Chapter 21 #2
“True,” I concede. “But it’s a scenic walk. With incline.”
“Then I’ll just roll downhill when I get tired.” She shuts the door, seatbelt snapping into place. “Problem solved.”
Her sarcasm is adorable, and much preferred to the agony and rage that tinged her words just an hour ago. Less fury, more teasing. I’ll take it.
We make one last stop on the way out of town—this one at my place. She goes quiet when I pull into the driveway of a small cottage-style house—the kind with a peaked roof, a modest front porch, and enough shrubs out front to look like I might actually care about landscaping.
“This is… your house?” she asks, climbing out slowly, like we are most certainly in the wrong place.
“Last I checked,” I say, jogging up the front steps to unlock the front door.
“I guess I’ve always pictured you in an apartment,” she shrugs. “Something more bachelor-pad-like, with bare walls, a futon, and maybe a sad fern you keep forgetting to water.”
I snort. “That was my life for a while, yeah. Stephanie and I always lived in apartments. She could never settle on a house—every one we looked at had some flaw that made it unworthy. The kitchen wasn’t big enough.
The neighborhood wasn’t polished enough.
The paint color wasn’t trendy enough. Nothing ever cleared her bar for perfection, so we just…
stayed in limbo. Apartment after apartment, always temporary, never rooted. ”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“Oh yes,” I nod. “It was. After the divorce, I couldn’t stand that feeling anymore. Everything else in my life was falling apart—my marriage, my routine, my sense of what the hell I was even doing. I needed something solid. Something I could point to and say, This is mine.”
I open the door and step inside, motioning for her to follow. I spread my arms as if to say, ta-da!
“So I bought this place. It’s not big, it’s not flashy, but it’s a house. Comfortable, manageable, and completely mine. No memories of anyone else. No leases or landlords. No shared walls with weird ass people I don’t know. Just me deciding how it looks, how it feels, how it stands.”
I gesture around the cozy living room: books stacked on built-in shelves, a real couch with real throw pillows, a guitar leaning against the corner. It’s not flashy, but it’s lived-in. Warm.
“Whatcha think?” I ask, studying her expression as she takes in my space. My home.
Tori nods, eyes softening. She gets it. Of course she does.
But does she like it? And why does that suddenly matter so much to me?
“I love it,” she says, a warm, wide smile on her face.
She means it. She really does love it.
That’s good. That’s really, really good.
Then she huffs, a humorless sound. Her smile transforms from warm to wistful, happy to hollow.
“I’m in the opposite situation. Trying to figure out how to force Chase to sell the house we bought together so I can afford to start fresh.
Right now I feel—” She hesitates, then throws caution to the wind and opts for full vulnerability.
“Homeless. Like I’m crashing on my best friend’s couch.
Even though I know that’s not really what this is.
Skye would fight me to the death if I ever called her generosity ‘crashing.’ I pay rent.
I live there as a fully contributing roommate. ”
Her laugh is weak, but her eyes say the rest.
“I feel like I’m going backwards.” She’s wringing her hands together, no longer taking in the home around her but instead thinking of the home she’s lost.
Shit.
“Tori,” I say, taking a step closer. “May I touch you?”
She nods, still staring down at her hands. I lift a finger to her chin, tipping her face up so her gaze meets mine.
“Hi.” I smile at her, hoping it’ll help the light return to those beautiful hazel eyes.
“Hi,” she whispers. This woman is so goddamn beautiful, so strong and brave and smart and funny. And also in so much pain. All I want to do is hold her together. To take it all away. But I know that’s not how this works. I know that’s not what she wants or needs.
She needs a friend. Someone who understands what she’s going through and doesn’t try to fix it for her. Someone who stands with her and reminds her that she’s got this, everything is going to be okay, and that even when everything is falling apart both around and within her, it’s okay.
It’s okay because everything happens for a reason, and that reason is because she is meant to rise like a motherfucking phoenix.
She doesn’t see it yet, but it’s already happening.
I lean in and place a soft kiss on her forehead, then step away and walk to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water and some snacks from the pantry.
I swipe an empty backpack from the coat closet by the front door and toss our sustenance inside, thankful I do not have to change since I’m already dressed in light hike-appropriate clothing since I didn’t dress for anyone else to be in the office today.
“Alright, Tote. Here’s the deal.” I sling the backpack over my shoulder, locking eyes with my hiking companion before we exit the premises.
“Today, you are not homeless. You’re not a divorcee.
You are hot, but you are not a hot mess.
You’re not anything except a woman in a purple sweater who’s going to take a walk in the woods with a man. Deal?”
Her mouth quirks sideways, almost a smile. “Deal.”
“Did that sound as weirdly creepy as I think it did?”
“I’m totally texting Skye so she knows where to find my body.”