Marcy was an expert at multitasking and one of the few people here capable of fixing a sandwich and coffee while keeping the conversation going strong. And she had a lot to say to me that day. She's probably the only person, besides her little brother Matt, that knows about me and Toby. I say probably because there's no telling if he's told anyone about us too. Not to say that he can't, he probably did but with the type of friends he had, I'd doubt that he'd want to tell them about me and out himself, especially not to people like Damon Chartwell.

I shuddered at the thought of him, I hated that guy. He was the one who started driving Toby to the pool during the summer, eager to place bets on his prizefighter. Ushering him into his rickety old van with the nasty mattress in the back. To make matters worse he was a mutt that got bit, on purpose I bet, and didn't even the guts to challenge anyone himself.

"So let me see if I heard you right, He's going to fight this LeBlanc kid, who's supposed to be like super tough and has all this dirty money from us pops or whatever, could get his ass handed to him, and you didn't even bother to go here as emotional support?" Marcy asked, her accent staining her words as her frustration with me started to show.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do? He never listens to me Marcy, he already broke his fingers last week," I huffed, slapping a slice of cheese down onto the bread in front of me.

"He's basically your boyfriend isn't he?" Said a voice from behind me.

It was Matt, poking his head out of the window to run the bell and slide a plate of eggs, sausages, and pancakes over to his sister. He was frowning at me, having obviously been eased ripping as he felt the need to offer us an opinion. I wasn't angry though as whenever we discussed Toby's fighting instinct he always sided with me.

"Yes. No. I don't really know, I mean we always call each other friends and what not but I think it's mostly cause we're just scared that if we call it anything then we'll have to admit that things have changed between us," I confessed, giving a half-hearted shrug as Matt took his hat off his head.

Running his hands over his crew cut he hummed, giving a thoughtful look as he nodded. "I guess that makes sense, but you didn't try to at least stop him? I mean you obviously care about him a lot."

"He once got his arm broken in several places, do you really think he'd listen to me. I tried to be a good friend but he just won't listen," I huffed.

"That doesn't mean give up," Marcy spoke up, before turning to the dining area. Holding the plate out she called the number sticky taped to it.

After an old woman sauntered forward to grab it Matt waited for forgery leave before turning a frown on his sister. "Marcy he's not giving up. You can't help someone who isn't willing to help themselves ."

"I don't mean it like that! I'm just saying if I were him I'd at least be there to watch and make sure nothing happens," Marcy reasoned.

"Toby hasn't expressed whether or not he wanted Eric there so how is that fair? He spends enough time playing nurse for him. He used to carry this kid home after some of the tougher fights."

"Okay fair point."

The two of them went back forth for a few more minutes, Matt was of course on my side the whole time like always. I didn't see why Marcy was always so quick to disagree though. A part of me realized it was probably the inherent belief that you had to always be willing to make space for those you care about. But it doesn't always work like that and sometimes you have to put yourself first or know when to say no.

Since my shift was only a few hours I got to leave early, a bag of food clutched tightly in one hand and a croissant in the other. I nibbled at it the whole way home, wondering if I should have tried harder to sway Toby. What if one of these days he ends up getting hurt. I mean really hurt, even dead. It's rare but it happens and the humans always chalk it up to pack violence or something stupid like that and never bother to do anything about it.

When I got to our house I noticed that the door was wide open and all sorts of boxes were lining the porch. I barely avoided walking into a pair of white men helping each other carry a mattress into the house. They were clearly human, I could tell from their scents. They were probably friends of Eli which meant there was a big chance they were magic users of some kind. What I wanted to know was why they were bringing in all this furniture.

Curious I walked up the steps to the house, frowning as I knocked over a vase, catching it at the last second. Cradling the vase like a baby I walked in to see my mother offer a different man a cup of iced tea, already pouring some into a tall glass.

"Oh thank you, ma'am," he said, flashing her a boyish smile.

"You're welcome young man. I know it's cold out there but all that work can get to you," she laughed, handing the glass over to him. "Are you one of my son's friends? I'm just asking cause he hardly brings them over and I must say you boys aren't nearly as rowdy ones he used to bring over."

Lips curving into another easy smile the man shook his head. "No, ma'am. Eli and I aren't really friends, I just felt I owed him a favor."

My mother nodded her head, about to ask him another question when she spotted me. Smile widening she rushed towards me, ushering me into the kitchen with her. She stopped when she saw the vase though, frowning before taking it from me.

"Did you have a good day at work hun?" she set the vase down on the dining table.

"Yeah, I guess. I brought you some chocolate chip muffins and I got Eli's egg biscuit sandwich," I said, handing the bag to her.

The man from earlier set down his empty glass, causing us to look up at him. Chuckling softly he shook his head saying, "I almost forgot to say thank you, Miss..."

"Mrs. Berardi," she said, taking the man's hand. "And there's no need to thank me..."

"Benjamin. Well, I'll be outside if anyone needs me. Have a good day Mrs. Berardi." He lifted his hand in a half wave before shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving us.

Watching mom as she pulled a muffin out of the bag I frowned. "Mom? You wouldn't happen to know why they're bringing all that stuff into the house would you?"

"You remember that girl you brother was talking about right?" she asked, leaning towards me with the goofiest grin on her face. I couldn't return it though. I was too busy hoping she wasn't about to say what I thought she was gonna say.

"Yes." I nodded, taking a muffin for myself.

"Well, her and her son are moving in."

"She has a son?" I blurted, nearly choking on my bite of muffin. I waved mom's hand away as I managed to get it to go down. When I finally assured her that I was fine she grew sullen as she gave me a worried smile.

"Yes. He's about five years old," she said.

Eli was serious about this girl... Mom my must have noticed how visibly upset I was getting as she reached out to rest a hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze she leaned in towards me.

"They're moving into my old room," she said, brown eyes looking deep into my own, "so you don't have to worry about making space for anyone."

"They're making you move out of your room?" I frowned, glancing over my shoulder at the sound of feet shuffling throughout the living room.

"It's the biggest room in the house and they need the space more than I do," she explained.

"Are they all three sharing the room? Then what was that mattress for?"

"Eli had them switch my old one out for a new one."

"That doesn't explain why he's bringing people here." Before I could say anything else a young woman came strolling into the kitchen.

My only assumption was that she had to be Tiffany. Her dirty blonde hair ran all the way down to her hips in a loose ponytail, the scrunchie she had holding it together was steadily slipping down. Her cool green eyes scanned me as she walked, tugging a small boy along with her, his little hand clutching her tightly.

"Hi Mrs. Berardi," Tiffany said, lips curving into a nervous smile as she pulled a chair back.

"Oh sweetheart how many times do I have to tell you, it's Aaliyah," Mom said, waving her off.

"Well, I was bringing Carson in here cause he was starting to get hungry." Lifting the boy off the ground she placed him in the chair.

He had a pair of big blue eyes that kept darting every which way as he took in his new surroundings. He had a plastic velociraptor sticking out of the front pocket of his coat and a race car in his other hand that started to slowly roll across the tabletop, glancing at me or my mother while Tiffany asked if she could fix him a snack.

"You don't have to ask. As a matter of fact," my mom got up, opening the door to the fridge wider as she shooed Tiffany away, "I'll fix him a snack. Hey Carson, do you like pizza rolls."

Keeping quiet he nodded his head, blushing when my mom smiled at him.

"Then I'll make you some pizza rolls, how does that sound?"

"What do you say, Carson?" Tiffany crossed her arms, smiled over at him as he ran the car across the table again. "Huh, Carson?"

"Thank you," he whispered, smiling at them. Running his car across the table he looked over at me before probably throwing it at me.

When the car rolled off the table and into my lap I sighed. I don't care what Eli had to say, with all these people in the house now there was no I was spending my weekends here. I still had clothes left over at the Vincent's. If I wanted I could just go there now.

Frowning at Carson I picked the car up out of my lap. Yeah, I nodded, Gale would be happy to let me spend the night.