Not in the Script

7

Ella's lower lip trembled. Her eyes flickered to Brylee's—searching, scared, but hopeful.

"...I want to stay," she whispered. "With you."

Brylee broke.

She nodded rapidly, not caring that her vision blurred. "Then you're staying," she said fiercely. "You're not going anywhere."

Ella exhaled sharply, like she had been holding her breath for years.

Colin let out a long breath, rubbing his jaw. "Alright," he said finally, pushing off the couch. "First order of business—do you like grilled cheese? Because I need an excuse to cook before Brylee yells at me."

Ella blinked. And then—barely—she laughed. A tiny, breathy laugh, but it was there.

Brylee wiped her eyes, her heart aching in the best way.

This wasn't temporary.

This wasn't just some kid passing through.

Ella was theirs.

She was home.

-----

The next day, the three of them piled into the car, heading straight to the store to pick out everything Ella needed.

Brylee watched as Ella wandered through the aisles, hesitant at first. She ran her fingers over different fabrics, lingering in front of a display of books, glancing at shelves of stuffed animals like she wanted to grab one but couldn't quite let herself.

Brylee nudged her gently. "You like any of them?"

Ella shrugged. "I don't know."

Colin, already holding an armful of pillows, chimed in, "Well, we're getting them anyway."

Ella blinked at him. "All of them?"

"Yep," he said, tossing another one on the pile. "We're excessive like that."

Brylee snorted, shaking her head. "We're not, but he is."

Ella let out a small laugh, but there was something cautious in her eyes.

So Brylee did what she knew best—she made sure Ella knew she had a say.

They picked out soft lavender bedding, stacks of books that made Ella's face light up, and clothes—so many clothes that Colin joked about needing a moving truck to get it all home.

Then came the paint.

-----

Back home, they pulled the furniture boxes into the hallway, covered the floors in plastic, and changed into their worst clothes.

Ella picked out the softest shade of blue—her favorite—but she still looked hesitant.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

Brylee squeezed her shoulder. "Of course. It's your room, sweetheart."

That was all Ella needed.

At first, she painted with careful, deliberate strokes, as if trying not to mess up.

Then Colin accidentally flicked paint at her.

Brylee gasped dramatically. "Colin!"

Colin held up his hands, completely unbothered. "It was an accident!"

Ella, lips twitching, lifted her roller. "Oh, yeah?"

Before he could react, a streak of blue landed right across his arm.

Brylee wheezed.

Colin stared at his arm, then at Ella, then at Brylee—who was already backing away. "Don't," she warned.

Too late.

A streak of blue landed right across her cheek.

"Colin!" she shrieked.

Ella cackled.

And just like that, all hell broke loose.

They abandoned their careful work in favor of absolute chaos. Ella ducked behind a dresser box, giggling as she launched a flick of paint in Colin's direction. Brylee tried (and failed) to grab Ella's roller—"Give me that!"—but the girl was too fast, laughing so hard she nearly tripped.

Colin, grinning like a menace, had way too much fun slapping random paint streaks on everyone.

By the time they actually finished painting, all three of them were covered.

Ella had blue in her hair. Colin had it everywhere. Brylee had given up, sitting on the floor, laughing breathlessly as she wiped paint from her nose.

It was messy. It was chaotic.

It was perfect.

-----

After scrubbing themselves clean (mostly—Colin was still finding paint on his arms hours later), they got back to work.

This time, they did it right. They rolled on the blue, smoothing over mistakes, filling in patches.

Ella stood in the middle of the room when it was done, staring at the walls. "I love it."

Brylee slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so glad."

Colin stretched, yawning. "Alright, let's build some furniture."

And they did. Together.

By the time night fell, Ella's bed was put together, her shelves were up, her clothes were hung, and her books were stacked neatly beside her bed.

She sat on the mattress, running her hands over the soft lavender comforter.

Brylee sat beside her. "You good?"

Ella swallowed hard. Then, so quietly it almost broke Brylee in half, she whispered, "I never had a room that was just mine before."

Brylee's throat tightened.

She took Ella's hand in hers. "Well, sweetheart, now you do."

Colin sat on Ella's other side, leaning back on his hands. "And you better get used to us barging in randomly."

Ella laughed, wiping at her eyes.

For the first time, she believed it.

She was home.