“Yeah.” I swallow. “Tobias said he used to be a photographer. Like… before everything. So I asked Mom if he could use them. She said they were somewhere down here.”
Something warm flickers across Ivy’s face. “That’s… wow. That’s really thoughtful, Ro.”
“Thanks.” I nudge the record box with my foot. “Help me find them, and I’ll haul these up for you.”
She beams. “Deal.”
10
TOBIAS
The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle like tiny fireflies caught in a dance. I’m sitting on the floor, my back against the couch, close enough to feel the faint warmth from the lights. It’s become my favorite spot in the house—like the world pauses here and none of the terrible things can reach me. The smell of pine and cinnamon makes my chest ache in the best way.
I don’t realize Rowen is in front of me until his shadow stretches across the floor. When I look up, he’s holding something behind his back. Ivy lowers herself into the chair beside me, her knee bumping my shoulder. Jasmine sits across from me, arms folded loosely on her knees. The way she watches me makes my pulse pick up, like she’s waiting for something.
I sit up, alarmed. “Did I do something?”
Rowen sits down across from me, cross-legged. His expression is soft and unreadable, dark hair tousled. When he smiles at me, it makes my belly squirm.
The man is beautiful.
“This is for you,” he says.
He slides two bags across the deep red rug. Each one worn and faded, the canvas rubbed thin in a few places. They look well-loved. Used. Even cherished.
Ivy squirms, hiding her excitement behind her hand.
I blink at them. “What—?”
“Open them.”
My fingers shake as I unzip the first bag… and my jaw drops. The scent of dust and earth swirls up from within, and I struggle to breathe. I stare at the contents, dumbfounded.
Inside are three Nikon cameras of various ages, each made of quality glass and metal. Two of the cameras are 35mm film, and they look ancient yet dependable. The third is a newer digital model that looks barely touched.
I know that one well. It’s a sister model of what mine used to be.
My throat closes as I pick it up, turning the knob on the top. The screen powers on, revealing various settings before switching to a photo of a bird.
“What…” I try, but my words fail me.
Along with the cameras are eight lenses, nestled between worn padded dividers, a padded case of filters for the lenses, and an assortment of cords and battery packs. Everything an avid photographer needs.
“What is this?” I finally say.
Rowen shoves the bags a little closer to me. “They’re yours now.”
I gape at him. “Wh-what?”
He smiles at me. “We want you to have them.”
Something tickles my cheek, and I wipe at it, stunned to see I’m crying. “Shit.” I slam my eyes shut, lip trembling.
For a long, terrible moment, I can’t speak. I clutch the cameras to my chest like they might disappear.
Rowen’s voice is barely a whisper. “Fuck. I messed up, didn’t I?”
I shake my head hard. “No. Gods, no.” My voice cracks. “I just—how did you know?”
