Chapter 13
Mark
Mark sat at his desk, absently flipping through case files, but his focus was shot. His thoughts kept drifting—not to depositions or motions, but to the slow transformation happening at home. The bookshelves. The finished trim. The new paint that made everything feel less like a time capsule. It was the first time in years that he walked through his house and noticed the changes instead of avoiding the memories.
And it was all because of Ethan.
“You’re in a strangely… not-miserable mood today.”
Mark glanced up to find Diana standing in his doorway, arms crossed, brows arched.
“I’m not miserable every day,” he countered.
She snorted. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England.” She stepped inside, dropping a folder onto his desk. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or will I have to start making wild assumptions?”
Mark sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I hired Ethan to do more work on the house.”
Her brows lifted. “The handyman.”
Mark nodded. “Jessica left a lot of things unfinished. She had all these notes, all these plans for the house, and I—” He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I never touched them after she died. I couldn’t. But Ethan… he sees it. He gets what she wanted. He’s using her notes to bring it all to life.”
Something in his voice must have softened because Diana’s usual snarky expression eased into something gentler. “That’s good, Mark. I think she’d like that.”
He nodded, clearing his throat. “It’s the least I can do to honor her.”
She studied him for a moment before smirking. “You sure you don’t want me to take over? I can work with Ethan directly and keep things organized for you.”
Mark shook his head. “No, I got it.” He paused, smirking. “Besides, I think he’s a little afraid of you.”
Diana grinned. “I knew I liked that young man.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah… me too.”
There was something easy about admitting that something felt good. He wasn’t just talking about Ethan’s skill with his hands, though; he was ridiculously talented. The way he saw things and spoke about Jessica’s vision made it seem like she was still there.
And, maybe most surprising, it was how easy it had been to talk to him.
Diana’s smirk turned, knowing. “I haven’t heard you talk like this in a like time. You like this young man, don’t you?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Because he’s doing great work.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, feeling mischievous. “I’m just saying—if this were high school, I’d be watching you doodle his name in the margins of your notebook.”
Mark groaned. “God, stop.”
She laughed. “No. It’s cute. You have a bromance now.”
Mark shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s not a bromance. I just… I like having someone around that I can talk to.”
Diana’s teasing softened into something more thoughtful. “I’m happy for you, Mark. It’s been a long time since you’ve let someone in.”
He didn’t respond immediately, just tapping his pen against the desk.
Let someone in.
He wasn’t sure that was true. He wasn’t letting Ethan in. But Ethan was there, regardless.
“Anyway,” Diana said, pushing off the desk, “I’ll leave you to your very professional, totally not bromance thoughts.”
Mark rolled his eyes again, but as she left, his smirk lingered.
As he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, he thought about Saturday's game, the Ducks vs. Beavers.
Football.
For years, it had been a solo event—watching the games alone, drinking a beer by himself, cheering at a screen with no one to hear him.
But maybe… maybe this year, it didn’t have to be.
He pulled out his phone, hesitating for only a moment before shooting off a text.
Mark: You free Saturday? Ducks are playing. Come over.
He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the send button.
This wasn’t a big deal.
Just football.
Just a friend.
He hit the send before he could overthink it, setting the phone down, fully expecting a delay—maybe even a polite excuse. But his phone buzzed almost immediately.
Ethan: Hell yeah! What time?
Mark laughed quietly, shaking his head at the immediate enthusiasm.
Mark: Any time before kickoff works. The game starts at 1 p.m.
Another buzz.
Ethan: Got it. Uh—question, though. Can I bring Ranger?
Mark frowned at the screen. That… wasn’t what he expected.
Another buzz.
Ethan: I usually leave him with my parents when I go out, but my parents are going to a friend’s place for dinner on Saturday, and I don’t want to leave him alone for that long.
Mark drummed his fingers against the desk, considering. He wasn’t a dog person . Never had been. Not that he disliked them, but he just never had a reason to be around them. Jessica had always wanted one, but their busy schedules never made it feasible.
And yet, when he imagined telling Ethan no —he didn’t like how that felt.
So, he made a choice.
Mark: Yeah, sure. That’s fine.
Another buzz, fast and full of gratitude.
Ethan: You’re the best. He’s well-trained, promise. You won’t even know he’s there!
Mark exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. That seemed… unlikely. But he wasn’t going to take it back now.
Mark: What do you drink?
Ethan: IPA mostly. You don’t have to get anything fancy.
Mark: Noted.
Ethan: Can I bring snacks or something?
Mark: Nah, I got it covered. Just show up.
There was a pause, then another buzz.
Ethan: Alright, alright. I’ll bring myself and my furry cop partner.
Mark smirked.
He set his phone down, but the feeling in his chest didn’t fade. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t grief.
It was… something else. Something lighter.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, but for the first time in years, his mind wasn’t preoccupied with work or spinning with court filings or strategies.
Instead, he was thinking about Saturday.
And maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to it.