He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s for sale. Or, was.”
I blink.
He lets that settle for a second, then adds, “Been looking at it for a while. Had the realtor meet me here this morning before I picked you up.”
My heart thuds.
“You thinking of buying it?”
“I’m thinking of us.”
I stare at him.
He moves closer.
“I know we’re not out in the open yet. I know things are messy with Sam, and you’re still sorting through all of it. I get that. But this is me showing you I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks back at the house, then at me.
“I don’t want to sneak around forever, Phern. I want to build something. With you.”
I swallow hard.
The porch creaks in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, a windmill turns lazily.
“I thought it was too soon to talk about forever,” I whisper.
He steps even closer, tilts my chin up with two fingers.
“Sugar,” he says softly, “forever’s already started. You’re just finally catchin’ up to it.”
And I can’t stop the way my heart bursts in my chest. Can’t stop the smile. Or the tears.
“Can you show me inside?”
“Sure can. We own this place now.”
The front door creaks when he opens it, the kind of sound that speaks of age, of stories lived in the walls. Dust motes spin in the light streaming through the tall windows, and everything inside smells like cedar, old floorboards, and the faintest trace of fresh paint.
Will steps back to let me in first.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he says. “Needs some work.”
I cross the threshold slowly, heart thudding harder with every step.
The living room is wide open, with exposed beams overhead and a fireplace that still has soot marks in the brick. There’s a worn rug on the floor, probably left behind, and a window seat with sun-stained cushions that overlooks the front field.
“I like it,” I say softly, running my fingers over the edge of the mantle.
Will watches me. “You haven’t even seen the best part.”
He nods toward the hallway.
I follow him through a small, cozy kitchen—chipped cabinets, old tile, but the kind of layout that begs for morning pancakes and bare feet—and then down a narrow hallway with three doors.
The first is a bathroom. The second, a bedroom with peeling wallpaper and a closet door that doesn’t quite close. But it’s the third that makes me stop.
Sunlight floods in through two long windows. The walls are a soft off-white, and the hardwood floor creaks when I step inside.
