Chapter Thirty-Four
Nora
The bedroom of the house we’d decided on smelled of old plaster dust and lemon cleaner.
Afternoon light poured through the single tall window, catching every floating mote of wallpaper fiber we’d already scraped free.
Strips of faded roses—once cheerful, now brittle and sad—curled on the floorboards like fallen petals.
We could have paid to have someone do this for us, but we wanted to build something together.
Evan stood on the stepladder, a steam plate in one hand and a wide putty knife in the other, methodically coaxing another stubborn section of the past away from the wall.
I sat cross-legged on the drop cloth below him, armed with a spray bottle of vinegar water and a smaller scraper.
My arms ached in that good, honest way that meant progress.
“Zion stopped by yesterday,” I said, wiping a smudge of grit from my temple with the back of my wrist. “He told me—for the third time—that we’re insane. He said he could have this room finished in two hours if we’d hired professionals.”
Evan snorted, his focus never wavering from the wall. “Zion also thinks pineapple belongs on pizza. His judgment is officially suspect.”
I grinned. “He offered to bring a crew over tomorrow anyway. Said he’d do it for free, just because he pities us.”
“Tell him thanks, but no thanks.” Evan eased a long strip free; it came away in one beautiful, continuous piece, revealing the pale, unscarred plaster beneath. “We’ve got this, Nora.”
We did. Not because we were skilled at interior demolition, but because neither of us wanted it finished fast. The slowness felt deliberate, almost sacred. Every inch we uncovered together was an inch we claimed for ourselves—a stark contrast to the polished, impatient houses we’d both grown up in.
I set my scraper down and leaned back on my hands, watching the muscles in his forearms flex as he worked.
“I love Mabel’s,” I said quietly. “Like . . . really love it. The early mornings when it’s just me and the ovens, but mostly the afternoons.
The way the kids come in after school and spread out at the big table with their laptops.
I’ve started staying late to help them with their essays, and Palila pretends she’s annoyed when they ask for help with trig, even though she stays right there with me every single time.
I think Palila changed her mind about leaving. ”
Evan glanced down, his dark eyes softening with a look that made my breath hitch. “You’re good with people, Nora. You give them a place to land. I see the way you look when you talk about their progress.”
“I’m learning that it’s what I want to do,” I said, picking at a flake of old paste on my jeans.
“But that tutoring? The fact that I realized it was possible? That only exists because of you. Back when we were kids . . . you dragging Bennet and Dorry and half the valley kids into Mabel’s kitchen to do homework while you pretended you were only there for the cookies.
You made it safe for them to try. I never forgot that. ”
Evan went still on the ladder. The steamer hissed softly in his hand, a small cloud of white vapor rising between us.
“I saw you,” I continued. “Even when I was too young to fully understand. You weren’t just hanging out. You were making sure they had someone who expected them to show up. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately—how much of what I’m doing now is following the map you drew when I was six.”
Evan exhaled through his nose, a long, slow release of tension.
He set the steamer on the top step and climbed down, his movements careful, as if he needed a second to find his footing on level ground.
He crouched in front of me until we were eye level.
“I’ve learned every bit as much from you as you claim you’ve learned from me. ”
That made me smile and remember something. “Are you aware that your father’s been quietly funding most of those scholarships the kids in town receive?” I asked.
His brows snapped together. “No. I didn’t.”
“Gabe’s been doing it for years,” I said.
“Making sure the account never runs dry. No questions asked, no paperwork that would embarrass a family in a tight spot. Bella told me. She said your dad never wanted the credit; he just wanted the kids to have a shot because of how hard you pushed for it before you left.”
Evan looked away, his jaw working. “He never said a word to me. Not one.”
“I know.” I reached out, brushing a smudge of plaster dust off his cheekbone with my thumb. “But that side of him exists, Evan. There’s good in him.”
Evan swallowed hard. “I’ve spent so long telling myself I didn’t want to be like him. But sometimes I wonder if I even know him.”
I nodded. “I’ve done the same with Dad. I keep waiting for the version of him that isn’t angry or afraid. But the truth is, that may always be a part of him. And if we want to build a bridge, we have to stop pretending only one side of the valley exists.”
He studied me for a long beat, his gaze intense. “You remember that night? After the mountain? When you told your father there was only one way he could lose you?”
My stomach tightened. We were finally there. The last secret. “Yeah,” I whispered.
“I didn’t ask you what it was.” His voice was gentle, but I could hear the ache of the outsider in it. “But can you tell me now?”
I looked down at my hands, my voice barely a murmur.
“He was going after Holliston Global. Quietly. He found evidence that your father had forged financials to sabotage him and he was going to expose him for it. I overheard him on the phone right before you came back. I wanted to tell you, but I also didn’t want it to be real. ”
Evan was quiet for so long I started to panic.
Then he reached out and took both of my hands in his.
“I spent years thinking the best thing I could do for you was stay out of your way,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I told myself I was being noble by keeping my mess away from you. And now I see that you’ve been doing the same thing for me. ”
“I was also afraid it might change how you see me.”
“That will never happen.”
I waited, letting the silence hold us.
“But I understand. I was afraid I didn’t deserve you.
I watched my father and worried I couldn’t do better than he did.
My mother loved him,” he said quietly. “But he never made her happy. He made her feel small whenever people questioned her place in his world. His attention was always on the next fight, the next win, this endless, stupid war. When she finally left . . . she lit up. It was like someone turned the lights back on inside her.” He met my eyes, his gaze raw.
“I was terrified I’d do that to you. Afraid I’d be the one to dim your light. ”
My throat closed. “My mother was lonely here, Evan. She loved us, but she had to ride out to Evie’s to find a place where she could be real without being told she was ungrateful.
I don’t want to be her, and I know you don’t want to be Gabe.
But look at us.” I gestured to our dusty clothes and the ruined wallpaper.
“I don’t have to ride into the woods to find a sanctuary and you’ve always made me feel treasured.
Even when you were trying to make sure people accepted me as Brady’s girlfriend. We’re not our parents.”
Evan pulled me into him so fast I gasped. His arms locked around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as if I were the most precious thing he’d ever held. His whole body shuddered—one hard, violent release of a decade’s worth of fear.
We stayed like that for a long time, breathing together in the beauty of the life we were choosing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rumble against my hair. “Bella’s going back to New York part-time. Drew’s talking about them splitting their time between there and Boston. What do you want, Nora? For us?”
I pulled back to see his face. “Are you asking if I’ll resent you for wanting more than this valley?”
“I’m asking if I can be the man you need and still want the world outside.”
I smiled—small, certain, and full of the “sunshine” he’d been so afraid to lose. “I think we can have both. I want Mabel’s and the tutoring—I want to see those kids succeed. But I want to see the places you’ve been too. I’ve always wanted to go where you go.”
His eyes searched mine, hope finally taking root. “So we make our own map?”
“Together,” I promised.
He kissed me then—slow, deep, and tasting of dust and a relief so profound it felt like a new beginning. When he drew back, his forehead rested against mine.
“I want the next part of my life to be with you,” he said. “Wherever it takes us. Side by side.”
I smiled against his mouth. “Deal.”
Outside, the valley stretched out, breathing relief. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied—Sunny, impatient for the day to end. Inside, the old wallpaper kept falling away in soft drifts, revealing the clean, white walls underneath.
We went back to work. Scrapers in hand. Steam rising.
Choosing each other and to do things our way.