He laughed, low and rough, standing from his chair. “It could be afterward.”
I raised a brow as he crossed the room, took the spatula from my hand, and set it aside. He unplugged the waffle iron, then reached for my coat—the tan one I loved—and held it out.
“No pressure,” he said. “Just something I’ve been working on that I want you to see.”
“Should it wait until after breakfast?” I asked.
He glanced up at me. “I’m too excited.”
The way he said it—soft and sure—sent a flicker of heat low in my stomach. I didn’t know where we were going, but I knew better than to say no to that look on his face.
So I stepped into my coat and followed him out the door.
I walked beside him down our street, hands tucked into the pockets of my coat. The sky was soft with clouds, pale light stretching long shadows across the sidewalk. We passed porches still scattered with half-deflated Halloween decorations—grinning ghosts with slumped shoulders, a skeleton reclining in a tipped-over wheelbarrow, and a spiderweb sagging under the weight of actual leaves.
Austin didn’t say where we were going.
He just walked beside me with that quiet smile he wore when something was brewing—half nerves, half hope.
I bumped his shoulder. “So, is this a romantic stroll or the long, winding lead-up to a murder in the woods?”
His mouth curved. “Would I lure you into the woods in broad daylight?”
I chuckled. “Yes. And you’d probably pack me snacks to keep me calm.”
“I’m thoughtful that way,” he said, nudging me with his elbow.
“You’d carry my body out gently and call the coroner yourself. Gentleman serial killer vibes.”
“Now I know where Winnie gets it.” Austin glanced at me sideways, laughing. “You’re so weird.”
“I’m just saying. If I go missing, everyone will say you were charming but suspiciously handy with power tools.” I poked his side.
He shook his head, smile twitching, and pulled me under his arm. We turned onto a smaller side street that edged toward the back of the neighborhood. The houses thinned out, newer construction sprouting between wooded patches. Gravel crunched under our boots as we veered off the sidewalk toward a lot nestled in a quiet cul-de-sac.
The structure in front of us looked familiar, though I couldn’t place why at first. Two stories, dark-blue siding with creamytrim. Still half finished—some landscaping undone, the porch railings unpainted. The windows were in, but there was no mailbox yet. A blank canvas.
I tilted my head. “I’ve seen this house before on one of my walks. It was one of Wes’s projects.”
Austin didn’t respond immediately. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a key, running his fingers along the metal.
“Yeah, well ...” he said. “It’s my project now.”
I blinked. “Wait—what?”
He didn’t look at me right away. Just stared at the house with a strange mix of reverence and nerves. “I talked to Wes and he agreed to sell it to me. I’ll be working on a few things inside whenever I get the chance.”
I stopped walking. “You’re buying it?”
He nodded.
I frowned. “So you’re moving out of the duplex?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Well ... I was kind of hoping the two of you would want to move out too.”
I turned to look at him fully. Austin’s eyes were steady, but his voice had gone tentative. Careful. Like the words were heavier than he expected.
My heart stumbled. “You—wait.What?”
