Once the door clicks shut, I sink into the chair beside the fire, hands wrapping around the coffee cup. The warmth seeps in, easing the tension that’s coiled low in my muscles.
Rufus shifts, stretching beside the fire, tail wagging lazily. I glance down at him, a faint grin tugging at my lips, and take another sip of coffee.
The house is silent now, save for the occasional crackle of the fire. My body relaxes fractionally, shoulders loosening. I run a hand through my hair, feeling the exhaustion from the morning still clinging despite the shower.
My eyes drift to the strands of hair I left tangled on the comb, a reminder of my failed attempt at braiding. I shake my head, grinning ruefully. Patience isn’t my strong suit, but maybe persistence counts too.
I set the coffee cup on the table and lean back, watching the sunlight shift across the floor. The house smells faintly of burnt toast from breakfast, coffee, and the cozy warmth from the fire.
My chest still hums with tension, the low ache of yesterday’s memories still pressing.
I let my mind wander for a moment, letting the heat slide along the edges of memory, but then I glance at the clock and realize the day is moving faster than I expected.
I finish my coffee and stretch out, arms reaching above my head, muscles loosening. The ache in my chest, the low coil of tension, stays with me, a quiet reminder of things I can’t touch, moments I can’t replay beyond my own memory.
I tidy up the counter, stacking the coffee mugs and wiping stray crumbs from the table. Rufus yawns, rolling over by the fire, tail thumping lazily.
The house feels alive in the soft sunlight, but my mind keeps drifting, thinking about Norah and the warmth of last night, the way she’d pressed against me when she felt too hot, too feverish, too out of control.
I shake my head, smiling faintly at myself. She’s impossible, infuriating, and bright as the sun.
I run a hand down my jaw, brushing against stubble, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. Patience. Persistence. Focus.
I gather the few papers and supplies left on the table, moving toward the door to head out. The sun catches in the snow outside, making the world glint, sharp and clear.
I pause at the threshold, glance back at Rufus curled by the fire, and allow myself a small, private smile.
Last night was impossible, but I survived it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jude
Maisie settlesinto the back seat with her legs swinging, the little kicks brushing the upholstery.
I pull out of the driveway and merge onto the main road, the morning still washed with that soft, pale light that makes everything feel half-awake.
She watches the passing trees like she’s trying to count them. After a minute, she pipes up, “Can we play I Spy?”
“Sure,” I say, adjusting my grip on the wheel. “You start.”
“I spy with my little eye… something green.”
“Everything’s green,” I tease. “You have to narrow it down.”
She taps her chin like she’s seventy instead of eight. “Fine. Something green and spiky.”
I let out a hum. “One of the pine trees?”
“Yes.” She beams like she’s just aced a test.
We keep going. She picks a cloud next, then the blue mailbox outside a farmhouse.
I guess wrong on purpose a few times so she can correct me, because every time she says, “Nooo, Uncle Jude,” she laughs like it’s the best game in the world.
She doesn’t laugh much at home. Not lately. I’ll take what I can get.
When the road curves toward the highway, she goes quiet for a stretch, holding the straps of her seatbelt between her fingers. Then she says, “I wish I brought Frida.”
