I glare at him. “That can’t be true. At least one person somewhere was better off for ignoring something.”
Nolan rolls his eyes just as another knock echoes through the house. “Go answer the door, Gracie,” he orders firmly. “Or I will.”
I sniff haughtily as I stride across the room, his eyes a tickle against my senses as he watches me. I don’t hesitate when I reach the door, yanking it open as quickly as you’d rip off a Band-Aid.
“Gracie!” Raewyn’s smile splits across her face, her eyes glittering before she lunges forward, wrapping me in a hug. “You’re back!”
“Raewyn.” I exhale heavily, wrapping my arms around her. Over her shoulder, my eyes lock with Stephen’s, his smile smaller, but his eyes just as warm as he watches us, his arms full, with a cardboard box and a duffel bag. “Stephen. It’s so good to see you both—” The words are cut off when Raewyn squeezes me with the strength of a python, my ribs groaning in protest.
“I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come home,” she mutters, and a breathless laugh escapes.
“I told you I was coming,” I remind her. “You had to let me know where the key was.”
“Raewyn isn’t known for being rational,” Stephen says dryly before tipping his chin at the load in his arms. “We bought you an air mattress, just in case you needed it.”
“And blankets and sheets,” Raewyn adds as she plants her hands on my shoulders, looking me over. After a long moment, she nods. “You look good. Better.”
“I feel better,” I reassure her. “I needed some time, but I’m good.” I step back, gesturing for them both to come inside. As the door shuts behind them, Raewyn draws up short at the sight of Nolan, her wide eyes bouncing between us.
“This is Nolan, my friend,” I introduce. “Nolan, Raewyn, and Stephen.”
Stephen moves first, setting everything down next to our bags and shaking Nolan’s proffered hand when he comes forward. After, Nolan turns to Raewyn, taking her hand and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Pleasure to meet the people who look after Gracie,” he murmurs.
Raewyn’s face flushes under his attention, and she leans into me, whispering loudly, “Is he…?”
I clear my throat. “An old friend.” I shoot Nolan a warning look when he makes a small sound, but he just blinks at me innocently. “A good friend. Nolan is staying with me for a little while.”
Stephen hums, his voice amused as he says, “Brave man. Did you know how empty the house was before you agreed?”
Nolan tucks his hands into his pockets. “Now, I’ve never been much of a camping man, but camping with a roof over my head? It doesn’t seem so bad.”
Stephen grunts. “You’ll change your tune when your back starts aching.”
Raewyn elbows him, throwing her husband a sharp look. “No one told you to buy the cheapest sleeping pad possible. Sometimes, quality matters more than saving a few bucks. And let’s not forget who didn’t even want to go camping in the first place.” Stephen rolls his eyes, the argument clearly not a new one. Raewyn turns back to me. “We have a second air mattress we can bring over for you.”
I chuckle, telling them, “I’ve missed the two of you.”
Raewyn’s eyes soften. “We missed you too.”
Stephen clears his throat gruffly, his eyes seeming overly bright before he tells me, “I’ve done a few jobs around the place. Let me show you.”
They leave a little while later, all of us carefully talking around the subject of Braxton, like if we say his name, we might accidentally summon him. I can’t avoid him forever—not when we live in the same town—and Raewyn’s made it clear that our friendship won’t change based on my relationship with her son.
I still feel at odds over the entire thing, unsure how I’ll react to seeing him again, especially after everything. I thought the last two months would have been enough to give me distance, but being back just one day has made it clear that was a fool’s hope.
“I need to talk to him.”
Nolan’s leaning back against the wall beside me, his phone in his hand. A box of pizza is lying half-eatenbetween us. He doesn’t look at me when he asks, “Braxton?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, picking at a thread on my pants. “I need to…get closure, I guess?” It comes out as more of a question, and Nolan lowers his phone, eyeing me.
“I think it would be best. You need to know if you should close this chapter in your life for good. Otherwise, you’re just trapping yourself in this weird version of purgatory, always wonderingwhy.” His voice is solemn, but he’s making sense. “Do it on your terms, Gracie. Don’t talk to him just because we’re in Sterling Creek, and you feel like you have to. You don’t need to make peace with him so thathefeels better.”
“Right,” I murmur, staring across the room. “I don’t like the paint in my bedroom.” It’s a soft canary yellow. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s not what I pictured for my room. Nolan doesn’t take his eyes off me, a soft furrow between his brows.
“So we’ll paint it,” he says easily, deciding to let me change the subject. “I’llpaint it. It’ll give me something to do.”
I give him a small smile, relieved that my first night isn’t me alone, dreaming of what moving into this house was supposed to look like—and thinking of the person missing from that dream.
