This house, Aiden, and the chaos.
I’d forgotten how beautiful their family home is, full of rich wooden tones and character you can’t buy at a home improvement store. I move forward and then remember my coat and boots. I toe them off so I don’t track snow across the hand-scraped floors.
I shrug out of my coat, and Aiden takes it and hangs it by the door. He sets my tote beneath the hooks, then glances at the porch. “Want me to grab the other bags?”
“Please?” I nod, and he’s gone and back again before I finish the thought. He sets everything in the entry, then moves forward.
“Come on, quick tour.” He taps the worn banister as we pass, his lazy cadence comforting. “Spare rooms are upstairs, along with a couple of bathrooms. There’s a mudroom on the other side of the kitchen, a pantry behind it, and a utility room in that vicinity. My room is in that corner of the house, off the living room. That hall is Owen’s room. Evie’s is the one with the plant that refuses to die.” We end in the living room, filled with overstuffed couches and blankets, and he pauses, kindness edging his voice. “You’re welcome anywhere, both of you. The house is yours.”
“It was yours first,” I tell him.
“Maybe. But I always wanted you to end up here with me. We just took the scenic route,” he murmurs.
My brain scrambles. I don’t know how to respond to him.
“But,” he adds. “Do me a favor and skip the last door in the upstairs hall for now. I’m still… sorting some things.”
He doesn’t need to tell me what’s hidden behind that door. Grief is etched all over his face, and it deserves privacy. I haven’t earned the keys yet.
But if I’m living here, I want to be there when he unlocks it. And as he works through whatever ghosts exist behind it.
“Whatever you need,” I tell him. “I’ll tell Phoebe it’s off-limits.”
He gives me a grateful half-smile.
“I mean it, though, Chloe. Everything else is yours. Kitchen, laundry, back porch—treat it like it’s home. It is now.”
I pause to really take in the space. The natural aesthetic makes my heart flip. I remember how it looked when Christmas spilled from top to bottom, and sadness pinches that it stands bare now. The warmth and colliding textures have me practically drooling, and it needs a dose of holiday spirit.
Desperately.
But it’s not fair to push him into something he’s not ready for, so we need to strive for balance.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up today,” he says, breaking the silence. To be honest, I botched all of that pretty badly.”
I glance at him. “You didn’t botch it as badly as you think. There’s just a lot to consider. And we’ve got some ground rules to cover.”
“Rules?” His eyebrows lift.
“Rules. Non-negotiables. Whatever you want to name them.”
The sun peaks out from behind a cloud, bathing the farm in bright winter light. Leftover snow from the last dusting winks, like diamonds dotting the fields. I could almost cry over the size of the windows, as if the landscape beyond were a framed painting.
I’ve spent years in small spaces with tiny views. Here, the tree farm sprawls to the left while the Rockies rise behind everything. Light pours in like magic. I press a hand to my chest as I picture how it looks as the sun rises, pouring its golden rays onto the rich tones of the wood.
The house alone makes me want to screamyes.
“I forgot how beautiful this house is,” I say softly. “This light.”
Focus, Chloe.
“It’s fascinating to watch you take things in,” he murmurs.
“What?” I blink. “Why?”
He stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, bemused. “You make me see what I stop noticing. You’ve been here before, but you’re seeing it with new eyes. It makes me feel like I should do the same.”
I blush. “It does?”
