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The house smells like coffee and toast.
Normal things.
Simple things.
For a while we just eat quietly.
It feels comfortable.
Peaceful.
Which is still a strange feeling after everything we’ve been through.
Then Boone studies me across the table.
“You’re smiling.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“That usually means you’re thinking about something.”
I take another sip of coffee.
“I am.”
“What?”
“This.”
“This?”
“The house.”
“The river.”
“Breakfast.”
“Fishing yesterday.”
I shrug slightly.
“This is the closest thing to a normal life I’ve ever had.”
Boone leans back in his chair.
“You could get used to it.”
“Maybe.”
He studies me carefully.
“You’re still deciding.”
“Yes.”
“About staying.”
