Chapter 17

It was Monday morning, and wouldn’t you know it, the reporters were back—though thankfully not in the numbers we’d seen before the press conference. Just a small crowd this time. Persistent, quiet, vulture-like. Beto had slipped out early to head to work, but the rest of us—me, Luz, Marisol, and Ellie—were basically hostages in the house again.

We weren’t worried, exactly. Just annoyed. I figured I might as well put the forced downtime to good use.

I set up shop at the dining room table, Marisol’s laptop open, a half-empty cup of coffee beside me. First, I called the utility companies in Utah. Electricity? Paid. Water? Paid. Both scheduled to be on and running by Wednesday. That little bit of order felt good. One less thing to trip over.

Next came the landlord. That one was trickier.

He didn’t answer at first, so I left a message. A few minutes later, he called back.

“Mr. Hadley,” I began. “I owe you an explanation.”

I told him everything—well, not everything, but the essentials. That I’d gone missing in Mexico. That I’d been held. That I was back now and trying to clean up what I could. He went quiet for a bit, then cleared his throat and said he’d seen my name on a news story but hadn’t been sure it was me.

“I fell behind on the rent because of what happened,” I said. “I get that you had to file for eviction. But I want to make it right. I’ll pay what I owe when I’m in town later this week. If you want proof, just watch the Dana Calloway interview on TV tonight.”

He was surprisingly decent about it. Said he’d stop the eviction process but that I’d still have to pay the remaining lease balance if I wanted out early.

“How much are we talking?”

“Three months.”

I winced. “Fine. I’ll cover it.”

We ended the call politely, and I sat there staring at the screen, already calculating what that would do to my savings. Not a death blow, but definitely a gut punch.

Then I checked my email. And I saw it.

A message from one of the companies I’d contacted about freelance work. I’d thrown out a few feelers—nothing serious, just trying to get a sense of what might be out there for someone like me, untethered from a traditional office. This one was a good fit. Software design work. Flexible hours. Remote. And, based on the rate they offered, very decent money.

I blinked at the screen.

Then I yelled. “Yes!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and suddenly Luz, Marisol, and Ellie came rushing in like the house was on fire.

“What happened?” Marisol asked.

“Are you okay?” Luz added, already heading toward me.

I spun the laptop to face them and pointed at the email. “I got the job. Freelance gig. Starts next Monday. It’s fully remote.”

Luz lit up like the sun. “Mi amor! That’s amazing!” She threw her arms around my shoulders.

“I told you someone would snap you up,” Marisol said with a grin.

Ellie gave me a high five and said, “Now you’re adulting for real.”

It felt good. Better than good. I hadn’t realized how much I needed a win like this—something that belonged to me, that I’d earned, that pointed toward the future instead of back at the wreckage of the past.

I pulled out my phone and called Isa. She picked up right away.

“Still miss me?” she teased.

“Always,” I said. “But I’ve got news.”

We filled her in, all talking at once. Isa shrieked with joy and told me we all had to go out and celebrate. “And I’m not talking about going out dancing this Saturday,” she told me. “A real celebration.” I promised we would.

As I hung up, I leaned back in the chair and looked around the room. Luz was still beaming. Marisol was already pulling out her planner. Ellie was texting someone, probably Carmen. The interview would air tonight, and the media would probably spike again tomorrow, but in that moment, the future suddenly looked much clearer.

Bills paid. Lease ending. Job lined up.

All that was left now was the move. And after that? Life. Our life.

That night, we all gathered in front of the TV—me, Luz, Marisol, Ellie, Beto, Carmen, plus Isa and her parents on a video call propped up against the stack of board games on the coffee table. The living room felt packed, warm and buzzing with a weird mix of anticipation and nerves. Someone passed around popcorn. Luz sat pressed against my side, her hand resting lightly on my knee.

And then, just like that, it started. Dana’s polished voice, the dramatic intro, the slow cuts of us sitting in her quiet studio, our voices piped in through carefully edited soundbites.

It was surreal. I kept thinking, That’s me? That’s how I look when I talk? That’s how I sound?

When it was over, there was this moment of silence—like nobody quite knew what to say yet. Then Isa’s voice came through the speakerphone.

“Well,” she said. “That was bizarre.”

We all laughed, and the tension broke.

“But we didn’t sound dumb,” Marisol added. “That’s a win.”

“No, I think we came off exactly how we hoped—honest, and ... normal,” Luz said, her tone gentle but certain. “Like people who went through something awful and lived.”

I nodded. “You all were incredible. Seriously.”

Luz smiled at me, but I could see the question in her eyes even before she said a word.

“I’ve got a phone call to make,” I told her, standing up.

She gave a little nod and said, “Your mom?”

“Yeah.”

She reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Good luck.”

I stepped outside for some air and a little privacy, phone in hand. My mom answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Brendan.”

“Hey, Mom. You watched it?”

“I did.” A pause. “You look thin.”

I half-laughed, half-sighed. “Six weeks in captivity’ll do that to you.”

There was a pause, then her voice softened. “The three young women. They’re delightful.”

I smiled faintly. “Yeah. They are. And actually ... that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She didn’t say anything, just waited.

“I’m moving to Texas.”

Still nothing.

“I already have a remote job offer lined up, and I’ll be in Utah later this week to pack up and close things out. I’ll stop by to see you, of course.”

“ ... You’re moving?” she repeated, quietly.

“Yeah. There’s ... more.” I took a breath. “The biggest reason I’m moving is that I’m in love with one of those three women.”

A full pause.

Then: “Which one?”

“Luz. The one who was sitting next to me most of the interview.”

Another pause—this one long enough that I checked to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

“She seems very sweet,” she said eventually. “It’s just ... this is a lot, Brendan. I mean, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the interview.”

“I know. I didn’t want to spring it all on you, but I also didn’t want to wait.”

She exhaled slowly, and I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind—trying to make space for this new version of me, one she hadn’t been part of shaping.

“The three of them are coming with me to help with the move,” I added. “You’ll probably meet them while I’m in town.”

“All right,” she said. Her tone was neutral—not warm, not cold. Just a little lost.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” I said.

“Bye, Brendan.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone for a second, then pocketed it and headed back inside. Luz was waiting for me in the hallway, her arms crossed, face hopeful but tense.

“Well?”

“She watched it. Said I look thin.”

Luz rolled her eyes. “Classic mom move.”

I laughed, but it faded quickly. “She liked you guys. Called you ‘delightful.’”

“That’s good, right?”

“It is. But then I told her I’m moving, and that I’m in love with you.” I paused. “She got quiet. Said it was a lot. We didn’t exactly end on a high note. I mean, not a low note either, just ... a note.”