Chapter 26
LA LA LA.
Scottie
There’s something different about being in my grandparents’ house after the cameras leave and the construction crew drives away. This sense of peace settles over me, almost making me feel like I can see myself here forever.
When I first got here, I didn’t have a plan.
Hell, I still don’t.
Do I finish fixing it up and sell it?
Do I take the money from the sale and show to buy in another town?
Or do I stay and let it become mine the way Nan said it could?
Homes aren’t built from memory. They’re built from moments.
I didn’t understand what she meant that day when we stood in the yard staring at a rusted swing.
But standing here now, I think maybe this is what she meant.
Not some lightning bolt recognition or a sudden rush of childhood memories.
Just the slow, steady layering of new ones.
The kind you choose.
Tucker flashes through my head at that thought. Things with him have become easy. In a matter of weeks, I’ve gone from pissed off that he’s the head contractor and having to fake date him, to feeling myself falling for him more and more with every day that passes.
Sometimes it knocks me off my feet, because how can a one-night stand consume my mind this much? It doesn’t feel right, but at the same time it feels like what I need—what I want.
I make my way upstairs as the golden glow of the sunset sweeps through all the open windows. The master bedroom is taped off, with a hole in the ceiling covered with plastic until tomorrow. I stand in the doorway and my eyes find the box of my grandparents’ memories sitting in the corner.
Lifting the caution tape, I duck under it and make my way toward the box.
I sink down against the wall beside it. My hands hover over the lid of the wooden box.
I’ve been trying so hard to find something that gave me a deeper connection to this house—something to make it feel like it’s mine and not just a project.
But now that I’ve found it, I’m afraid of what happens if I look even closer than I did before.
I open the box hesitantly, and staring back at me is a single photo of Mimi Millie, smiling at the camera.
And it feels like she’s smiling at me. My fingers tremble as I lift it.
I stare into her eyes through the image, as if I can see her now.
As if she’s here in this home with me. I flip it to the back of the stack, coming to the next picture.
It’s the house from years ago with flowers blooming along the porch and that old swing glider that’s now against the edge of the property line, sitting in the front grass right next to it.
Flipping again to the next one, I freeze, sucking in a sharp breath.
Because that’s me.
A little girl with messy hair sitting cross-legged on the porch floor.
I flip to the next picture. It’s me again, bundled in the same blanket I found in the crawl space, and Millie’s head is thrown back in laughter as I make a funny face at her.
Another picture.
I’m tucked into the corner of the living room, knees pulled to my chest, the blanket wrapped around my shoulders while old cartons flicker on a small box television. I had to be about three in that picture.
I keep flipping and flipping—picture after picture. So many more memories of me and her. Photos of her and my grandfather. And I don’t remember any of these moments. Despite the proof sitting in the palm of my hands, I don’t fucking remember.
I press the photos to my heart and let my head fall back against the wall behind me as tears slip down my face.
I don’t bother trying to stop them. I’m crying for the memories I didn’t know I had.
Crying for the years I didn’t ask questions.
Crying because this house didn’t just belong to her, it belonged to us.
All this time, I’ve been trying to force a connection.
But it was already here.
It was just waiting for me to look.
I sit upright, digging in my pocket for my phone. Lifting it to my ear, it rings twice before my dad answers.
“Hi, honey.”
“Dad,” I say, my voice breaking as I say it. “Why? Why did we stop coming here?”
There’s silence on the other end and he doesn’t answer.
“I found pictures,” I add quickly. “Dozens and dozens of me. Of Mimi Millie and Pop Pop. I don’t remember any of it, but I was here. A lot.”
Another long stretch of silence, and I feel anger bubbling inside of me as more tears drip down my cheeks. I close my eyes with the phone to my head and my head falls back against the wall again.
“Why?” I ask again, barely above a whisper this time.
I hear movement on the other end of the phone, a chair scraping and footsteps as the TV in the background fades away like he’s moving. And then I hear my mom’s voice. “Who is that?” she asks him, but it’s faint.
My dad lowers his voice. “We can talk about this another time, Scottie.”
“Dad.”
He exhales—heavy and hesitant. “I promise, honey. I will tell you everything.”
“Billy?” my mom asks in the background, much closer this time.
“Talk soon,” he says and then hangs up.
My grip tightens around my phone as I bring it to my lap, and without him saying it, I know. I know now it had to be Mom.
My gaze shifts to the photos still in my lap. The top one being me sitting on that rusted swing in a different outfit like it was a different day, laughing like I belonged here.
Because now, I believe I did.
I’m finally walking out of the house for the day when my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my overalls. Pulling it out, I find a string of texts from the girls.
Lily
Dinner and drinks tonight? My place?
Blair
I’m in! Griffin is headed to Seven Stools tonight to meet with an old friend.
Lily
Who?
Blair
I don’t know. He said he went to high school with him, and he’s back in town.
Poppy
I would love to, but I already made dinner and promised Sage a movie night.
Lily
Okay, Sage wins. Again.
Lily
Blair, can you find out who for me?
Blair
I’ll get right on it.
Me
Dinner and drinks sound so good after this day.
Lily
Yay!! See you in an hour.
Lily
And Blair, don’t show up without the information.
I should be exhausted. I mean, physically I am.
My body aches in places I didn’t know it could, and I know my hair smells like dust from the collapse.
But my mind refuses to slow down. Today was just too much.
From the ceiling falling on top of me, to Tucker flying off the ladder without thinking to make sure I was okay.
The way his voice changed when he said my name.
To the phone call with my dad. The intensity of it all is making me feel so much so fast.
Locking up the house, I don’t even bother going home.
Once I get to Lily’s place, I check the mirror in my car before going in.
Okay, bad idea. Maybe I should have at least taken a quick shower.
But there’s no time to second-guess because Lily is already on her porch, bouncing with excitement the way she always is.
It’s the first time I’ve been at her place, and it’s cute.
It’s on an adorable dead-end street named Waterlily Circle.
One side of the street is a few houses, spread far apart, and the other side of the road offers an insane view of Bluestone Lake.
I almost have to do a double take at how beautiful it is.
It’s almost like a secret oasis of the lake compared to the view on the drive into town.
I can definitely see why she chose to live here.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” She beams when I cross the pathway leading to her front steps. “I don’t cook often, but you’re in for a treat tonight.”
“Is it your birthday and you didn’t tell me?”
She scoffs. “Trust me, you’d know when it’s my birthday. Griffin makes a huge deal about it at Seven Stools. It passed a few months ago.”
Entering her house, the smell of sugar, cinnamon, and something warm in the oven hits me first. Lily passes me a glass of sangria almost immediately before her eyes scan my face with the kind of attention that feels like care.
“Sit,” she orders nicely. “You look like you went twelve rounds with sheetrock.”
“I kind of did.” I laugh.
“Wait, what?”
“The ceiling in the master bedroom sort of fell right on top of me today. It was way worse than I thought it would be.”
“Jesus,” Lily says with wide eyes. She reaches for my hair, fingers picking out a piece of dust that’s stuck there. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I’m definitely okay. It wasn’t as heavy as I thought it was. It was more embarrassing than anything. Because you know…” I exaggerate the word, almost rolling my eyes. “The camera got the whole thing on film.”
She sits up tall, smiling. “Well, at least you can look back when the project is finished and know you went through literal hell for the masterpiece of a room that’s to come.”
The front door opens, and Blair walks through the house as if she lives here, too, dropping her purse on the counter and settling on the couch next to me.
“Well,” Lily urges her. “Did you come with the information?”
Blair shakes her head. “He never texted me back. You know how he is with texting. And you know you’re not inviting me for dinner and drinks, only to take back the invite you sent if I show up without information.”
Lily groans, falling back on the couch.
“All he said was that it’s a friend from high school in town for the night. And said something about them catching up.”
“He had a lot of friends in high school, Blair.”
Blair shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Her eyes narrow into slits. “Is there a reason you need this information, Lily?”
“No reason.” She turns her head away from us.
“Then why do you look like you’re about to fake a phone call and leave the country?” I say to Lily.
“I do not,” Lily argues. “I just…I didn’t know Griffin was still in touch with people from high school. Besides, he said it was a friend and didn’t specify which one.”