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God, we had. Movie marathons. Disastrous cooking lessons where Aunt Lindy had done her best to teach us both a few staple dishes to catastrophic results on our part. We were too busy tossing the cheese we’d grated at each other to actually pay attention. There’d been birthday parties in the backyard that were decently attended by our more popular friends and classmates. It was a testament to the warm environment my aunt had always created for us, a safe but cool place for the teenagers of Dreamer’s Bay to gather. Now it was up to me to figure out how to transition the now quiet space to something new and special.

I had one prominent idea.

But before expressing it, I blinked, wishing I had water. My throat was sandpaper, and my head now ached. Why did raw emotion always make me so thirsty? “I think I might hold on to this place,” I croaked.

Jonathan’s jaw dropped. His eyes went to saucers. “Stop. The house? Do you think you’ll move in? This is better than a bottomless brunch at a Beyoncé concert.”

I’d considered it. But I loved my own little house too much to let it go. It had taken so long to save up enough for a down payment, and once I had, my friend Devyn Winters, a real estate agent here in town, had brokered an amazing deal. That house was purely me and, now, my biggest accomplishment. I’d taken time to decorate it in my own random style. Framed magazine covers on the walls. Several seating nooks for reading or working, rather than just one central living room conglomeration. I’d gone with more pastels than the average person, leaning into blues and greens. Comfortable and bright, that was my place. I’d even constructed a garden in front and a second, more expansive one in the backyard, where I could sit on the patio, drink my milky-white coffee, and look out at the Carolina roses as they bloomed in the spring. I just couldn’t imagine leaving my home, nor could I part with Lindy’s house.

I took a deep breath. “Devyn thinks I can list it and take advantage of the market, but I don’t think I can say goodbye to this place. To all of the memories here.” My heart squeezed uncomfortably imagining that moment: locking the door for the last time and handing over the key to what had been my safe place. As for the idea I’d had percolating, I decided to just go ahead and say it out loud. Band-Aids were best ripped off. “I want to rent it out to visitors to Dreamer’s Bay.” There. It was out there now. I was giving the idea wings and hoping it flew.

“Yeah?” He squinted, quirking his head. “Like an Airbnb?”

“Exactly that.” I could feel myself ready to explode with detail. “I already have a few ideas on how I can modernize the décor, change the paint colors, and make the study into an extra bedroom. I also want to put together a whole welcome packet for my guests, telling them all about the Bay and where they should head.”

“And avoid,” Jonathan supplied. “Ma’s Café has given me food poisoning three times in three years.”

I winced. “Yeah, Ma likes her chicken on the pink side. We’ll tell the guests.” Holding on to my excitement with all that I had, I made a headline gesture. “Tips and tricks from Savanna Potter, your honored host. Oh! Maybe I’ll send a dozen donuts on their first morning.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan said with a nod.

I ignored his reserved chime. My thoughts took over like a boulder down the soft side of a hill. “Oh, and maybe even a basket of snacks and bottle of wine when they arrive.” Honestly, I needed the distraction from whatever number this grief thing was going to do to me once I let it sink in. Maybe the goal was avoiding that moment altogether.

Jonathan tilted his head from side to side as he weighed the concept. “That’s a lot. Are you trying to make money or new friends?”

It was rhetorical and I understood his point. I needed to slow my roll and not reinvest all my potential profits in perks. It was hard not to want to do all the things for my imaginary tenants. I wanted to spoil them, wow them, until they couldn’t imagine staying anywhere as wonderful. They’d tell their grandchildren about my service.

“Okay, so maybe no donuts. But on the whole, what do you think?” I rolled my shoulders like a boxer heading into the ring. “Hit me with the Jonathan Parsons realism. Dash my dreams. Spit on my goals. I’ll see if I can hold my own.”

He nodded, absorbing. I very much valued Jonathan’s opinion. He tended to see things from angles I hadn’t examined, which was why our friendship was superior to all others ever invented. I was pie in the sky. He was practical and down to earth. His gift. He had no problem telling me that I was ridiculous when I good andwas.

“I like it,” he said, finally. “The potential is there. It’s a lower risk investment. I say run with it.”

I waited. “Where’s the other shoe? Isn’t there one you’re about to lob at my head?” I raised a suspicious brow. I’d honestly believed he’d play the too risky card, and I’d have to lay out all the pros to his list of cons.

“Going barefoot today,” he said with a very Jonathan-like smirkand shrug. “And avoiding that beautiful head. Plus, it’s the first day all week your hair has slayed. The deep red works in an attic.” He was so cute that I ignored the backhanded compliment. Why had no wonderful man snatched his snarky ass up yet? It made no sense to me.

“Oh, I like it. You called me beautiful.”

“Well, everyone else does. I’m loosening up. It’s the new me.” He pretended to ease a strand of nonexistent long hair behind his ear.

“Say more words.”

“About your venture? I will recommend your place on my wildly popular gay men’s Discord group, Ocarina of Crime,” Jonathan said, smiling more widely now.

“Is that a play on words I would get if I playedZelda?” His favorite. I made my way toward the ladder. The longer I stayed, the greater the chance that the past would swallow me whole.

“It is, and you’ve failed. You insult the honorable people of Hyrule. But I digress. Here’s the nitty-gritty. We live in an ever-growing tourist destination, and you’ve recently inherited a viable property just blocks from the beach. Let me repeat that. Blocks. From. The. Beach.”

“All true. Knowing you, I’m surprised you didn’t addbitchfor the alliteration.”

“I considered it. Now, you get this house into shape within a couple of months, and it’ll be perfect for a family or small group of friends. Bonus”—he exhaled and offered a relieved smile—“we get to keep Lindy’s house, and I’m not at all against doing that.” He said that last part in a rush.

“Right? It’s still ours.” My heart squeezed as I looked over a near mountain of boxes that had belonged to the wonderful woman who’d raised me. She was now with my parents in whatever comes after this life, probably drinking margaritas and whipping something up on a heavenly stove while the rest of them gabbed. God, I was jealous.

“And the Airbnb gives me the motivation to go through Lindy’s things.” I gave Jonathan a shake. “A new beginning to latch onto.”

“A reason to look forward and not just back.”