

“They can have whatever the fuck I say they can have,” I said, shrugging. It was no secret I didn’t like that slumlord, so I enjoyed any chance I could get to fuck with him. Half the building were going to have dogs by the end of the month once they saw Ez’s mom with one.

“Did you hear that, babies?” she asked, petting heads. “We can go visit mama anytime you want.”

“What?” I asked when she watched me with a look I couldn’t quite place.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I just really, really love you.”

“Babe, that’s not nothing,” I told her, shaking my head. “That’s everything,” I added, leaning forward to press my lips to hers.

A kiss that was promptly interrupted by three tongues that just didn’t belong there.

Ezmeray - 1 year

“Listen, it’s okay,” Alara insisted to the watery-eyed lady at the counter of her shop. “I know how you’re feeling right now,” she added, pressing her hand over the lady’s hand, the same hand that was holding the engagement ring she was forced to hock.

“But there is no reason to cry, okay? I am going to go ahead and stick this right here,” she said, half-hiding it under another, bigger, fancier ring. “When you are ready, you come back for it. I will try to steer everyone clear of it for a couple months, okay?” she asked. “Give you some time to get back on your feet.”

That was why Alara had been so insistent on opening the shop.

Not because she had any real passion for junk.

But because she knew what it was like to be on the other side of the counter, having to sell something you loved because there was no other choice.

So she gave people who were genuinely struggling, essentially, a loan.

And the crazy part?

They almost always paid her for it. Sometimes even with interest and gratitude. Or if they couldn’t do interest, she was given cookies or meals, or hand-made scarves.