In the empty parking lot, I watched him climb into his truck and then he was off back down the highway.I followed close because I hadn’t a clue where we were going.He turned down a one-lane tree-lined road and then slowed as he came to a driveway that was practically hidden between the trees.
I turned, following him up the dirt road.In the distance, trees from the distant woods rose up behind the white-walled cottage with the wraparound porch.It was simple and well-cared for.Like someone spent a lot of time and effort on upkeep.It was smaller than the monstrous house I’d inherited.
And it was delightful.
I loved it on sight.
I parked and got out and paused there beside the old Caddy.The air here was clean, fresh.Full of pine and earth and something that seemed wholly his.Like he’d conjured this perfect little place from his own breath and magic.
“You live here?”I asked.
He nodded.
It was well off the beaten path.Far from town.On the edge of the woods where the old hickory tree was gasping for life.Where the Crossroads came to an intersection.
“You didn’t tell me you were so close to the Crossroads,” I said.
“It never came up in conversation.”He gave me one his winning grins as he headed to the steps of the wood porch.
I followed, clutching the grimoire against my chest.He opened the door and stood aside for me to enter.
Inside, it was no bachelor pad.
It was decorated with the same care as the outside upkeep.Quiet.Beautiful.Bamboo floors covered in a plush jewel-toned rug.Comfortable furniture that looked almost new.It smelled like cedar with traces of coffee and some citrus cleaner lingering in the air.
A small kitchen with a dining table and chairs.One hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom.
He was tidy.
Not a speck of dust.Not a pile of clutter anywhere.Only a stack of books on the coffee table.One with a bookmark sticking out of the top.Boots lined up at the door.The mantel hosted family photographs.His mother, father, brother.
It felt like stepping into someone’s private, personal space and I wasn’t sure I was worthy.
He dropped keys in a bowl on the table by the door, then caught me staring.
“It’s not as big as yours—”
“It’s perfect,” I said.
He kissed my cheek.“Make yourself at home.I’ll be ten minutes.”
And then he disappeared down the hallway.A few minutes later, water came on.
I was in his cottage.Tucked neatly into the side of the woods.And it was charming, like him.
I wandered the living room looking at family photos.One of young Owen when he was twelve, maybe thirteen, and his older brother, Colt, when they were on a fishing trip with their dad.Owen proudly holding a string of perch like he’d caught a great white shark.A family photo with Colt in his high school cap and gown.Owen’s graduation photo with his parents, but without his brother.
Everything about those photos said family, warmth, love.Everything about the photos on the mantel at my house said I was the center of Alice’s universe.
She had me and no one else.And something my dad said came back to me.She hid you because she was afraid your father would find you.
She hid me.Kept me close.Loved me from a distance.
Who was he?Where was he?And why did she hide me from him?
For half a second, I wondered what it would be like to be part of a family—a real one.
“Hey.”Owen’s soft voice pulled me back to the present.
