“What if we hosted New Year’s Eve here?” I saw what she was trying to do. She was trying to distract me from the fact that she was leaving—a whole day earlier than I’d expected.
“Here?” I sputtered, surprised she’d even suggest it.
When she’d arrived almost two weeks ago, it would’ve been out of the question. She hadn’t mentioned removing my eyesore of a tiny home since, but maybe that was because I kept her too sexed up to care. Hell, at the moment, the only thing I cared about was her.
I rubbed a hand over my scruff. This was a problem. She was leaving soon. We still hadn’t discussed what to do with the house. And her silence on the matter weighed heavily on me. Even though I’d been the one to insist on a moratorium for talking about the issue, I feared her lack of communication meant she hadn’t budged on selling.
“Yeah.” She tossed a slice of apple into her mouth, grinning as it crunched between her teeth. “Why not?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great. Then we wouldn’t have to find a ride home.”
Home.The word sat heavy between us. I had a home—in the backyard. Even if Max and I had spent every night here lately. And Audrey had a home, a life, back in Boston. Yet this felt more like our home every day. This house, which belonged to both of us, felt like something so much more than a piece of property or an inheritance. For not the first time since Scott’s death, I wondered why he’d left it to both of us. Why leave it to me at all?
I listened to the steady tick of the grandfather clock, feeling as if I were running out of time.Wewere running out of time.
“You seem very…contemplative today,” Audrey said, wrapping her arm around my waist and peering up at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “Just thinking about your dad.”
“Yeah.” She glanced around, admiring the home that had been his. It still looked very much the same as when he’d lived here, but it felt different. There was a different energy or something.
He was no longer a point of contention between us. Ever since she’d discovered her mother’s letter in the attic, I’d noticed a clear shift. She was lighter somehow, despite Scott’s death. She’d smile as she spoke of happy memories with him, then cry as she lamented her regrets.
Hell, I had my own regrets when it came to the man. His death weighed heavily on me. If only I’d realized… How could I not have known?
“I miss him too,” she said, giving me a squeeze.
We remained there a moment before I asked, “Do you think we should talk about the house?”
She laughed, though the sound was mirthless. “We should, but I don’t want to.”
I nodded, pulling her into my side. “Agreed.” Besides, we still had a few days remaining. Why ruin what little time we had left together?
* * *
“Hey, man,”Chase said, slapping his palm against mine. Sunlight was fading, the temperature shifting cooler. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.” I patted him on the back. “Grab yourself a drink, and then let’s get the fire set up.”
He bumped my shoulder with his as we walked toward the backyard. “Is Grady here? You know he’ll have some opinions on setting it up.”
I laughed. “Yeah. He’s coming, along with the rest of the Malones.”
“Kids too?”
“Fuck no,” I said. Much as I adored Luke and Brody, the New Year’s Eve bonfire was a tradition more suited to adults. “They’re with their grandparents.”
“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since…before Christmas.” He stumbled over his words, and I knew he was trying to avoid mentioning Scott’s funeral.
“I’ve been good, busy.”
“Yeah?” He paused. “Busy with what?”
“Just busy,” I grunted.
“Oh, that means you’re getting laid,” he said in a smug tone. “Who is she?”
“She’s… I’m not. Just drop it.”
