The staff cabins each hold personal touches, built in different sizes in a little cul-de-sac that allows everyone a semblance of privacy.
Blake and Nathaniel had walked me to the one at the end, pressed a key into my hand, and left me alone after getting my promise to come to the Homestead for dinner.
Now, my duffel bag lands with a soft thud on the hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the quiet space. Afternoon light filters through uncurtained windows, casting long rectangles ofgold across the floor. I step inside and close the door behind me, sealing myself into this new reality.
The cabin is small but thoughtfully arranged, a main room with a kitchenette along one wall, a bedroom visible through an open doorway, an office, and a bathroom in between.
Bare walls painted a soothing cream await personal touches. A simple couch covered in navy blue fabric occupies the center of the room, a coffee table crafted from reclaimed wood, and a reading lamp with a paper shade. When I flip the switch, it casts a warm glow.
I move to the kitchenette, running my fingers along the smooth countertop. A single mug sits beside the coffee maker, the handmade ceramic a deep forest green. My favorite color. I wonder who remembered that detail.
The refrigerator hums quietly, and when I open it, I find it already stocked with milk, eggs, butter, cheese, and a loaf of bread from the bakery in town.
The bedroom contains a queen bed with a simple frame, topped with a handmade quilt of blue and green. I recognize it as one Emily was working on back in November. My throat tightens at the sight, and I turn away before I break out in tears.
My steps carry me back to the main room, where I come to a stop when I spot the bookshelf. My fingers tingle with the memory of sandpaper smoothing over the woodgrain. The threat of tears increases, and I turn in a circle, spying the shoe rack by the back door that leads into a simple garden.
I kneel beside it, my fingers tracing a small burn mark on one corner where the sander slipped. I remember the days we spent building it together in her wood shop, her patient instructions as she taught me to use the table saw.
The memory sends a pang through my chest, sharp enough to make me catch my breath.
These pieces were meant to be the start of a different life, one where I would wake in Emily’s cottage to the sound of her kneading bread dough in the kitchen, where Jared and I would drink coffee on the porch while watching the sun rise over the trees.
A life of belonging that I sacrificed in my misguided attempt to handle everything alone.
The cabin feels larger than it should, the silence settling around me with the reminder of what’s missing.
Through the window, I can see the Homestead in the distance. Lights glow in the windows, connected but still separate. That’s what Blake offered. A place in their pack, but I’m not part of their family.
I run my hand along the shoe rack one more time, remembering Emily’s words.
“It takes time, but all good things do.”
I have time now.
Time to prove that the life I lost is one I’m willing to earn back, no matter how long it takes.
Starting tomorrow, I will begin building again.
Chapter Forty
Grady
My stomach rumbles as the scent of chicken parmesan reaches me before I even knock.
Through the glass, I catch sight of Emily at the stove while Jared sets the table. My stomach growls as I lift my knuckles to the door, but my chest tightens at the same time.
It’s the same cottage, the same Saturday dinner I’ve been coming to for months. But it’s different tonight.
The door swings open before my knuckles connect, and Emily breaks into a smile that warms her gray eyes. “Right on time. Come in before you freeze.”
I step over the threshold into the wall of heat from the fireplace. “Brought wine.” I hold up the bottle of expensive red sent by my father as a Christmas gift. “Seemed like a night for the good stuff.”
“I’ll open it to breathe.” As she takes the bottle, our fingers brush, and the brief contact sends a pulse through me that I try not to examine.
Jared straightens from the table. “Hey, man. Thought you might bail on us tonight.”
“And miss Emily’s chicken parmesan? Not a chance.” I shrug out of my coat, hanging it on the hook that’s become mine over these past months.