Mykitchen.
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until it rushes out, sharp and shaky.
Tears blur my vision.
Not just grief, though there is some of that. For the woman I never met. For the relationship we never had.
But gratitude too.
Gratitude for a woman who reached across silence to give me something of my own.
Gratitude that she saw me. Believed in me.
I press my hands to the counter and let the feeling anchor itself in my chest.
This is yours now.
I wipe my eyes and square my shoulders. “Okay,” I whisper. “You can do this.”
Then I laugh, soft and shaky, because maybe I was born for this.
I move through the swinging door to explore the rest. A narrow hallway extends from the kitchen, leading to a small room in the back with a simple twin bed, a built-in wardrobe, and a tiny adjoining bathroom with a shower and pedestal sink. It’s plain but clean. Lived in but waiting for me.
A quiet place to sleep. To breathe. To start over.
I return to the front, ready to grab another box from the car.
But I stop cold.
Outside the window, the man from before is walking back to his truck. He tosses the shovel into the bed, wipes his brow with the back of a gloved hand, and reaches for the door.
Then he turns.
Our eyes meet through the glass.
He freezes. So do I.
Up close, he’s sharper. Rougher. Square jaw dusted with stubble. Dark hair cropped short on the sides, longer on top. His nose looks like it’s been broken before.
But his eyes…
Gray. Cold and bright, like polished silver. The kind of eyes that see too much too fast.
Heat spikes low in my belly before I can stop it. A rush of warmth at the base of my spine. My breath catches. My pulse jumps. My body reacts before my brain can tell it to behave, and I hate how immediate it is.
I raise a hand in a small wave, my fingers trembling.
He doesn’t wave back.
Just a simple nod. Like he’s already made up his mind about me.
Then he climbs into his truck and pulls away.
The silence he leaves behind hums louder than it should.
I press my hand to my chest.
“Grumpyandgorgeous,” I whisper. “Of course.”
