Wes didn’t move.
“I want to buy it,” I said. “The whole thing. What would it take to get you to sell it to me?”
He dropped onto a stool at the kitchen counter and reached for a half-eaten protein bar. “It’s not finished,” he said, voice low and flat. “The house hasn’t been touched in months. Why would I give a shit if you take it off my hands?”
I studied him for a beat. The apathy wasn’t a performance. It hung on him like old clothes, comfortable but too heavy.
“I remember when you started it,” I said, trying to salvage our conversation. “You called it your next masterpiece.”
“Yeah, well.” He gave a dry laugh. “Turns out masterpieces don’t matter when you wake up every day wondering if you still give a damn.”
The words landed between us like dust.
I didn’t pity him—I wouldn’t do that to a man like Wes—but I felt the grief in that sentence like a bruise. Deep and dull and still healing.
I let the quiet stretch until it felt like enough.
“I’ve seen it,” I said. “The porch isn’t done, but the bones are there. I know what it could be.”
Wes didn’t look at me, but his jaw twitched. “Then finish it. Maybe you can make it something.”
I stretched out my hand to him. “Thank you.”
He gripped it fiercely and shook before letting it drop. He turned, depression hovering over his shoulders like a heavy blanket.
“Hey,” I offered. “I think some of the guys from the team are going to go up to the Lantern for a few beers. You should join us.”
His blue eyes pierced through me. His jaw ticced before he shook his head. “No, thanks, man.”
I swallowed hard. He didn’t need pity, but it was clear Wes needed people to show up for him, because he was too deep in it to show up for himself. I made a mental note to call Brody and figuresomethingout.
“Well, then, I’ll see you around,” I called to his back.
Wes didn’t bother turning around or walking me to the door. He simply raised one hand in a dismissive goodbye. I exited his house with a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me.
The drive back was quiet, the sky overcast and low like it hadn’t decided whether to rain or hold off. I rolled the window down halfway, letting the sharp cold bite at my skin while I let the hope settle in.
It scared the hell out of me.
The idea that it might not be enough. That Selene might never let me all the way back in. But that didn’t change a thing.
I was going to build it anyway.
Even if it took the rest of my life.
THIRTY-EIGHT
AUSTIN
By the timeHalloween night came around, I was crawling out of my skin. Excitement and unease warred in my chest, pulsing just beneath the surface like a second heartbeat.
I’d spent the past hour pacing the living room, pretending to eat and watch television, all while listening to Selene and Winnie through the wall. The lights were dimmed low, my boots were by the door, and the last piece of my costume hung over the kitchen chair like it was waiting for courage.
Through the wall, Selene’s voice floated in—soft and teasing.
Then came Winnie’s giggle, unmistakable and wild with energy. “I’m gonna be the grossest sea captain ever!” she announced like a battle cry.
I smiled despite the tension stringing through my chest.
