The last time I set foot in this house was the night my life ended. My body remembers—the fear, the shame, the weight of Cade’s rejection pressing down like a boot on my chest, just as much as Landon forcing….
“I can’t,” I whisper.
Cade steps in close, but he doesn’t touch me.
“You can,” he assures me, voice low, firm. “It’s not the same house anymore, Sarah. I gutted it. Changed everything. You walk in there now, you’ll see Evie’s art taped to the fridge, toys scattered on the floor, and quilts Tillie stitched by hand. You won’t find a trace of that night. Not one.”
I shake my head, my breath ragged. “You don’t know?—”
“I do.” His eyes hold mine, firm as the Elk Mountains behind us. “Fear’s like wildfire. If you don’t face it, itkeeps spreadin’. Come inside with me. See what this place is now.”
My knees feel wobbly. I reach out for his hand, which he holds tight, and I set a foot inside the house I used to think of as a second home.
Inside, he’s right.
The walls don’t carry ghosts—they carry family. Evie’s drawings are everywhere, sunbursts of color. A pair of boots too small for Cade sits by the door—pink glitter caked with mud.
The last time I set foot in here, the walls seemed to press in, stained with shadows I could never scrub away. But now…there’s light. Wide windows dressed with simple linen curtains, sunlight spilling across a worn leather sofa that looks like it’s been broken in by laughter and naps, not secrets.
The walls are painted a warm cream, photographs of Evie everywhere: her missing-teeth smile, her first day at kindergarten, her perched on Rooster’s back with Cade holding her—a life I’d never been allowed to imagine for myself.
There are toys tucked into baskets by the hearth, crayons scattered across the dining table, and a stack of Evie’s picture books by the armchair. Family things. Safe things. This home is warm, lived-in. No remnants. No shadows. It’s not the house I left. It’s not the house that broke me. It’s Cade’s house now—Cade and Evie’s. And, for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m suffocating.
My throat tightens, not from fear butfrom relief.
“This is….” My voice shakes. “This is your home. Your family’s home.”
“Our home,” he corrects softly.
I swallow hard. “Cade, I…I can’t.”
His brow furrows. “I know.”
I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. “Will you really be okay when I destroy the image of your role model? Will you believe me or him?”
Cade’s jaw works, but his eyes don’t harden like I expect. Instead, he steps closer, takes my trembling hands in his. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I wish I could take his word for it, but…I can’t. “That would mean betraying your brother. Your family.”
“No.” There’s a hollow ache in his eyes when he looks at me. “It means standing by what’s right. Standing with the woman I love.”
Heat floods me, unexpected and terrifying. But the warmth can’t hold against the weight I carry. I pull my hands back, wrapping my arms around myself.
“You can’t…you can’t say such things.”
“I can’t tell you the truth?” he asks cockily, and I remember the boy he used to be. I rub my temple and shake my head.
“The truth is irrelevant.” I walk into the living room and touch a colorful quilt. I lean down and pick up a picture book about ranch animals and smile as I flip through the pages.
“The truth is the only thing that matters, Dove.”
I set the book back down on the coffee table. “Does it?” I askflippantly.
Pain etches deep lines across his features. “It’s always mattered, even when I didn’t accept it.”
I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “I’m too broken, Cade. I’ve tried to move on, but I haven’t had any real relationships. Not ones that last. I can’t commit. I can’t trust. Not the way someone deserves.”
“Then I’ll teach you to trust again.”
