The Nomads’ Destiny

Thirty-one-year-old budget travel blogger/vlogger, photographer and writer Phoenix Hayes had never stayed anywhere twice.

Not in all the years since she’d graduated from Britechester with a Communications degree and a restless fire in her chest. While her siblings built lives in Sulani, Ravenwood, and Nordhaven, Tomarang or even back in their hometown Newcrest, Phoenix built hers on the road — a patchwork of travel vlogs, photo essays, freelance writing, and day jobs that let her live among locals instead of tourists.

She slept in hostels, spare rooms, fishing boats, and once, a hammock tied between two palm trees. She learned to cook street food in Marrakesh, to mend nets in Sulani, to barter in Selvadorada, to dance in Mt. Komorebi. She filmed everything — not for fame, but for the handful of viewers who loved her raw, unpolished honesty.

She never returned to the same place twice. Returning meant attachment. Returning meant roots. Returning meant she’d left something behind.

But Gibbi Point was different.

She told herself she came back for the Plumbird, or the geysers, or the way the air tasted like secrets. But deep down, she knew she’d returned because something had stayed with her the first time — something she hadn’t been ready to name.

Now, three weeks into her second stay, she knew every trail again, every scent, every shift in the wind. And she knew she wasn’t just passing through.

She’d come here to disappear for a while.

It happened on the Wanderwood Wilds ridge, where the trail narrowed into a slanted ledge above a creek. Phoenix had been chasing the perfect shot of the Plumbird — that neon‑feathered menace that only appeared when it felt like mocking photographers — when her boot slipped on wet moss.

She didn’t fall far. Just far enough to twist her ankle and land in a patch of ferns with a very undignified yelp.

And just far enough that her phone, already struggling with Gibbi Point’s notorious dead zones, flashed NO SERVICE and stayed that way.

“Hold up — don’t move,” a voice called from above. “I’m comin’ down.”

She looked up — and saw him.

A man with coily dark hair pulled back, dark warm brown skin, and hazel eyes flecked with green, climbing down the rocks with the ease of someone who belonged to the forest. A camera hung from his neck, battered and beloved. His linen shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his cargo pants stained with mud and ink.

He reached her and crouched low, voice gentle. “You alright, ma’am?”

“Yeah, just bruised my ego,” she muttered.

He huffed a soft laugh — warm, low, Southern‑tinged. “Yeah, that one takes the longest to heal.”

He introduced himself as, DeAndre Carter, a nature photographer, vlogger and blogger, and published writer who lived in a small cottage nearby. He checked her ankle with careful hands, then helped her stand, bracing her against his shoulder.

“No cell service out here,” he said. “But my place ain’t far. I can get you ice, maybe somethin’ warm to drink.”

She hesitated — then nodded. Which was not something she did lightly. A pretty girl like her, budget‑traveling the world for years, often in remote areas, does not go home with perfect strangers. But something about him felt steady. Safe. Like a pause in the chaos she carried everywhere.

His cottage was exactly what she expected: remote, cluttered, warm, full of books and camera gear and half‑finished essays.

A kettle sat on the stove. A Doberman — tall, sleek, black‑and‑rust, with watchful eyes — padded over and sniffed her ankle with the slow, deliberate seriousness of a security check. DeAndre snapped his fingers gently.

“Knox,” he murmured.

The dog leaned his weight against her leg in approval, and Phoenix couldn’t help but smile.

DeAndre made coffee. Phoenix iced her ankle. They talked until the sun dipped behind the trees. He was a nomad like her, had temporarily settled here to document the geyser and some natural phenomena. Similar to Phoenix.

He didn’t ask why she was all alone in Gibbi Point. She didn’t ask why he lived alone in the woods. They simply existed in the same quiet space, and it felt… right.

***

Two days later, she returned to thank him properly.

This time, she wore something softer — a linen dress in muted coral, her long hair down in loose waves, a hint of tinted balm on her lips. Not dressed up. Just… different.

She lifted the little loaf cake between them, but before she could speak, DeAndre’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in a slow, appreciative whistle.

“Damn,” he said softly, nodding, pushing out his lower lip. “So it is a girl after all.”

Phoenix blinked. “Excuse me?”

He held up both hands, laughing. “Nah, nah — jus’ playin’ wit’ ya. I just mean you always out here lookin’ like a female Indiana Jones. I ain’t never seen you like… this.”

She narrowed her eyes, smirking. “Umm, yeah, shocker — practical clothing, like a sane person. I mean, it’s usually a toss‑up between a designer gown, stilettos, and my Hermès bag when I go hiking, but yeah, female Indiana Jones usually wins, you called it.” She tilted her head. “Seriously though, how do you even know I’m always out here? Have you been stalking me? Eew. Creepy much?”

He grinned — slow, warm, appreciative, the kind of smile that made her feel seen in a way she wasn’t used to. “Nah, I don’t roll like that. I don’t stalk no skinny‑ass white girls that already look ‘n sound like trouble. Just observant. I’m out there all the time too — unless it’s rainin’, then I’m home writin’. You just stand out, that’s all. Fine mommas like you don’t usually end up in the Wilds.”

She made a face and shoved the cake against his chest. “Oh, okay, wow. So only good‑looking men can explore — the girls have to be total social and visual rejects to qualify. Gotcha. Yeah, well — before this gets any more cringe, here. This is for you. To say thank you for helping me. It’s lemon‑ginger. My mom’s recipe. Hope you don’t have allergies.”

He took it like she’d handed him a newborn. “Hold up — ya can cook? Nah, you playin’.”

“My mom and brother own a restaurant,” she said, chin lifting. “Of course I can cook. So well, actually, that I would know you do not cook a cake. You bake it. Most people know that. Even the feral ones. Except one and I am looking at him.”

He barked out a laugh, clutching the loaf to his chest like it needed protection. “A’ight, a’ight — chill! Calm them titties, girl. Ya got me. You bake a cake. My bad. So sorry, lil’ Miss Grammar Police.”

“Yeah, I am a girl, articulate, attractive, adventurous, and even a little domestic at times – but more importantly: I don’t take shit from anyone. Remember that.”

“Yeah, I will,” he said, eyes warm on her face. “Trust me. You ain’t nobody that’s easy forgotten. Come on in. How about some coffee with that BAKED cake?”

They sat at his tiny kitchen table — mismatched chairs, a chipped mug, Knox snoring underfoot. DeAndre poured the coffee for them, sliced the loaf, took one bite, and closed his eyes like he was praying.

“Lawd, have mercy,” he murmured. “Yo mama taught you right.” He leaned back, hand on his chest. “You tryna hurt somebody. This cake illegal in at least three states, shit’s addictive like crack!”

Phoenix snorted. “Yeah, it’s good. Like I said, my mom has been a cook since she was in her early twenties. She always cooked, at someone else’s restaurant, catering or her own restaurant. And she had to support all of us kids, mostly alone, my dad had a lot of demons to fight. He’s a great dad, especially once he finally got himself fixed.”

He leaned back, eyebrows raised. “So, you from a big family.”

“Yup,” she said. “Big, crazy family — but we love hard, and we’d walk through fire for each other. Mom’s a total dynamo, always moving, always juggling something, and Dad’s the one who slows her down before she burns out. Five kids total. I’m number three. Classic middle child energy. Two sisters, two brothers. What about you?”

He let out a breathy laugh — the kind that said oh, you have no idea.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… my situation’s a little different. But I am the middle child too. We got that in common.”

Phoenix tilted her head. “Different how?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m from Willow Creek, so that slow Southern life. Grew up like most kids — not rich, but happy enough, food on the table, roof over our heads. We brothers got the same mom, but different last names and different dads, none of them in the picture. Mine died young, so did my older brother’s, the younger one’s just disappeared, guess three kids was too much for him, we didn’t care, we had Mama and each other, for a while the grandparents helped but they die too,” His voice dipped. “But then Mama got the sickle cell and passed when I was eighteen. Old enough to understand, too young to be anybody’s daddy… but that’s what it turned into.”

He huffed a small laugh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “My baby brother was still a kid. And our big bro? Whew.” He shook his head, fond and exasperated all at once. “Good dude, heart big as the sky… but Lord, he is a whole dumpster fire when it comes to life choices. Man got kids like he handin’ out party favors. I ain’t even playin’, I don’t even know all of them, not sure he even does it’s that many. Some of ’em grown now — he started early on that mess, back in high school. Me and my little brother call him the ‘sperm sprinkler.’”

Phoenix couldn’t help a brief giggle, he chimed in chuckled, then shrugged, softer now. “So, it fell on me. I didn’t dream about raisin’ nobody that young, but I wasn’t about to let my little brother grow up without a decent role model. I think I did right by him. And by Mama. He still got no criminal record and no kids, far as I know.”

Phoenix’s expression softened.

He continued, “Darius — he’s the oldest. Darius King. Forty.

Nicest damn man you’ll ever meet, and that’s the problem. Too nice. Too charming. Too much like his daddy. I know his old man is dead, and we never once seen him. Now here goes Darius, kids everywhere, no joke, married to one of the baby mamas right now, real nice lady, but who knows how long that’ll last, cos he just can’t quit with the BS and keep it in his pants. I think it’s his third marriage. No fourth. Gotta be fourth. Three divorces, always the same reason, caught him cheatin’. You’d think he’d eventually learn and grow up, but no. I ain’t even gonna pretend to count all them baby mommas. I know I met a lot of them, but I only know for sure about the ones he see regularly. He got some kids livin’ wit him, by the baby mommas he actually married or is married too, and those are all good kids, mindin’ manners and smart and all, but all them side-chicks he got – damn – I only met a few of his other kids at funerals and weddings. Like meetin’ strangers who look like my brother. Messed up. I don’t like it, but nothin’ I can do about it.”

Phoenix snorted. “Sounds… chaotic. I have a family member who became legend for building his teenage son a condom box pyramid in the kid’s bathroom when he had his first real girlfriend like a big fat hint. Maybe try that with Darius?”

“Ah, you don’t even know nothin’, girl. I bought him boxes of condoms — boxes — but they don’t do a damn thing if he won’t put ’em on. And I sure as hell ain’t gon’ be around to do that for him too. Hell no.”

Phoenix burst out laughing, hand over her mouth. DeAndre laughed with her, shaking his head. “See? You get it. Man’s a disaster.”

He let the laughter fade, breath easing out. “Then there’s Dante — the baby. Dante Jackson. Twenty‑seven now, but still twelve in his mind sometimes I ain’t kidding. Wild hair, wild heart, wild everything.”

A softer, more tired chuckle slipped out. “I raised him best I could, try to do right by him. He was doin’ good, too, had a good job, his own place in San Myshuno, wasn’t doin’ nothin’ he shouldn’t be doin’, until he screwed up. Went out late with his friends one Sunday, smoking weed and drinkin’ till the morning, late for work and mouthed off to his boss. Boy done lost his job, couldn’t keep his place, so he ended up crashin’ with Darius. Like that was ever gonna help anything.”

He rubbed his jaw, the worry settling in. “Now I’m just prayin’ he don’t pick up all them bad habits. Don’t look good.”

He shook his head, remembering the scene. “Last time I went home, I walk up to both of them sittin’ on the front porch in the middle of the day, ’bout three quarters into a bottle of Henny like they ain’t got no care in the world.” A tired laugh slipped out. “I dragged Dante under a cold shower, drowned him in coffee, and sent him out to go find a job. Then I had myself a straight talk with Darius.”

She laughed softly. “So you’re the responsible one.”

“Hell yeah, I am. Somebody had to be. I barely even date. I’m real careful about where I stick my… ya know.” He gestured vaguely. “Ain’t got no kids, don’t want no kids. Not until—” He stopped himself, shook his head. “Anyway. My brothers are crazy as hell. But they’re family and we are real close too.”

Phoenix smiled. “Sounds like it.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, then paused — really paused — like he suddenly heard himself. His brows pulled together, a quiet, almost startled laugh slipping out.

“Damn,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t… usually tell people all that. Definitely not someone I met, what — twice? Don’t know what it is. You just… easy to talk to. And easy to trust.”

Phoenix felt the same realization settle over her — warm, strange, familiar. “Yeah,” she said softly. “You are too. ’Cause I can guarantee you, I am not in the habit of falling down and going home with the first stranger who helps me up.”

She laughed, he chimed in — and then he tilted his head, giving her that sly, sideways grin.

“Yeah, I know — most white girls out here alone in the wilderness ain’t exactly tryna trust some random Black dude they just met. I didn’t even think about that when I offered to take you home and ice that ankle. Just reflex to run over when I saw you disappear. But I was shocked as hell when you said yes.”

Phoenix snorted, nearly choking on her coffee. “Yeah, I get it. If you didn’t vibe right with me, I’d have hobbled my ass right back into the forest.”

He laughed — loud, warm, real. “See? That’s what I mean. You different.”

Phoenix met his eyes, steady. “Yeah. So are you. Guess that’s why this doesn’t feel weird.”

His smile softened — slow, knowing. “Yeah… birds of a feather.”

“Looks like it,” she said, and for a moment neither of them looked away.

And in that moment — over lemon‑ginger cake, coffee, and shared chaos — something clicked. Not romantic. But familiar. Like two people who’d lived whole different lives and somehow ended up shaped by the same storms.

They definitely had things in common beyond photography, videography, and a social media presence.

Like recognizing someone who speaks your language.

***

They started hiking together, photographing together, editing each other’s posts and book drafts. Trading tips on angles and filters. Helping each other editing videos.
Often talking until dawn sitting on his porch while Knox snored at their feet.

They explored Gibbi Point together from then on — trading skills, trading courage, trading trouble.

Phoenix dragged DeAndre down to the river, where the kayaks bobbed in the water like a rainbow waiting for trouble. She showed him how to paddle without tipping, how to read the current, how to glide instead of fight it.

He pretended he wasn’t nervous. “Girl, I ain’t no good at swimming. If I roll this shit, my ass be drownin’.”

“I’d save you, relax! A man as athletic as you shouldn’t whine about getting a little wet.”

Smirking, he splashed her with his paddle. She splashed back. Within seconds, neither of them could see where they were going.

DeAndre got his revenge at the archery range. Phoenix botched every shot, hitting everything except the target, while he hit the bull’s‑eye three times in a row.

She complained, so he offered to teach her. He stood behind her, steadying her elbows, guiding her breath. She hit the target once. Barely. After that, they both realized how close they were — things turned awkward and nothing productive happened anymore.

They wandered Crystal Valley next — grabbed cupcakes from Hazel Hill’s stand, chased the rare Jorjan Birdwing butterfly through the park, and ended up laughing on a bench with sticky fingers and sore legs.

At night, they hit the Fearful Fish Lounge. Phoenix taught him how to read a room for light — neon reflections in glasses, silhouettes against the stage. DeAndre taught her how to people‑watch and add ridiculous narrations until she was doubled over, gasping for air.

Then came the Glow & Flow night. The bay lit up like someone had spilled stars into the water. They kicked off their shoes, rolled up their pants, and waded in, glowing blue around the edges, catching glimpses of Astral Pro‑Jellyfish drifting under the surface.

That’s when it happened.

Phoenix yelped. DeAndre splashed around like a man twice his size shouldn’t. “WHAT!?”
“Something touched me!”
“It’s a jellyfish! That’s the whole point we out here, woman! No need to be hollerin’.”
“NO! It hurts! It really REALLY hurts!”
“Oh shit! One got ya? Why didn’t ya say so!?”

He scooped her up and slogged ashore as fast as a man could in knee‑deep water. He set her down and inspected her leg with his phone flashlight.

“Yup, sho as hell gotcha. Dayum, girl — in all these years that never happened to me, not once!”
“Great! Now what? I doubt any doctors are still open.”
“Don’t need no doctor. I know what to do.”

He started fumbling with his belt, turning toward the faint glow of the water.

She blinked. “Please… Dre, wait — just give me a minute.”
“Wait with what?! I’m tryna help you. This gotta happen fast or your leg will be twice the size in no time.”
“Okay, I’ll just close my eyes. Just try not to get any on my clothes.”
He turned back to her. His dark skin was almost one with the darkness around them, but even in the dark, she could see his eyes widen.
“Huh?”
“Just pee on me already.”
“What the hell you talkin’ ’bout, woman!? I ain’t down for that kinda kinky ass shit!” “You weren’t going to pee on me?”
“NO! Why the hell would I? What’s wrong witchu!?”
“I saw it on a nature show! You’re supposed to pee on it!”

He stared at her, his expression somewhere between appalled and confused.

“Girl, no. Vinegar. Or hot water. I keep some vinegar for this kinda thing in this little metal vial on my belt, but the damn clip is stuck. I ain’t pissin’ on no girls. What the hell kinda raggedy ass nonsense you be watchin’ on TV!?”

“…Oh.” Her tone and facial expression had him sink to his knees for laughing so damn hard, after handing her the little vial blindly, shaking for laughter she poured it on her leg.

They laughed so hard it echoed across the bay, startling a flock of birds from their nighttime roost.

Later, when the glow dimmed and the night settled, he walked her home.

They were birds of a feather, and they both knew it.

***

The shift from friendship to something else wasn’t planned. It happened after a long hike, both of them soaked to the bone from a sudden Gibbi Point downpour by the time they stumbled up the steps of his cabin, rain running off their clothes in rivulets. DeAndre fumbled with the key, laughing under his breath, and Phoenix shoved him inside before another gust of wind could drench them further.

The door clicked shut behind them. Silence. Just the sound of their breathing and the rain hammering the roof.

They stood there, dripping, shivering, grinning like idiots — and something in the air shifted. A pull. A spark. A moment that had been building for days.

Phoenix pushed a wet curl out of her face, still catching her breath. DeAndre watched her, chest rising and falling, something warm and certain settling behind his eyes.

He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to step back. She didn’t. If anything, she leaned closer.

His hand found her waist, warm even through the soaked fabric, and he drew her gently against him. Phoenix’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt, steadying herself, steadying him.

“Dayum girl … you better be stoppin’ me now,” he murmured — not a warning, not a question, just soft and reverent.

She lifted her chin in answer. That was all he needed.

He kissed her — full lips brushing hers first in a careful, testing touch, as if making sure she truly wanted this. She did. She leaned into him, closing the distance, her mouth opening to his as the kiss deepened, slow at first, then undeniably something more. Something next‑level. Something that changed everything.

The world outside blurred into rain and thunder. Inside, there was only warmth, breath, and the dizzying realization that this — this — had been waiting between them for a long time.

When they finally pulled back, foreheads touching, both of them laughing softly, the truth settled between them without either of them needing to say it.

Phoenix shivered. “Okay,” she said, voice low, “not to ruin the moment, but I’m freezing.”

DeAndre nodded. “Yeah… same. We need to get out of these clothes and into a hot shower. You go first. I’ll build a fire.”

She nodded and started toward the bathroom, then hesitated in the doorway. She turned back to him, voice light but unmistakably intentional.

“Dre… how do you feel about water conservation? Especially hot water.”

He blinked. Then that slow, warm grin spread across his face. He got the hint.

“Oh. I’m all for savin’ water.”

He crossed the room to her, and their arms wrapped around each other just as the bathroom door clicked shut — locking out Knox, who snorted in protest, shook his fur, and wandered off.

When they emerged together, each wrapped in one of his hoodies and track pants — Phoenix’s slender frame swallowed by his clothing — they curled up in front of the fireplace, wrapped in blankets, hair still damp, mugs of hot coffee warming their hands. The fire crackled softly, throwing gold across their skin.

Every so often one of them leaned in for another soft kiss — unhurried, exploratory, the kind that said we’re here now, and we’re not going anywhere.

And nobody did, as that night became the first one she stayed over.

At breakfast the next morning, neither of them could stop grinning. Both knew it, felt it — the quiet, glowing certainty that something had shifted, something gentle and inevitable and right.

They had found the person who made the world make sense.

No question. No hesitation. No fear.
Just a sudden shift, like a logical next step.

***

Phoenix checked out of her rental cabin and moved into DeAndre’s cottage in Wanderwood Wilds, a small residential lot tucked between the geyser trails and the creek.

It didn’t feel rushed, just right. They didn’t give it a name. They simply lived — fully, freely, together.

Until the day Phoenix started packing for a visit back home in Newcrest to meet her new niece and nephew — Declan, born to her sister Robin and husband Alder, and Dara, born to her brother Spencer and Lamyai.

The usual excitement of going home — seeing her family, letting her mom and dad dote on her again — was overcast by a quiet melancholy. A sadness that clung to her shoulders as she folded her clothes. A sadness of leaving someone special behind.

She paused mid-packing, stuck her head out the door, and called, “Dre?”

Inside, he was mid-rep, muscles taut, sweat glistening across his shoulders. The barbell hovered in the air for a beat before he lowered it with control and turned toward her, breath steady.

“’Sup?”

“Come with me,” she said softly. “I want to introduce you to my family. I want you to meet everyone.”

He placed the barbell back onto the rack beside the bedroom door, wiped his palms on his shorts, blinked once, then that slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Finally! Dayum woman, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be the dirty little secret or what. I absolutely wanna meet your crazy‑ass family. Hell yeah, I’ll come!”

She laughed. “Well, then get online, book that flight and get packing, big guy. I already booked a week ago and it looked pretty empty. If we hurry, we can get seats next to each other on the plane. Not exactly prime travel season right now.”

He stepped the two strides it took to reach her, hands sliding to her waist as he dipped his head.

“A’ight,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers, “but fair warning…” Another kiss, deeper this time. “…if I’m meetin’ your people…” One more, slow and claiming. “…you meetin’ mine.”

She raised a brow. “Your brothers?”

“Yeah,” he groaned dramatically. “Those two crazy MFs. Darius’ll charm the pants off you — literally, if I let him — and Dante’ll probably try to adopt you as his emotional support white girl.”

Phoenix snorted. “Should I be scared?”

“Hell yeah, you should,” he said, kissing her jaw. “I am scared AF. They be the only people who really know me. You gonna hear all the shit I been up to since birth. And I swear, if they get one look at you, they might try to steal you from me. I might be throwin’ down wit’ my bros.”

She cupped his face, soft and sure. “Nobody could steal me from you. I am addicted to your smartassery and hot bod. And all the other stuff that made me fall in love with you.”

He stilled — just for a moment — like the words hit somewhere deep.

Then he kissed her, slow and grateful.

The trip started before they even left the cottage.

Phoenix was trying to zip her suitcase while DeAndre sat on it, bouncing like a toddler on a trampoline.

“Stop moving!” she hissed.

“Girl, this thing got more clothes than a whole department store,” he said, laughing. “Whatchu packin’? How long you plannin’ on bein’ gone?! Thought ya said one week, two tops.”

“It’s fall in Newcrest! I need layers! I know you grew up in the South, but even in fall sometimes we get this white stuff called snow and you definitely need layers. Lots of them.”

“You need therapy.”

She shoved him off the suitcase. He landed on the floor, laughing so hard Knox barked like he was cheering.

By the time they reached the airport before dawn the next morning, they were already in that giddy, slightly unhinged mood that only comes from being too excited and too sleep‑deprived.

At security, Phoenix tried to walk through the scanner with her water bottle still in her hand.

“Ma’am,” the TSA agent said, deadpan, “you can’t bring that.”

DeAndre leaned in, grabbed the bottle from her, and tossed her into the trashcan like DeShawn “Skyhook” Rivers landing a slam dunk, whispering loudly, “She’s new to civilization.”

Phoenix elbowed him. “I hope they confiscate your mouth.”

The agent snorted. “How long have you all been married?”

“I like the way you thinkin’, man,” DeAndre said fist-bumping the stranger like they were old friends.

Phoenix nearly choked.

They found seats near the window, and DeAndre immediately started narrating the people around them like a nature documentary.

“And here we observe the rare species known as the Business Bro, identifiable by his emotional support laptop and inability to speak below 90 decibels…”

Phoenix wheezed. “Dre staaahp, he’s gonna hear you!”

“He already heard me. He just pretended he didn’t. That’s dominance behavior.”

She laughed so hard she dropped her boarding pass, and DeAndre caught it mid‑air with a flourish.

“See? I’m useful.”

“No. You just contain the chaos you create.”

“Same thing.”

***

On the plane they ended up in a two‑seat row, which was dangerous for everyone else on board.

Phoenix tried to put her bag in the overhead bin but couldn’t lift it high enough. DeAndre lifted it with one hand like it weighed nothing.

“Show‑off,” she muttered.

“You like it.” He grinned at her, flexing his notable muscles. He worked out. A lot. And Phoenix couldn’t deny liking the results. A lot.

“Unfortunately.”

The older woman across the aisle giggled. “You two are adorable. How long have you been married?”

DeAndre grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. Not long enough. After you, wifey,” He smirked at Phoenix, winking gesturing to the window seat.

During takeoff, Phoenix squeezed his hand. Not because she was scared — but because she liked the excuse. Touching him felt really good.

He squeezed back, thumb brushing her knuckles.

Halfway through the flight, turbulence hit. Phoenix gasped. DeAndre whispered, “Relax, babe, just the plane twerkin’.” As if on cue he played some twerk-worthy tune on his phone.

The entire row burst out laughing.

Even the flight attendant paused, hand on the drink cart, shoulders shaking.

By the time they landed, the whole plane knew them as “that funny couple in row 34.”

As they walked through the terminal, rolling their bags side by side, Phoenix glanced at him — at his easy smile, his warm eyes, the way he matched her stride without even thinking about it.

“You know,” she said softly, “traveling with you really hits different.”

He raised a brow. “Different good or different ‘I ain’t never doin’ this again with that MoFo’?”

“No. It’s good,” she said. “Really good. Definitely added to my playlist.”

He bumped her shoulder with his. “Yeah, I was thinkin’ the same thing. I ain’t never had this much fun gettin’ from point A to point B. Yo skinny ass is hella fun to be with.”

She smiled. “Maybe we’re just entertaining. Why is everyone trying to marry us off? Do I vibe like a trad wife or something?”

“Nah,” he said, slipping his fingers through hers. “We’re just right together.”

“We are. Oh—brace yourself. I can see my parents. Hope you’re ready for the dad interrogation on the drive home.”

“Too late to pretend I don’t speak any English?”

“Why would I date someone I can’t even have a convo with?”

“Maybe you just want me for my body. And the services I can provide…”

They were still laughing when the glass doors slid open to the arrivals hall and her mom waved excitedly, nudging poor Stryker over and over. “There they are! I see them, I see them!”

***

The introductions went well. On both sides. Phoenix’ family knew about him, but loved his humor and laid-back ways when they actually met him. Gibbi Point was too remote to attempt video calls, so they had only seen photos of him. His personality won everyone over in no time. By day two he was going to the gym with her brothers like they had known each other forever.

They only spent a few days in Willow Creek after leaving Newcrest.

His brothers were very nice and hilarious. Darius’ wife, a very welcoming, pretty, and voluptuous blonde named Tara, was pregnant again; they had two boys already and were excited about a girl.

Phoenix liked them all, except for the fact that Tara acted as if she had no idea about all the wild oats her husband had sown — and according to DeAndre and Dante, was still sowing liberally. But they insisted she knew exactly the kind of man she’d married.

Dante had his own introduction to make — a brand‑new fiancée, actually. She’d proposed to him, and judging by the way he floated into the room, she had him twisted in all the best ways. A gorgeous, dark‑skinned beauty named Aaliyah Byrne.

Dre and Phoenix didn’t rush, time didn’t rush; it settled around them.

They quickly had a comfortable rhythm in Gibbi Point.

They spent their first Christmas together with the entire Hayes family in Newcrest, exchanging gifts in matching pajamas her mom insisted on buying for everyone. The only problem? Even the XL set she ordered for DeAndre fit like compression gear. In the end, he had to throw on Stryker’s robe just to be decent for the family photos — and when that wouldn’t close either, Stryker handed him the red coat from his Santa costume. The toddlers screamed with joy, convinced Santa had personally shown up to hang out with them. Every attempt at a family Christmas picture failed because everyone was laughing too hard.

They flew home again for her sister’s birthday, then for Darius and Tara’s baby shower, then for a Fourth of July barbecue where DeAndre ended up manning the grill with Phoenix’ uncle Silas like he’d been doing it for years. With each visit, each celebration, each moment folded into the next, it became clearer — they weren’t just dating. DeAndre was part of the family.

***

But life has a way of surprising even the wanderers.

Phoenix stood in the doorway of their tiny bathroom, holding a pregnancy test with shaking hands. DeAndre looked up from his notebook, eyes widening, breath catching.

“Nah, girl… you playin’?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

Phoenix stared at the two pink lines like they were a glitch in reality.

“No,” she breathed. “No, no, no… this can’t be right.”

DeAndre wasn’t any steadier. He paced, rubbing the back of his neck, muttering, “These things wrong all the time, right? We gotta get a real test. A doctor test. ’Cause this… nah. This don’t make sense. I mean, we had a damn condom burst once. ONCE. You on birth control too — that jus’ don’t add up. Nah. That ain’t straight.”

They booked the earliest gyn appointment they could get — both clinging to the hope that the drugstore test was faulty, that the universe wasn’t playing this kind of joke on them.

But the ultrasound wand didn’t lie.

The gyn frowned softly at the screen, then at Phoenix. “Your IUD has shifted out of place. It’s not where it should be. That’s why it failed. It needs to come out right away.”

Phoenix felt the room tilt.

Dre was asked to step out while the gyn removed the displaced IUD. For a split second, Phoenix worried he might not come back. He’d always said he didn’t want kids. So had she.

But he returned — tense, pale, but there.

The gyn had him sit down, then sat on a stool herself, voice warm and steady.

“Alright. You are pregnant. I can confirm successful implantation — there’s no doubt. And since this wasn’t planned, we should talk through your options. There’s no pressure today. You have time. Some people continue the pregnancy, some consider adoption, some choose to end it. What matters is what feels right for you. And you shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

Phoenix swallowed hard, throat tight. “I… I don’t know what to do. We’ve only been together eight months. We can’t afford a baby. We live in a tiny cabin in the woods — we barely fit in it as is. I don’t even know if we’re… ready for something like this.”

She looked at DeAndre.

He looked back — wide‑eyed, shaken, trying to be steady but clearly just as overwhelmed.

The gyn nodded gently. “Whatever you choose, you don’t have to decide today. I’ll send you home with brochures explaining every option. Talk it over. Make an informed decision. Based on your dates, you have about six weeks left to choose.”

Neither of them spoke.

The silence said everything.

Newcrest
Hayes Family Backyard BBQ

The Hayes family had gathered for another celebration. Spencer and Lamyai were expecting baby number two, so mother‑hen Sophie had declared attendance mandatory.

Phoenix was quieter than usual. Sophie noticed immediately, but Stryker and Spencer chalked it up to jet lag.

Stryker was at the grill with Spencer, Keanu, Viggo, and Alder — all of them suddenly self‑appointed grillmasters, bickering like it was a competitive sport.

Indie and Robin stood together, covertly watching Phoenix from across the yard.

“Where is DeAndre? Did they fight? Did they break up? And what is wrong with her? She looks like shit. The bags under her eyes have bags,” Indie whispered, eyes narrowing. “Something’s off. Look at her. That outfit is a full‑on cry for help. Oh my god — they broke up. They broke up and nobody told us ANYTHING. What the actual hell.”

Robin squinted. “Agreed. I mean, I get the whole digital‑nomad‑functional‑clothes thing, but she couldn’t find anything that doesn’t look like a Victorian nightgown? She could’ve asked either of us to borrow something.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Oh! Do you think she stress‑ate? Like… major breakup binge? We’ve both been there — me more than once — a few date nights with emotional‑damage carbs and suddenly nothing fits anymore.” Indie’s voice softened as her face fell. “Especially after I lost Chris.”

The name hung between them. She still carried a candle for Christian Cameron. Dr. Christian Cameron now.

Robin hissed, “Indie, she’s not you. You took binging to new levels.”

Indie swatted her arm. “Okay, the Chris‑thing was definitely understandable. And then I had one postpartum donut phase — let it go. All I’m saying is, it happens.”

“Did you ask her what’s going on?”

“Mom did.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We got interrupted and Phoe walked off.”

“So ask her again!”

“Why me? This is Phoenix. She has a temper on a good day. I am not risking my life because you’re nosey. You go ask her!”

“You’re older!”

“By one year! And Phoenix is older than both of us. You ask. You’re the baby of the family — if she tries to kill you, Mom will intervene. Plus, you have two kids. I only have one and a very stable husband. Mom won’t risk your two being half‑orphaned and raised by that tattoo artist.”

Indie gasped. “Excuse you?! I know you didn’t just lowkey talk shit about Viggo while you’re married to that wet blanket Alder. Is he even awake or asleep with his eyes open?”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Take that back!”

She was gearing up to retaliate when Indie elbowed her sharply, eyes widening as she pointed toward the patio door.

DeAndre walked in — flanked by two Black men, one holding hands with a gorgeous Black woman, the other with his arm casually draped around a voluptuous blonde.

Dre smiled at Phoenix. She crossed the yard to him, kissed him, hugged the others. Then he turned to the Hayes clan — all of whom were frozen mid‑motion, staring like a paused video.

He cleared his throat.

“A’ight, listen up, y’all… I ain’t tryin’ to steal nobody’s thunder, and sorry for bustin’ in like that, but these two here are my brothers — Darius and Dante — and they wives, Tara and Aaliyah. Had to go pick ’em up real quick. Wanted all of y’all here for this.”

A ripple of confusion passed through the family.

Dre wrapped an arm around Phoenix, pulling her close.

“So, we’ll make this quick, but me and Phoenix got somethin’ to say.”

Phoenix squeezed his hand. He lifted it, kissed her knuckles, then raised her left hand high, turning it so the ring caught the light.

Everyone leaned in.

Sophie was already crying. Stryker’s mouth fell open — perfectly mirrored by Spencer and Keanu.

“Is that a… is that a ring?!” Stryker sputtered.

Dre grinned, nervous and proud.

“Yes, sir… it is. So yeah, uh… we got married.” He slipped an arm around Phoenix, pulling her in with quiet certainty. “That’s my Mrs. Carter right here. Sorry for the no heads‑up, but Phoe and I jus’ ain’t the trad types. Didn’t wanna blow a bunch of money on a wedding when we need it in other places. We made our promises to each other, and that was enough for us.”

Chaos. Screaming. Hugging. Sophie sobbing into Stryker’s shoulder. Indie shrieking. Spencer yelling, “WHAT THE ACTUAL—?!”

A beat.

Then Dre lifted his hand again.

“A’ight, a’ight — hold up. One more thing.”

Silence.

He wrapped his arm around Phoenix.

“Since we already droppin’ surprises… congrats, Sophie and Stryker. Y’all ain’t just ’bout to be grandparents again — you ’bout to be grandparents 2.0.
So nah, my girl here didn’t just get a little pudgy ’round the middle. She buildin’ a whole human up in there.”

For a split second, the backyard went silent — a stunned, suspended breath.

Then it exploded.

Voices shot up all at once — shocked shouts, laughter, overlapping questions, cheers, someone screaming “NO WAY!”, someone else yelling “Phoenix and a baby?!”, “MARRIED!? GET OUTTA HERE! WHAAAAT!?”chairs scraping, kids squealing, the whole Hayes clan erupting like a firework going off in a tin can.

Sophie gasped, then launched herself at Phoenix, pulling her into a crushing hug. Indie and Robin piled on, shrieking and crying and talking over each other. Stryker and Dre’s brothers grabbed Dre in a flurry of handshakes, back slaps, and half‑shouted congratulations.

Dre raised his voice over the chaos, soft but proud:

“A baby boy. Due in about four months. His name’s gonna be Malachi. And I ain’t gonna lie — it wasn’t an easy decision at first. We really talked about ending the pregnancy. We weren’t sure we were ready, or if it was the right time, or if we could handle it – let alone afford it. We even had an appointment set.
But then I remembered what I told her when we first met — that I didn’t want kids unless I found that special someone. And dayum, that woman is special if I ever seen special. So we canceled that shit and decided we’re gonna roll with it. Nomads no more, we settled down. Together, and we’re callin’ Gibbi Point home.
And look… I’m thirty‑six. She’s thirty‑one. If not now, then when? We realized we wanted him. Really wanted him. I mean, he definitely wanted us to be his parents, happened despite two forms of birth control. Tell me that ain’t fate.
So yeah, we ready — and if we ain’t, we gonna get there fast.
Oh — and sidenote — if any of y’all are handy, we’re about to start a little remodeling project on our cabin. Gonna need to add on. So if you wanna help a brother out, I’ll pay ya in food and gratitude.”

Phoenix leaned into him, smiling through tears.

The entire backyard erupted again — louder this time, pure joy, pure chaos, pure family celebration.