Page 30 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

7

NELLY

Ten months ago... Tacoma, Washington

I wandered through the living room, fingers trailing along faded, plaid wallpaper. The realtor was efficient—too efficient. A young, monogamous Beta couple with a baby on the way had fallen in love with the "vintage charm" and "unlimited potential” of the old home. They’d been excited to find out a monogamous Alpha and Omega couple owned it for so long. They said it was meant to be, said they felt a deep connection to the house.

A deep connection. That irritated me. How could a fifteen-minute tour compare to decades?

“They don’t make them like this anymore.”

“Such good bones, a sturdy foundation.”

The Barbie-perfect Omega realtor had given me a play-by-play of the entire showing afterwards. Their realtor had already reached out with a verbal offer, but we were waiting on the written counterpart now. They were already talking about knocking a wall down. Major renovations. Repainting my grandparents’ room. Changing the antique doorknobs. Eventhough it was still technically mine, the house was already slipping away.

Grandpa’s words resonated in my head, banging around my grey matter, trying to find a place to implant permanently.

Not the end of the world, just the end of a world.

But it was my world, dammit. And I wasn’t ready to let any of it go.

It was well after midnight, and the house seemed to breathe around me.In. Out. In again.Inhaling and exhaling all the memories its walls had seen. Was it removing them to prep for its new occupants? Or was it pulling the ghost of us ever deeper, embedding us into its framework?

God, I still couldn’t believe I was selling this place.

Couldn’t believe I’d not be sleeping here next month.

My brain drifted back to Grandpa. The cancer bombshell. His following instructions to sell and make a new life. I was honoring his last will and testament, even if we weren't calling it that. I’d planned on hiding in Seattle, but I’d never once considered giving up our beloved home. It was my security blanket. If Seattle didn’t work out, if I never got a job and the money ran out, I’d come back and stay here. I’d stay until the walls crumbled around me.

“Medicaidand the last of the savings account will cover the rest of my time here. I've set up a trust for Annie. Won't matter how long she lives, it'll be enough.”

“How is that possible? Find a golden goose?” It was an inside joke, but it didn’t feel funny at all. Not anymore. Not with how very unfunny reality had become.

He winked at me. “I didn't sell my entire coin collection back when we sent you to San Francisco. Now, sell that house. The lien is still about fifty thousand or so, but I've had an appraisal done. You'll come out with a hundred even in its current condition. The realtor will be in touch with you next week. She’ll probably tell you to do a few repairs or updates, things to maximize the market value, but ignore all of that. Just list it as-is.”

My mind raced.When the heck had Grandpa gotten the house appraised and inspected? Why didn’t I notice? Had I been gone, enduring yet another fruitless interview?

“I can't sell our house, Grandpa. I won't.” I shook my head violently. I was already forced to accept the fact he didn’t want treatment, now he was asking me to say goodbye to the place that I’d spent my entire childhood, the place I loved so much.

"I'm not asking you to do it, Nelly. I'm telling you to do it." His voice was soft but unyielding. "You need a fresh start. That house is full of memories, good ones mostly, but they’ll haunt you all the same."

My mouth opened to protest again, but he held up his palm.

"Honey, listen to me. The last thing you need at your age is baggage. An old house. Old grandparents fading away. Old city that’s not been treating you kindly." His eyes, jaundiced but still sharp, pinned me in place. How did he always know?

The floor seemed to shift beneath me. "Everything’s fine. Tacoma is where I want to be."

He sighed. “I didn’t want to push you. Wanted you to tell me in your own time. I’ll be honest though, Madame Belova tracked me down. She was worried about you."

The betrayal stung like a physical slap. "She had no right."

"Maybe not, but I’m glad I finally know a few things, glad I finally understand why your visits were few and far between over the last year. More than that, really. You looked pale in video calls. Winced when you moved. You always shrugged it off. How could you tell us it was minor surgery, Nell?” He shook his head, melancholy washing over him. “I hate you went through all of that, and we weren’t beside you.”

“That’s not your fault,” I insisted. “I’m the one who kept you in the dark.”

“You did. And now I’m pushing you out of the dark.” He leaned forward. His eyes held fire; he was determined to convince me. "You're too young to cling to the past. The house is just walls and a roof. We’ll always be right here.” He reached toward me, pushed his pointer into my body over my heart, then dropped his arm again. His face was so pale. “What matters now is what you do next."

I averted my gaze. "I don't know what to do next."