Page 106 of Once Upon a Fall

I blink a few times, trying to push back the burning behind my eyes.

“Yes,” I lie.

“Do you want to go home?”

Home.

The word hits me like a punch in the gut.

He means the inn, of course. It’s just something people say when they’re ready to leave somewhere.

Because Dean doesn’t have a home. I know that.

And standing here with his hand still around my waist, his eyes searching my face, I know exactly where I want mine to be.

And I can’t have it.

Dean

The prince’s kingdom was carried out in a truck. He was not permitted to help.

The following Monday, I stand outside my grandparents’ house and watch junk haulers remove all their things.

The beds, the couches, my grandma’s kitchen supplies. Everything they owned, all going.

I offered to help carry things out because it would give me something to do, but was told for insurance reasons I couldn’t.

So, I just have to stand here and watch them empty the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home.

I think the indigestion is back.

“Today’s the day, huh?” Wendell asks when he finds me on the porch.

“Yep,” I tell him.

“And then it goes up for sale?”

I just nod.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on the place all these years,” I tell him after we watch two men carry a floral-upholstered couch out to the truck.

“It was a pleasure,” says Wendell. “Vivian and Robert were great people.”

“They were,” I say, watching another guy carry out an armful of clothes still hanging from hangers.

I don’t really need to be here. It would probably be easier if I weren’t. I could be back at the inn, packing to leave tomorrow, but I felt like I needed to see this through.

Maybe it’s a goodbye of sorts. It feels like one.

Yep. Definitely indigestion.

Rosie offered to come with me, but all her guests checked out yesterday, and she needed to clean the inn before more guests arrived on Tuesday. Then she got a last-minute booking for a honeymoon night in the Sleeping Beauty room tonight, so she’s been making that room extra special.

She said one of the Walkers made the reservation, which means it could be a prank, but they paid in advance, so she’s preparing it just in case.

She hasn’t seemed like herself since Saturday night. She’s been a little quiet for Rosie—not one ramble—and when I asked her about it, she blamed a headache that won’t go away.

“Well,” Wendell says, holding out a hand, and I take it. “I guess this is goodbye.”