Told myself I was better off.
And then the years kept coming, and it got easier to believe the lie—until it wasn’t even a lie anymore.
It was just regret.
Something old and worn-out I shoved into the back of my mind along with other mistakes.
Except now,standing here in this attic, with the ghosts of who we were swirling around me, I’d give anything to go back to that day.
Back to her.
Back to us.
Back to the real music.To the moment before I broke everything.
My throat tightens, and I drag a hand through my hair.
What the hell am I doing here?
Renovating a house?
Chasing memories?
No.
No, that’s not it.
I’m here because, for the first time in almost two decades, the music is whispering again.And I know what that means.
It means the thing I’ve been running from—the person I’ve been running from—is close.
Adrianna Bosco is somewhere in this town.
And whether or not she wants to see me, I’m not leaving without trying to make things right.
And I’m starting with this house and Grandma’s furniture.
It deserves the effort.A personal touch.
I park outside the hardware store and kill the engine.
Someday, maybe the house will hold more than just me again.
Something precious.
Someone precious.
The thought hits out of nowhere and lodges itself deep.I shake my head, shove my hands into my pockets, and step into the cold.
First things first.
Fix the house.
Fix the mess.
Fix me if I can.
Then maybe—I’ll start figuring out the rest.
