Joshua’s arms tightened around his neck. “When are younot?”
Colin sat him down and kissed him again. “Welcome home, my love.” Then he released Joshua and turned.
The living room was nearly empty. No couch. No chairs. It felt new. Raw. Unlived in. The scent of new wood mingled with the faintest trace of smoke, like memory clinging to the bones of the place.
“I haven’t shopped for furniture yet,” Joshua told him. “I just couldn’t. Not without you.”
“I’m totally up for furniture shopping,” Colin told him, moving slowly, step by step, into the living room. He turned in a circle, taking everything in, still drawing in slow, careful breaths.
Joshua stood beside the door, watching him. Waiting. Breath held.
“New fireplace,” Colin noted. “I like it!” He pointed to a large cardboard box leaning against the wall. “Is that a new TV?”
“Yep,” Joshua said. “Ours bit the dust… so to speak. The new one is still boxed. I figured we’d unbox it together. You know—make it a bonding experience.”
Colin snorted. “Is this one going to come with a twenty-seven-page manual and six mystery screws?”
“One can only hope.”
Colin chuckled, then turned back toward the fireplace.
His smile faded. He stared at the mantle and pointed, his hand trembling.
Joshua followed his gaze and smiled. “Mara promised me she’d do her best with it. It’s not perfect anymore, but…”
The sculpture sat on the new mantle, the interlaced hands dulled by smoke and soot but unmistakably theirs. One side bore a faint crack, and a bit of charring edged the base. But it still shone. It was still them.
Colin stepped closer, reached out, and brushed his fingers over the familiar shape. Then, hand trembling, he touched the engraved bronze plaque on the base:“I’ll always hold you tight.”
He bowed his head, hand resting on the mantle, eyes burning. “God,” he whispered, his voice choked. “I was so afraid it wouldn’t make it.”
“Mara knew how much it meant to us.”
Colin swallowed hard. “And they saved it.”
“They did.”
He touched the statue again, his fingers slow, reverent. “Not perfect… but still beautiful.”
Joshua moved to his side. “Just like us.”
Colin nodded and bent to kiss him. “Well,oneof us isn’t perfect, that’s for sure.” He turned back to the mantle, then took a step forward, his hand reaching toward something tucked at the back. Something small. Something in an antique frame. His voice lowered to an awed whisper.“Oh, god, Josh.”
Joshua stepped closer, a tender smile touching his lips.
Colin carefully lifted the antique frame, his hands cradling it with gentle reverence. His voice trembled slightly. “It survived.”
Joshua’s heart tightened, warmth spreading through him. He’d known the photo had survived—but seeing Colin’s reaction made it real in a new, powerful way.
Colin stared down at Moishe and Chaya Friedman’s cherished faces, the glass clear, their features lovingly restored, as if untouched by the disaster. “How?—?”
Joshua gently rested his hand on Colin’s back, leaning in. “I found it after—after everything. I asked Mara to make it a priority.”
Colin’s eyes shone as he met Joshua’s gaze. “I was so afraid we’d lost them.”
Joshua pressed closer, his voice quiet but strong. “I wouldn’t let go of them.”
Colin nodded slowly, pulling Joshua into a tight embrace, holding the picture of Joshua’s great-grandparents safely between them.
