She tells me about Ethan in Vermont. How he needed a break from everything almost like a reset button. “I’m going to work on myself too. I’m going to prove t0 him, I’m the one. That I can change and be the woman he needs.”
I turn to loo at yer
I tell her about the office. About how nothing is the same. About how I thought I’d be engaged by Christmas.
“And now I’m dancing in a cage,” I whisper. “Me. The debate team girl. The clarinet player. Girls like you made me the butt of every one of their jokes in high school and now you’re my best friend.”
She laughs softly. “Tell me their names. I’ve got skills.”
We giggle until we fall asleep.
And as I drift off, I think:
We might both be single.
We might both be lost.
But I’m not lonely when I’m with her.
She takes the loneliness away.
And that’s everything.
CHAPTER 28
ETHAN
By the time winter edges into the mountains, I’ve relearned the sound of quiet.
Not the city kind.
City quiet hums. It vibrates. It sits on your chest like unpaid debt. Even at 3 a.m., it’s waiting to accuse you of something.
This quiet is different.
Snow absorbs everything. Pines hold their breath. The house ticks softly at night as the temperature drops — wood contracting, old beams settling into place like bones realigning.
Tony and I bought this place after September broke the world open.
Not as an investment.
Not as a vacation fantasy.
As a way out.
Tony needed distance from the empire waiting for him in Boston — uncles who spoke in balance sheets and bloodlines. He wanted to build something that didn’t come preloaded with expectation.
I needed air.
Sky that didn’t feel crowded.
I’ve been here long enough now that the house smells like sawdust and coffee instead of neglect. Long enough that my palms are split open for real — splinters, drywall dust, calluses earned honestly. Long enough that when a plane cuts overhead, I don’t freeze.
Most days I work until I’m exhausted.
Strip walls down to studs. Replace rot. Square beams that were never true. Tear out what’s compromised and rebuild it the right way.
Wood makes sense.
