Chapter 4
The house stood still in the fading light, quieter now, emptied of the mourners and nosy neighbors who’d shown up more for gossip than out of compassion.
The sun had begun its slow descent when Kara and Zoe pulled into the gravel driveway. The last of the guests had left, their cars disappearing down the long driveway one by one.
Kara let out a breath. “Finally,” she said, stepping out of the car. “No casserole-toting distant cousins. No Lillian with her passive-aggressiveness.”
Zoe cracked a tired grin. “Just us.”
The silence inside the house wrapped around them like an old, heavy blanket.
The air smelled of dust and wood polish, like no one had opened a window in months.
Kara’s heels clicked softly on the hardwood as they moved.
Zoe grabbed two boxes from the hallway closet,t and Kara grabbed a few garbage bags from the kitchen.
They started in the living room, cleaning up the mess the family had left behind. They worked side by side, chatting as they went, grateful for something to keep their hands busy.
“What was that about at lunch?” Zoe asked, wiping down the dining table.
“My spur-of-the-moment decisions don’t always go over well,” Kara said with a small smile. “I promise, it’s not about the money, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“No, actually.” Zoe paused, glancing at her. “I meant you telling us to keep the money after the house is sold.”
Kara stopped what she was doing.
“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything. Neither does anyone else.”
Kara knew her sister well enough to know that charity was not something Zoe accepted willingly. “It’s for Isabel. Put it toward her college fund.”
Zoe scoffed, shaking her head. “How am I supposed to refuse now?”
Kara winked. “I’ll head upstairs while you clean up.”
She held an empty box just outside her father’s bedroom door. Maybe this could be a kindness she could give Zoe.
She threw open the window and gasped, breathing in the fresh air.
Thankfully, George hadn’t been a hoarder. Ironically, it was in death that he had been the most helpful to her.
There wasn’t much in his room to pack away—one bed, one dresser drawer, a half-empty closet, and a bedside table with a dented metal lamp. Their mom's things were long gone; he had gotten rid of everything that belonged to his wife before her body was put in the ground.
At a leisurely pace, drawers were emptied into trash bags. Kara didn’t linger on the yellowed undershirts, the tattered Bible with his name scribbled on the inside cover. Kara paused briefly over a cracked leather belt that brought back memories of her undeserved whippings.
She folded shirts mechanically, her expression flat, as if refusing to let herself feel anything.
? ? ?
The kitchen was next—old spice jars, expired cans, half a bottle of something dark in the back of the cabinet.
Zoe tossed it into the trash without a second glance.
Kara opened the drawer where they used to keep the birthday candles and matches.
Nothing had changed; she emptied it and shut it again.
By the time they reached the hallway closet, neither spoke. They moved in rhythm, almost practiced, packing what they wanted and tossing away what they didn’t.
“This part's easier than I thought it’d be,” Zoe finally said, while she taped a box shut.
Kara looked up. “We’re not holding on to anything. We’re free.”
They stood still for a moment, listening to the creaks of the old house settling around them. It didn’t feel like home, but a place they’d both outgrown.
“Two days,” Kara said, brushing her hands on her jeans. “We’ve got this.”
Zoe nodded. “Let’s finish fast.”
They moved separately into their old bedrooms. She sat on the edge of her childhood bed, and the room closed in on her.
Her mind dragged her through it all—the nights she cried herself to sleep, the mornings she laughed so hard it hurt, the secrets whispered into pillows, the moments she’d once believed might save her.
The room looked exactly as she’d left it, preserving every version of her that had existed there.
A knock echoed through the house, quick and firm.
“You have a visitor,” Zoe called from down the stairs, voice curious but light.
Kara frowned.
A visitor.
She wasn’t expecting anyone. She rose from the bed, smoothing the hem of her sweater as she made her way to the front door. Her heart kicked just a little faster—instinct, unease, or something she didn’t want to name. And then she saw him.
Standing at the bottom of the steps was Colin Miller, with effortlessly tousled sandy brown hair, combed back with his fingers. He looked every bit as ruggedly handsome as she remembered.
The years had been good to him, maybe too good. Stubble dusted his jaw, and there was a quiet confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. His button-down sleeves were rolled to his elbows, giving him an easy, relaxed look.
He smiled wide when he saw her, warm and familiar. And damn it—her stomach flipped. She was suddenly, overwhelmingly glad Isaac had stayed at the hotel.
Was I blushing?
“Kara Nicholls,” he said, a low lilt in his voice. “As I live and breathe.”
Kara gave a small, theatrical courtesy. “In the flesh.”
They both chuckled softly, and something in the air shifted. “It’s good to see you,” Colin said sincerely. “I wish it were under different circumstances and not so many years later.”
Kara nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to stop by. Offer my condolences and my services.”
“Services?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
“We do events. Catering, bar service. I thought maybe I could help with food after the funeral,” he rattled through quickly. “I bought the old toy shop on the corner of Peachtree and Rowan Avenue; it's a restaurant called Miller’s Bistro.”
He said it casually, but Kara saw it—the flicker in his eyes.
She followed his gaze. The subtle glance that shifted down to her left hand. To the ring. The diamond glinted in the afternoon light. Impossible to miss.
She suddenly felt the urge to hide her hand, and the thought made her feel awkward. Instead, she just stared at him, unsure of what to say.
“Colin…” she started, unsure where the sentence was headed. But he just nodded, giving her an out.
“No pressure,” he said. “Just say the word, and I’m there to help.”
She knew he meant it. Not just about the catering. Just as Kara opened her mouth to respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She hesitated, glancing down at the screen.
Isaac.
She gave Colin an apologetic look and stepped aside, answering the call with a quiet, “Hey.”
“Why aren't you back?” Isaac’s voice was crisp, almost impatient.
“Zoe and I started packing early and lost track of time. I actually have a visitor right now.”
“Visitor?” His tone tightened. Kara exhaled slowly. “Colin.”
“Colin Miller?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “He stopped by to offer help. He came by and was just offering catering services after the funeral.”
Isaac made a noise she couldn’t quite interpret—something between a scoff and a sigh.
“You know we already hired someone,” he said. “I took care of it before we left.”
“I didn’t know,” Kara replied. “You didn’t tell me.”
A pause.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said finally. “We need to talk about Monday.”
“Monday?”
“Our flight.” His voice sharpened. “Back home.”
The words felt like a cold wind across her skin.
“Right. Okay.”
Isaac hung up without another word. Kara lowered the phone slowly, staring at the screen as if it might explain. It didn’t. Just a digital clock ticking time away; she didn’t feel ready to give up.
She turned back to Colin. He hadn’t moved. His eyes searched hers, quietly waiting.
“That was him?” he asked gently.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Kara only gave a small nod.
“He sounds exactly how you pretend to like them,” Colin said, offering a woeful look.
“He’s practical,” she murmured, though it felt more like an excuse than a defense.
Colin nodded once, then stepped back.
“Offer still stands, Kara. Even if it’s just me showing up to make sure you eat.”
Like he used to on double shifts at the diner.
Something twisted in her chest—sadness, maybe. Or remorse. Or longing. Maybe it was all three.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For coming here, it was really good to see you.” He tipped his head, then turned to go. She watched him walk away, her phone suddenly prickly and her heart troubled.
“Let's stop here,” Kara said aloud, instantly overwhelmed with emotions. “Big day tomorrow.”
Being near Colin pulled her backward. To the girl she’d been before she left town, before. She had loved him then—loved him quietly, carefully—and she had never told him.
He loved her back, everyone knew, but after her life fell apart, fear kept her silent.
She had fled instead, escaping without a goodbye.
And here he was so many years later, offering his help without a hint of anger about the past. She hadn’t expected to see him, hadn’t even thought about what she would say; her mind went blank in his presence.
Her chest tightened, her brain felt overloaded, and she couldn’t think.
She returned to the hotel before Isaac left, wondering why he was so stiff on the phone. He knew about Colin— only that he had helped her when she was struggling.
Not about him being the only man she’d ever loved; that was just for her.