“Funerals have a way of stifling laughter,” he admits.“Haven’t had much cause lately.”
Something shifts then.Not romantic.Not safe.In fact, the tension between them has shifted into a sexual energy, one she’s trying to ignore.
Isla nods once, as if accepting that they’re both more frayed than they want to admit.
She moves toward the shelves.“Help me.”
They kneel, side by side, and Isla becomes painfully aware of how close they are again, his knee almost touching hers, his shoulder brushing hers when he reaches for a box.
She opens the first one and finds a tangle of cables.
She holds up the mess like it might bite her.“What is this?”
Callum squints.“I think that was an attempt at organized chaos.”
Isla drops it back into the box.“Ah.A family tradition.Put it in a box if you don’t know what to do with it.”
“That was Keir.The original hoarder.”
Callum laughs, really laughs, hand braced on his knee.Isla laughs too, surprised and helpless, the sound bubbling up before she can stop it.
When the laughter fades, they’re both still smiling.
Still kneeling too close.
Callum wipes his eyes.“I forgot he was ridiculous sometimes.”
Isla sobers slightly.“I never knew.”
The weight creeps back in, softer now, but it doesn’t crush.Not when laughter has cracked the seal.
They move to another box.Isla lifts the lid and recoils.
“Oh no.”
“What?”Callum asks.
She pulls out a jacket that should never have existed: sequined, shredded, aggressively eighties.
“Please tell me this is not real.”
Callum groans.“Oh God.He wore that onstage once.I remember my father giving him shit about dressing like he was Elvis.”
“Once?”Isla demands.“This thing should come with a warning label.”
“He said it ‘captured the era.’”
“It captured a crime,” Isla says.“Enough sequins to explain several questionable career choices.”
Callum bursts out laughing again, loud enough that it echoes around them.Isla laughs too, covering her mouth with her hand, shocked at herself.
For a moment, she forgets she’s locked in a room.Forgets the castle.Forgets the will.It’s just her and Callum locked together, having fun.
Then her laughter dies, and the truth slams back in.
Keir is dead.
And all she has are boxes.
