I laugh, a little breathless, pressing my forehead to hers for a second. “Of course you did.”
She pulls back enough to look at the damage, eyes widening. “Okay. Wow. This is… worse than I imagined.” Then she looks back at me, all business. “What do you need?”
Before I can answer, Colson steps closer. “Hey,” he greets, offering his hand. “I’m Colson.”
Maren glances at his hand, then up at his face, a brow arching. “Oh, I know,” she replies easily, shaking it anyway. “I’m in a fantasy basketball league. And Sadie does not bring justanyonearound the camp kids.”
I groan. “Maren.”
She grins, already grabbing a broom. “Relax. I approve.”
Colson laughs and asks, “Am I on your team?”
Maren grimaces when she answers, “You were last season. That’s when I won the championship. But, someone stole you in this year’s draft before I could get my hands on you.” She mimics grabbing something.
Colson crosses his arms, nodding. “Well, happy to hear I could lead you to victory.”
The way the two of them bounce off each other, it’s a nice change of pace, but definitely wish it was in better circumstances.
“Now—where do we start?” Maren asks, rolling out her neck and shoulders, like she’s ready.
Colson’s mouth twitches and we get back to work. The building still groans, the damage still stares back at me, and nothing about this is solved. But Maren is here. Colson is here. The weight doesn’t disappear—but it shifts, spreads out, and becomes something I can actually carry.
twenty-nine
Colson
Peoplekeepshowingup.Maren was here for a few minutes and it was clear she immediately started gathering the troops. There are probably ten locals busting their asses to get all the debris cleared, mopping floors or drying walls. Massive fans have been rolled in, trying to dry out as much as we can.
Everyone’s trying to be positive and encouraging but this place is a mess. Broken windows. The roof. Water damage we probably can’t see. Sadie is doing her best to stay solution oriented. Fuck, that makes me proud of her.
She has these bursts of energy. Hope. But then it topples when something we didn’t foresee becomes an issue. Her and I have our hands on the antique cabinet—the one I helped bring in during my first few days there.
We count down and lift at the same time. I’m walking backwards when I say, “If you want, we can go thrifting or something. Try and find something old and creaky. Just like this one.”
Sadie offers a loaded but sad smile. “Colson Burke likes to thrift, huh?”
“My mom used to go a lot when I was a kid. That’s how we got most of our things. Single parent stuff.”
Sadie nods, taking in the details I’m offering.
She doesn’t keep the conversation going; instead we walk the cabinet outside to the place we’ve designated as trash. Things that are unsalvageable.
Birdie, one of the only people I recognize besides Maren, taps Sadie on the shoulder.
“I called about the windows. My brother had an in, so we have those measured and ordered.”
“How much are they?” Panic creeps around Sadie’s question.
Birdie says nothing, just looks over to me. I made it a point to let everyone know I would handle anything financial related. There wasn’t much that we moved on today, but windows are kind of a must for the center to be able to be open to the public.
Sadie realizes what’s happening and gently nods.
Birdie looks at her watch. “I had someone getting my opening stuff done at Cherry Pit but I gotta get over there, okay?”
Sadie and Birdie hug, saying their goodbyes, and you can feel the local business owners are kind of on Birdie’s timeline. In a tourist town, weekends like the Fourth of July are massive. They’ve given what they can and need to get back.
It’s amazing how quick people learned of Sadie needing help. How many people came and gave a few hours of their time without question. Golden Harbor seems to show up for their locals.
