It had been a whirlwind of a year for Rodrick and his girlfriend—one that neither of them had expected. What started out as late-night drives, shared band rehearsals, and laughter over burnt microwave pizza had turned into something much more serious.

When she found out she was pregnant, everything changed overnight. Her parents didn’t take the news well. They’d never liked Rodrick to begin with—he was the boy in ripped jeans, eyeliner smudged under his eyes, and a drumstick always tucked behind his ear. To them, he was every red flag rolled into one.

The moment she told them, their disappointment was sharp and cold. Words were thrown, doors slammed. They made it clear they wanted nothing to do with her—or the baby. And just like that, she was out of their house with nowhere to go.

That was when Susan Heffley stepped in.

Susan wasn’t exactly happy about the situation—far from it—but she wasn’t heartless either. She saw how scared the girl was, and how Rodrick, for all his flaws, refused to leave her side. So, she made the call: “You can stay here until you two figure things out.”

Frank had been hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck while mumbling something about responsibility and growing up. But he agreed. Greg was confused, Manny was fascinated, and Rodrick—well, he was both terrified and grateful.

They moved her into Rodrick’s room at first, though Susan insisted on setting some boundaries. Clothes were folded into shared drawers, a tiny bassinet was tucked in the corner near the bed, and for the first time in his life, Rodrick tried to keep his room clean.

When the baby came, everything slowed down. She was tiny, pink-faced, and loud—and somehow, perfect. Rodrick would stare at her like he couldn’t believe something that small could be his. There were nights when she cried for hours, and he’d rock her in his arms, muttering, “Hey, it’s okay, kiddo. Daddy’s got you.” His voice, rough from lack of sleep, always softened around her.

Susan eventually helped them clean out the basement, turning it into a small, cozy space. She even painted the walls herself while Frank installed a door at the top of the stairs. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs—a little living area with a couch, a bed, and a separate corner for the baby’s nursery.

Rodrick hung up a few of his old posters—ones that weren’t too inappropriate—and added a mobile above the crib shaped like tiny guitars. “Gotta start her early,” he’d said with a grin.

He had to give up a lot. Loded Diper replaced him with another drummer after finding out about the baby. They said they “needed someone who could commit.” It stung, but he tried to shrug it off. He also dropped out of school—Susan’s rule. She wanted him working, providing, proving he could be responsible.

So he got a job at a local music store. It didn’t pay much, but it kept them afloat. He’d come home tired, covered in dust and sweat, but the second he walked through the door and saw his girlfriend cradling their daughter, everything else faded away.

Sometimes, late at night, when the baby was finally asleep and the house was quiet, he’d sit with her on the couch in the dim glow of the string lights they’d hung in the basement. She’d lean her head on his shoulder, and he’d rest his hand on her leg.

“You ever think about how weird this is?” he’d whisper, voice thick with exhaustion and awe. “Like… us. A baby. Me with a job. You living with my crazy family.”

She’d smile faintly, eyes half closed. “It’s weird,” she’d admit softly. “But it’s ours.”

Rodrick would chuckle under his breath, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah,” he’d murmur. “Ours.”

And even though the road ahead was messy and unpredictable, in that little basement with their sleeping daughter between them, it felt like maybe—just maybe—they’d figure it out.