Credence

She nods and spins around, hurrying back to the house.

Noah looks after her. “I remember when I was new to chores,” he says wistfully. “It was kind of fun. For a few minutes.

”

I shake my head. I don’t think Tiernan finds this fun.

“If we train her up, it’ll be like I’m not even gone,” he tells me.

I shoot him a look, but I don’t stop as I shove another pile of debris out of the back of the truck. “Don’t piss me off today,” I warn him.

He’s not leaving, and Tiernan isn’t here to take his workload.

I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, wanting this conversation, but I won’t do it. We’ve had this talk, and I’m done. He’s not going away. He’s twenty-fucking-years old. He doesn’t know what he wants. Or what he needs.

Making a mistake takes seconds. Living with them takes a lifetime, and I don’t want my sons to suffer like that.

Before he can try to fight me again, I hop down from the truck and head for the house to get my own soapy water.

Tiernan

“Is it okay if take a truck to town and do some food shopping?” I sit at the breakfast table, toying with the burnt bacon in my hand and feeling it crumble onto the plate like a potato chip. “I can pick up anything you might need, too, while I’m out.”

Jake looks up at me, chewing his food, and I zone in right between his eyes—focusing—to get my mind off the fact that his stupid shirt is off again. I mean, seriously. Do these men ever get completely dressed? Women survive with the heat and sweat all the time without discarding our clothing.

“What do you need to eat other than bacon?” he questions.

But I keep my expression even, not indulging his joke.

He finally laughs. “Of course, you can take the truck.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he opens his wallet and pulls out some cash, tossing it into the middle of the table while Noah downs the rest of his milk.

“I have money,” I insist. I can contribute to my own expenses.

But he just argues back. “So do I,” he says. “We don’t need de Haas money in this house.”

de Haas money.

He slips his wallet back into his pocket, and I glance down at the hundred bucks he dropped on the table—far more than I actually need.

But I think he knows that. He just wants me to see that he can accommodate my lofty standards as much as his brother could.

Unfortunately, I can’t stop myself. “You won’t take de Haas money, but you’ll take a de Haas.”

And I raise my eyes again, locking gazes with him. If he resents my parents’ money in this house, then surely he resents me in this house, too.

“You’re ours,” he states plainly. “We pay for what you need.”

I stare at him another moment, and then Noah reaches into the middle of the table, snatching up the cash.

“I’ll go with her. I need some shit.”

We both get up, clearing our plates and loading the dishwasher.

“Toss the plastic bags into the barrel when you unpack groceries,” Jake tells us, still eating at the table. “I’m burning trash this afternoon.”

I stop and glare at the back of his head. “Burning trash?” I repeat, searching for an argument he’ll listen to. “Please…don’t. It’s bad for you, breathing it in, and it’s really bad for the planet.” I circle the table to face him. “It’s illegal for a reason.”