Chapter 8 #2
I took some mental notes. Water view was essential. A porch was a morning must-have. Space to expand her own garden was important, and room for Corey was critical.
She took one last look at the porch as we left, and I found longing she tried to hide.
“Thank you for your thoughts,” I said. “They’re very helpful.”
She nodded, quiet again.
She settled against me easier the second time I took flight. Less fear, more trust. My heart did a complete flip in my chest.
After a few minutes of silence, she glanced up at me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“It’s about your carving and art in France. What made you start?”
I told her about how it was after our parents died. “I needed to create something to show destruction couldn’t defeat me. To take my broken life and make it beautiful again.”
Her expression softened with understanding. “I get that. You wanted to build something good from loss.”
“What about your foster parents?” I asked carefully. “You mentioned they were kind.”
“They taught me that family is what you hold onto, not what you’re born with.” Emotion thickened her voice.
I wanted to pull her closer but couldn’t without disrupting our flight.
My tail remained around her waist, however. For safety, I told myself. One of her hands rested on my shoulder, and there wasn’t anything I craved more than that.
The sun had started to drop in the sky, light catching the red in her hair and bringing out the gold flecks in her eyes. Our faces were close when we talked.
I wanted to kiss her again. Badly.
Conversation flowed easier between us than it had. She laughed at my story about Feydin falling off a roof while trying to impress a girl when we were young.
“You have a beautiful laugh,” I said.
She blushed, ducking her head against my shoulder. But she didn’t pull away.
It felt like we were the only two people in the world.
The second property sat at the end of a long driveway, the lawn and gardens overgrown and wild. I showed off a little with my landing, touching down quickly in the yard and setting her down gently. She wobbled, grabbing my arm.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the house. “This is bigger.”
She looked uncertain, overwhelmed. Had I miscalculated?
“I know it needs work,” I said quickly, “but I wanted your opinion on the potential.” I watched her face carefully. “Sometimes the best things need restoration.”
Her eyes flicked to me. Had she caught the double meaning in my words?
Mason’s car pulled up and he got out, striding over to join us. “It’s a project, but the bones are solid.”
Sammy walked toward the porch. I couldn’t read her expression yet.
She seemed to be counting windows. Bedrooms, maybe? Then she climbed up the front steps and walked the entire wraparound porch perimeter, stopping again at the front, looking out at the overgrown yard.
“Imagine the morning coffee ritual here,” she said, her hand going to her chest. “This porch…” She didn’t finish, but her eyes had gone bright.
We left the porch and strode around the property, Sammy moving faster. She pointed at the separate workshop building set back from the main house. “That would be perfect for carving.”
“You’re right. It’s private but close to the house.”
She was evaluating it for me now, specifically. My tail swished with pleasure.
She pushed through overgrowth to follow an old garden path, not caring that she was getting dirty. “This could be spectacular.” She gestured. “I can almost see a wildflower meadow here, vegetables there, and maybe fruit trees if there’s enough room.”
“It has three acres.”
“Definitely fruit trees, then. Apples. Pears. Peaches if they’ll do okay in this climate.”
She was designing it in her mind, and I could see it happening. She talked faster and became more animated.
We entered the house through the side kitchen door.
She froze, her hand going to her mouth.
I waited, worried.
“This is…” She walked around slowly, running her hands over the old counters. Opening the pantry door, she looked inside.
“I can see an island here,” she said, gesturing, her voice thick with emotion. “A professional range there, and these windows…” She wiped her eyes. “Sorry, this is silly.”
“It isn’t silly at all.”
She was glowing, transformed. This was what she looked like when she was dreaming.
Once, I’d mocked Feydin for living in a “fixer-upper”.
Now I was walking in Feydin’s footprints.
I owed my brother another apology. I’d spent years looking down on him from my pedestal in France, only to realize the view was much better when I was standing with my feet planted in an overgrown garden.
In the large living room, she stopped in front of the fireplace. “Corey would love reading in front of the fire in the winter.” She stopped, horror widening her eyes. “Sorry, I meant—”
“No, you’re right,” I said quickly. “He would. Keep going.”
She traced the built-in bookshelves with her fingers. In the master bedroom, she stood at the French doors looking out at the porch.
“Someone could watch the sunrise from bed.” She caught herself. “You. You could.”
She peeked into the additional bedrooms. One had been painted blue.
“This could be a boy’s room. Or an office. Or—” She realized what she’d said, her face flaming red.
Not meeting my eyes, she hurried past me to continue the tour.
Outside, she came across another overgrown garden, and she pushed through the overgrowth, stopping.
I caught up and peered over her shoulder at the weathered bench placed in a hidden spot with a perfect lake view.
She walked to it slowly, like in a dream. After she’d sat, she stared at the water.
“This is perfect. This is exactly…” Biting down on her lips, she frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m acting like this could be my house.”
I sat beside her, the bench creaking under my weight.
“This is exactly the kind of feedback I need.” I cleared my throat. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Sammy. Please.”
“This one needs a lot of work, but if someone wanted to put in the time and effort, it could be incredible.”
Her voice came out careful, and I sensed she’d built her walls back up.
“What if that someone had help?” I asked.
She looked at me, confused and hopeful and scared all at once.
The moment stretched between us.
Mason called from the porch, breaking the spell.
During the final walkthrough, she remained quiet. Guarded. But she studied everything with a hint of longing. The pantry and porch. The bedroom with the blue walls.
Each glance felt like a goodbye.
And I knew with absolute certainty that this was the one.
Every preference she’d mentioned was here. She’d lit up in every room. She’d mentioned Corey a number of times, unconsciously seeing him in the space. The kitchen had made her weepy. She’d found the bench with a perfect view.
It was large enough for her, for Corey, for me, and for a family.
My instincts screamed mate, home, sanctuary, ours.
My tail wouldn’t stop swishing. My wings kept flicking outward. I had to consciously keep them folded against my back. Every fiber of my being wanted to buy this house this instant.
As we left, she took one last look back, touching the porch railing as she passed.
“Thank you for including me,” she said. “This was really special.”
Dusk was settling in by the time we flew back. The sky turned colors, and lights began to appear below.
Sammy leaned her full weight against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
She was quiet for a long time before she spoke up. “Today was lovely. I’ve never… No one’s ever…”
She didn’t finish.
I suspected she was trying to say that no one had ever asked her opinion or valued her thoughts, let alone shown her houses on lakes.
My throat tightened with anger at her past and determination for her future.
“I value your opinion more than anyone’s,” I said.
Her breath snagged in her throat.
“You see things others miss. The potential in places and people.”
She was quiet so long I thought she’d fallen asleep.
“I was imagining myself living in the second house,” she said. “That was wrong of me.”
“Not really. It’s natural. You should have a place like that.”
She lifted her head, looking up at me in the dim light. “People like me don’t get houses on lakes.”
The defeat in her voice cracked my chest wide open.
“Why not?”
She looked away. “Because… I don’t know. We just don’t.”
She returned her head to my shoulder and sighed.
It felt like she was saying something without words, and I didn’t know how to respond except to hold her safely.
After landing at the manor, I didn’t want to let her go. I set her on her feet slowly, keeping one hand on her waist, steadying her.
She didn’t step back right away.
Crickets chirped in the deep grass, and the setting sunlight created intimacy. She looked up at me.
My tail curved toward her.
“It’s late,” she said. “I should go inside and get dinner going. Corey will be home soon.”
She turned toward the door.
Everything in me screamed to stop her.
I caught her hand. “Sammy, wait.”
She turned, backlit by the sun, looking ethereal, beautiful, but scared.
My heart was trying to crack its way through my ribs.
“I need to tell you something.”
She was nervous. I could see it in how she shifted her weight. But she didn’t pull her hand away. She looked at me like she was hoping and dreading whatever it was I needed to say.
I couldn’t tell her about the mating bond. It was too soon. She’d run. But I had to tell her why I wanted her to have nice things. Why the second house felt right because she belonged in every room.
My heart pounded.
My mouth went dry.
I was more scared than I’d been in years.