"It's real," Olivia said, more to herself than to me. She walked deeper into the space, her boots echoing on the subfloor. "It actually looks like a house now."
I stayed near the door, watching her move through the room. She trailed her fingers along the windowsill, looking out at the view, then turned back to take in the whole space.
"I can see why he wanted this," she half-whispered. "Why he thought it was worth it."
There was no bitterness in her voice.
"Yeah," I said.
She walked over to the fireplace, running her hand over the rough stone. "I haven't thought about him all day," she said suddenly. Then she looked at me, something like surprise crossing her face. "That's the first time that's happened. Since he died. I haven't thought about him once today."
The words hung in the air between us.
I should have said something easy, something that kept the distance I'd been carefully maintaining for three months. But I couldn't.
"That's good, Liv," I said quietly. "That's... that's good."
She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she walked toward me, closing the distance between us. We were standing in the middle of the room, the golden light pouring through the windows, the house settling around us with small creaks and groans.
"Thank you," she said. "For all of this. For…" She gestured vaguely at the space. "For building this. For not letting me lose everything."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I do." She was close now, close enough that I could see the sawdust still caught in her hair, the faint line of a scratch on her cheek from this morning's work. "You risked everything, Ben."
"And I’d risk it again."
"Why?"
The question cut through everything I'd been trying not to say for months.
I looked at her—at this woman who'd buried her husband and discovered his betrayal and still showed up every morning at dawn to build the house he'd left behind. Who'd learned to swing a hammer and read a level and earn the respect of men who didn't give it easily. Who'd taken off her wedding ring and stopped flinching at ghosts.
"Because you matter," I said.
We were standing too close now, the air between us charged with something I couldn't name. I could smell the sawdust and the faint scent of her shampoo, could see the way her pulse jumped in her throat.
"Ben—"
I stepped closer. Just one step, but it closed the gap between us. Her eyes went wide, but she didn't move back.
"Olivia," I said, and my voice came out rougher than I intended. "I?—"
Headlights swept across the windows.
We both froze.
I turned toward the glass, and my stomach dropped.
A sedan was pulling into the clearing. I narrowed my eyes. I’d seen that car before…
And then it hit me.
Ruth's sedan. Ryan's mother.
Chapter 27
Olivia
