The apartment felt different with Adrian in it. Smaller, somehow, but also more alive. I watched him take it all in—the exposed brick walls, the leather couch Dad had insisted was an investment piece, the bookshelves Maya had organized by color despite my protests. His gaze lingered on the family photos scatteredthroughout the space, and I found myself seeing the place through his eyes.
It wasn’t much. A small, two-bedroom apartment above a hardware store, furnished with a mix of our family stuff and impulse purchases from garage sales. But it was ours. Maya’s personality was all over it, from the colorful “temperature” blanket she’d crocheted with the folks at the yarn shop to the “World’s Okayest Brother” mug on the dish mat by the sink to the purple “Future Husky” hoodie thrown over the arm of the sofa.
“This is perfect,” Adrian said quietly, stopping in front of a framed photo of all four of us taken the Christmas before the accident. We were wearing matching plaid shirts—Mom’s idea—and grinning like idiots in front of the store’s holiday display. “You all look so happy.”
“We were,” I said, moving to stand beside him. “Mom insisted on the matching shirts every year. Said it was good for the Christmas card, but really, she just liked having us all coordinated like some kind of lumberjack boy band.”
Adrian’s laugh was soft. “I love that. The coordinated chaos of it all.” He moved to another photo—Maya’s acceptance of an academic award at last year’s end-of-the-year ceremony. “She must be so excited about college.”
“Terrified is more like it,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “She’s never been anywhere but Legacy. Sometimes I worry—” I caught myself before I could spiral into my usual anxiety about whether I was doing right by her, whether I was holding her back.
“Worry about what?”
I gestured vaguely around the apartment. “This isn’t exactly preparing her for the real world. She’s never lived in a big city, never had to navigate anything more complicated than Founder’s Row on market day.”
Adrian was quiet for a moment, studying Maya’s photo. “You know what I see when I look at this?”
“What?”
“A kid who’s confident enough to dream big because someone’s always believed in her. That doesn’t happen by accident, Maddox.”
The simple certainty in his voice hit me harder than any grand speech could have. I cleared my throat, suddenly needing to move, to do something with my hands.
“Wine?” I offered, heading toward the small kitchen. “I’ve got a bottle of red that’s supposedly decent. Gift from a customer who was grateful I carried the specific type of valve he needed for his old radiators.”
“The glamorous life of a hardware store owner,” Adrian teased, following me. But when I glanced back, his expression was warm, not mocking.
As I pulled down glasses and uncorked the wine, Adrian continued his gentle exploration. I watched from the corner of my eye as he noticed the box labeled “Mom’s Christmas Stuff” tucked under the bench by the window, the stack of Maya’s report cards held down by a paperweight shaped like a tiny hammer.
“Maddox,” he said suddenly, his voice careful. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“After your parents died, how did you manage it all? I mean, financially? Running the store, taking care of Maya…”
I paused, the wine bottle halfway to the glass. It wasn’t a question I’d expected, and definitely not one I was comfortable answering. But something about the way he asked—not prying, just genuinely curious—made me tell the truth.
“I sold the house,” I said finally, focusing on pouring the wine so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “The one we grew up in. It wastoo big, too many memories. Maya begged for a fresh start anyway. I think she felt like we were living in a cemetery.”
“And you?”
“I didn’t mind it, but I was willing to do whatever would ease her grief.” I handed him his glass, our fingers brushing briefly. “With the money we got, I was able to pay off my parents’ debts, make this apartment livable, and put aside a little bit for Maya’s college fund, too. And no, Iwon’tput that money toward the business, no matter how badly we need it,” I added, just in case Adrian wanted to make any of the same arguments Maya had made when I’d told her about the money. “It’s for her future. Our parents would have wanted it that way.”
Adrian set down his wine without taking a sip. “That’s… god, Maddox. That’s incredible.” He stepped closer, his eyes intent. “You gave up your childhood home to secure her future. That’s huge.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “She’s all the family I’ve got left. Anyone would?—”
“Not everyone would,” Adrian interrupted gently. “Trust me on that.”
Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. There was a shadow in his expression, a hint of old hurt that made me want to pull him closer and demand names of whoever had failed to take care of him the way he deserved.
Instead, I reached up to touch his face, my thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “Talk to me,” I said gently, afraid of asking too much, too soon. “Tell me more about your family. You started to tell me the other night, but somehow, we got to talking about mine instead.”
He shrugged and smiled. “That might have been deliberate.”
“I figured. And I’m not falling for it a second time.” I nodded atthe sofa and handed him back his glass of wine. As he passed the window, he glanced out at the square again.
“It’s weird how quiet it gets here at night.”
