A life full of ordinary, beautiful things.
Warmth fluttered across my chest, and my eyes flew open. I swallowed hard as the stark realization washed over me.
I was head over heels in love with Austin Calloway.
I needed air.I needed space. I needed to walk off the sharp, tangled knot of emotions sitting square in my rib cage. The air inside the carriage house had grown heavy, thick with the scent of other people’s memories. I sat there for longer than I meant to, staring at the photo on my screen—at Alma’s hollowed-out eyes and the shadowed figure looming behind her—until the edges of the image blurred and my chest felt too tight to take a full breath.
I pushed away from the desk, the chair legs scraping against the worn wooden floor. My body hummed with a restless energy I couldn’t seem to shake.
Grabbing my coat from the hook by the door, I stepped outside into the crisp autumn air.
The town was quiet at this time of day. A few cars passed lazily along Main Street, their tires whispering over damp pavement. Porch pumpkins were freshly carved, their grinning faces smiling back in the cool October air. The scent of woodsmoke drifted from somewhere nearby, curling with thesweet, earthy tang of fallen leaves. I tugged my coat tighter, the wool brushing my chin as I tucked it in, and let my boots carry me toward the heart of town.
Each step felt unsteady—not because of the cracked sidewalks, but because of the truth I’d finally let myself name.
I was in love with Austin Calloway.
The words settled in my chest like a stone tossed into still water, rippling outward until I felt them everywhere—in the curl of my fingers, the hitch of my breath, the quickened beat of my heart.
It felt too big, too heavy, too dangerous. Like it couldn’t possibly belong to me.
But then?—
Maybe it could.
For the first time in a very long time, the thought didn’t send me into a tailspin. It wasn’t panic that clutched at me—it was something else. Something lighter.
In town, I passed Mrs. Donnelly sweeping her stoop, the clatter of her broom bristles sharp against the wooden steps. She paused when she saw me, her gaze warming in that small-town way people had—like they knew something you didn’t.
“Morning, Selene,” she said, leaning on the broom handle. “Saw Austin walking Winnie to school earlier. Looked like he was made for it, the way she was chattering away to him.”
A swell of emotion caught me off guard. I smiled softly. “She tends to do that.”
Her eyes crinkled. “Well, it’s nice to see her with someone so patient. And the way he carries her backpack?” She pressed a hand to her chest, practically swooning. “You’d think he’d been doing it all her life.”
I nodded, my throat thick. “Yeah.”
Mrs. Donnelly tilted her head, watching me a little too closely. “You look happy, Selene. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Good for you, honey.”
I murmured a thank-you and continued walking, my boots crunching over a scatter of brittle leaves.
By the time I reached Bay Street, my thoughts had looped back again. Austin with sparkly purple nails, holding his hands up to Winnie as if she’d just given him the finest manicure in the state. Her laughter was so full and unrestrained it had filled the whole kitchen. The gentle kiss he’d pressed to the top of my head before leaving, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I wasn’t supposed to want this.
But there it was—lodged like a splinter in my chest, tender and impossible to ignore.
Movement across the street caught my eye. A house. Mid-renovation.
The old place had been sitting empty for years, its porch sagging, shutters hanging crooked like tired eyelids. But now it was alive again. Fresh siding stacked in neat piles. A crew moving in and out with purposeful energy.
My eyes snagged on the sign planted in the yard:Wes Vaughn Construction.
A familiar ache tugged at me. Wes. It had been months since the accident. Months since he’d been the easygoing guy everyone called when something needed fixing. I hadn’t seen him out in public once.
Cal and Austin had both mentioned he wasn’t doing well. I hadn’t asked for details—I didn’t have to.
Then my gaze drifted to the porch. It wasn’t much yet—just bare boards and skeletal framing—but something about it pulled at me.
