I gave her a pointed look. “Friends. Benefits. All good. Can we not turn this into a therapy session?”
Rio looked at Eve, who was now leaning against the counter. “Is that code for it’snotnot working, but it’s complicated?” Rio asked.
Eve pressed her lips together and looked back at her in aplease don’t get me in the crossfire.
I rolled my eyes. “Everything’s complicated. The plumbing’s complicated. My week’s complicated. Eating healthy is complicated.”
Evangeline tilted her head gently, her embarrassed look turned soft. “It’s okay if things are shifting,” she said, her voice quiet.
She was too sweet. I didn’t answer, just tipped my glass toward her in a half-toast and downed the last sip. I didn’t want to delve into the fact that “things shifting” was a red flag for me. I’d built a life with low emotional cost, and my rules gave me a clear, low-risk, predictable frame that protected my peace of mind.
And heart.
We didn’t talk about Sebastian again. We shifted to other things—local gossip, Walter’s antics—Owen’s grandfather supplied those in abundance—and the last time Daphne scared off a guy she dated because he asked too many questions about her gun.
Eventually, Rio and Evangeline left, each hugging me tight before stepping out into the cool night.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Rio said. “I just ...”
“I know. You didn’t,” I said quickly. “Don’t worry. And I’m sorry if I snapped. I think this whole mess is getting to me more than I realized.”
She looked like she had more to say, but just pulled me into another hug instead.
I tidied up, tucked the lavender bundle on my bedside table, then changed and slid under the sheets.
The house was quiet. My limbs heavy. And the scent on my pillow wasn’t mine.
I turned onto my side and inhaled the trace of someone who got it right, even when I didn’t know what to ask for.
It was a long day. Nothing else.
That was all.
10
Sebastian
I TILTED MY PHONE AWAYfrom the afternoon sun streaming in through my office window. Ruby’s message sat open, the latest in a string of photo updates from Coral Bay.
I’d texted to ask about the progress since the last update, and she sent one wide shot of the cabins in scaffolding, a close-up of exposed beams, and now a blurry snap of a hand-drawn sketch with the caption:“This is what their structural guy wants to do for the main house.”
I zoomed in, angling the phone.
No scale, no proper notations. And ... was that a load-bearing post rerouted?
“Great progress on the cabins,”I texted back.“But can you ask Dave what size supports they’re planning to use, especially for the north corner? Also what grade the anchor bolts are.”
A few seconds later, a thumbs-up bubble bounced back.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my neck.
I swiped back to one of Ruby’s earlier pics—a selfie she’d taken in front of a nearly finished cabin. Most of the frame was the structure behind her, but I could still see part ofher in yoga pants and an oversized tee. Her smile was half-exhausted, half-defiant. Gorgeous. Familiar.
I could trace the girl she once was—the one she’d tried to leave behind—under the current head-turning version of her. But shewasa part of her. Just like the overweight kid with a collection of action figures lived somewhere in me.
Plus, I still had that collection, and these days, some of them were worth a fortune on eBay.
We hadn’t really talked since the morning I left. That was normal—we rarely spoke between visits. What wasn’t normal was the way she’d curled into me that night. Slept with me. Just slept. How natural it felt. Somehow, it left a deeper mark than anything else, and I still carried it.
