Page 66

And so, she stays, wrapped in a blanket of stars and firelight, surrounded by people who love us and animals who don’t understand personal space. And for the first time in a long, long time… I don’t feel like something’s missing. I feelfull.

This is what it means to come home.

Chapter twenty-two

Abby

Ididn’texpectitto feel like this.

Pulling up to Beck’s farmhouse —oursomeday farmhouse, if I let myself dream that big — my heart gives this ridiculous little kick.

It’s peaceful here.

It’s quiet in a way that seeps under your skin and settles deep. Fields stretch around us like a soft green quilt, the wraparound porch worn in all the right places, a rocking chair gently creaking in the breeze.

Jake is practically vibrating in the passenger seat.

“Mom,look! Spotty is going to have SO much room to run! Do you think Beck will let me build a hockey net in the yard? Or maybe a whole rink in the winter?”

I laugh, because with Beck, that’s not even impossible.

“I think you should probably ask him before you start making blueprints in your head.”

Jake grins, already unbuckling.

And me?

I sit there for a beat longer, staring at the house that Beck Hayes bought withusin mind.

Not just me.

Us.

***

Inside, the place smells like cedar and fresh paint. But also... faintly like him.

Warm. Familiar.

Jake tears off down the hall with Spotty on his heels, leaving me standing in the open living space — this big, beautiful, slightly empty canvas waiting to be filled.

Waiting forlife.

Waiting for us.

It’s not fully moved in — like Beck’s been holding his breath.

There’s furniture, sure. Comfy, worn-in pieces that look like they’ve been chosen for curling up with a kid or a dog. A big farmhouse table is just begging for pancake breakfasts. Cozy throws are draped over the couch.

But the walls?

The walls are waiting.

Except for one.

My breath catches.

A framed photo — taken when Beck had skated with Jake at the VIP charity event. Jake mid-laugh, Beck looking at him like he hung the moon.