calls seventeen times.
Brooke sends one message.
You ruined me over a house.
I answer nothing.
In the morning, I make coffee in the chipped blue mug I keep here, the one Grandpa used to call “too ugly to steal.” Outside, the pines move in the wind. The cabin begins to feel like itself again.
Then Grant arrives.
Alone.
He parks at the end of the driveway and continue reading …
