“And lasted…what, all of ten seconds? You were just a horndog,” Beck corrected.
“Says the man who lost his virginity to a?—“
“Shut it! We’re not talking about Gloria,” Beck cut in.
Thanks to the levity, Seth’s grip on Heavenly’s hand had loosened, his breathing smoothed out. The joke had done its job. By the time the Uber pulled up in front of a modest ranch-style house with cream siding and hunter green shutters, Seth looked…not calm exactly, but steadier.
Seth climbed out, then extended his hand to her. She took it and eased from the back seat as his gaze swept the empty driveway before lifting to the house.
His mood turned somber again as he pulled the keys from his pocket. “Guess…the Realtor’s not here yet.”
Heavenly hoped he didn’t have to wait long. He hadn’t even walked inside yet, but she already feared he was holding himself together by a thread. No surprise. This place held wonderful, terrible memories.
She pressed close, doing her best to provide silent comfort as he unlocked the front door. Once he pushed it open, he glanced down at her, lips curled up woodenly in an attempt to convince her that he was okay. But she knew him too well.
With a sweep of his hand, he gestured her and Beck inside. His fake smile gave way to something grim and stoic that twisted her heart.
God, this was killing him.
Stomach knotting, Heavenly stepped into the house.
One glance, her chest threatened to buckle.
Afternoon light streamed through the windows, illuminating a living room that felt frozen in time. Haunted. Like it was ready for the return of the family that would never step foot inside again. A sectional butted against one soft beige wall, its cushions still plump, as if ready for someone to sit down at any moment. Built-in bookcases flanked a brick fireplace. Family photos lined one wall, their subjects captured in a long-gone moment of normalcy.
This house had once been his home, where the people he’d loved had once lived, watched TV, and slept. Where they’d made breakfast and argued about whose turn it was to take out the trash. Where a baby had cried at two a.m. and exhausted parents had soothed him.
Where they’d planned for a future that had never come.
And now, they were all dead…except Seth. He stood here in the present, tormented by his past and rattled by the unwritten future.
Framed photos on the wall of the adjacent hallway drew Heavenly’s attention. She shuffled to them slowly, her gaze catching the first image of an impossibly young Seth on his wedding day. He stood beside an even younger brunette with soft doe eyes, wearing a lacy white dress. Autumn. They smiled, looking like barely more than kids, convinced that love alone was enough.
Something in Autumn’s posture looked not only submissive but fragile. Seth hadn’t spoken much about their marriage, but the woman had been almost dependent on him. Had that played a role in their strain?
The next picture ripped the breath from Heavenly’s lungs. Autumn in a hospital bed, exhausted but glowing, cradling a tiny newborn against her chest. Seth leaned over them, pressing a kiss to the baby’s downy head like a proud father. The look on his face—raw vulnerability mixed with the unguarded joy of a man who believed his world was complete.
Heavenly’s throat closed up. Her vision blurred. She blinked against the tears, but they came spilling down.
The Seth in that photo had been convinced their tomorrows were guaranteed. That he’d watch his son grow to a man, that he’d grow old with his wife.
She turned to study Seth. This version of him was wary and haunted. He was afraid to believe in the future.
And she understood precisely why now—not in a purely academic way, like, of course losing his family had been catastrophic. As she stood amid the rubble of his former life, understanding came with all the subtlety of a punch to the gut.
She swallowed back tears and pressed on.
Hanging to the left was a professional portrait of the three Coopers, maybe two months after Tristan’s birth. They all wore white shirts and khakis, smiling against the soft-focus background. They looked like any young family—tired, happy, and convinced they had all the time in the world.
Instead, that world had crashed down less than thirty days later.
Heavenly bit her lip to hold in a sob, but it was no use. Her chest buckled. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to breathe.
But the sadness pressed in from every direction, threatening to crush her.
In the living room, she saw neatly arranged baskets of toys—wooden blocks, plastic keys, a stuffed giraffe. A pristine bassinet crouched beside the couch, its white eyelet fabric yellowing with years gone by.
She imagined Seth coming home after a long shift, tie loosened, scooping up his cooing son from his bouncy seat and inhaling his milky-sweet scent. She pictured it so clearly, the vision hurt. Autumn had probably smiled from the kitchen before they’d shared dinner, bath time, then a lullaby. The boring, precious rhythms of family life.
