“If you want to,” Bree said. “He’d like that.”
“Good,” her dad said. “If he’s keeping our girl in one piece, I want to shake his hand.”
Bree’s eyes burned. “He’s trying. So am I.”
“We know,” her mom said. “We just worry. It’s our hobby.”
Bree smiled, breath catching. “I’ll come back for a visit soon. Maybe after we know more about the lease and the timing. We're meeting with the mayor this morning to go over details. I can show you pictures of the warehouse.”
“Send some today,” her dad said. “I want to see this place where my daughter suddenly discovered gravity.”
“That’s not how gravity works,” Bree said reflexively.
“Art people,” he muttered to her mom. “Always nitpicking the metaphors.”
Her mom laughed, shaky but real. “We love you, Bree.”
“I love you too,” Bree said. “Tell Bryn hi for me at the cemetery. I know that’s not how it works, but… just do it.”
“We always do,” her mom said. “Call after your meeting with the mayor, okay? We want to hear.”
“I will. And I'd love for you to come here and see the place. Do you remember all the things Bryn used to say about Copper Moon?” She swallowed the knot in her throat. "She was right. It's all she said and more."
Her father's voice was gruff when he responded. "That's a good idea. That's probably why you feel you need to be there..." He took a deep breath. "She loved it so much, you can feel her there."
"I absolutely can. At every turn, I remember something she said about the area. I see and feel her everywhere here."
Her mom sobbed quietly, but she could still hear her. Her dad scoffed, "That's good. Yeah, good."
They disconnected. Bree stood there for a moment, phone pressed to her chest, letting the relief and the ache wrestle it out.
The bathroom door opened; Hank stepped out with a towel around his hips, hair damp, another towel slung over his shoulder. She appreciated, briefly and thoroughly, the way his muscles moved under his skin when he scrubbed at his hair.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
She sat on the edge of the bed. “They didn’t have a heart attack, so that’s a win. They’re worried, but they’re listening. My dad wants pictures. My mom wants to meet you.”
He smiled. “I like them already.”
“He also wants to make sure you’re not a flighty jerk.”
“Reasonable concern.”
“He didn’t use those exact words, but it was implied.”
Hank crossed the room and tipped her chin up with one finger. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Scared. Relieved. Some weird combination of both.”
“That’s usually where the good changes start,” he said. “You were brave. I’m proud of you.”
The word proud slid under her ribs and settled there. “Don’t you dare make me cry. I have a meeting with the mayor, and I don’t want to go in with puffy eyes.”
He brushed his thumb under one eye anyway. “I like your eyes,” he said. “Puffy or not.”
She rolled hers. “You’re impossible.”
“Accurate.” He paused. “We’ve got about forty minutes before we need to head out. You want breakfast, or you want me to distract your brain for a while?”
