Page 155 of Before We Break

She gets a sour look on her face, demurely folding her hands in front of her. “None that have panned out.”

“I want to put in a formal offer. Ten thousand above asking if we can close quickly.”

She makes a sweeping motion for us to follow her into the kitchen, then she hands me a stack of paperwork with the listing and disclosures. “I would be remiss if I didn’t advise you to get an agent.”

“But?”

“I’ll be frank,” she says. “The sellers are eager to close. And at ten thousand dollars over asking, I can’t in good conscience turn you away.” She purses her lips and straightens, adjusting the sleeves of her pristine white blouse. “Look. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I heard what Hayden said at the town meeting. Thank you for taking care of my son when I couldn’t.”

I roll up the papers and stuff them into my back pocket, crossing my arms in front of me. I should keep my mouth shut and let bygones be bygones, but Hayden deserves someone to stand up for him. If that means I lose out on the house, at least I’ll know I did the right thing.

“Let’s call a spade a spade. You abandoned your son in the worst moment of his life because you were too worried about your image. I don’t need your thanks, but Hayden deserves an apology. As do Lexi and Clio.”

She rolls her lips together and stares at a spot on the wall. “You’re right. I have a lot to atone for—more than you know. I can start by accepting your offer, if you’re still interested.”

I recognize the look of misery on her face, and though I don’t usually relish anyone else’s discomfort, I’m content to let her stew in it.

I snatch a chocolate chip cookie off the platter. “Where do I sign?”

Karen gives us a full rundown of the offer process, and we agree to meet later in the week to finalize the paperwork, but first I have to stop by the bank.

On the way out, Emma pauses on the sidewalk near my truck. She elbows me as I dig in my pocket for the key fob.

“It must’ve been difficult to let go of something so beautiful,” she whispers.

“You been watching Pretty Woman?” I ask.

She nods toward a figure lingering on the front stoop. “Something like that.”

Clio’s hand trails along the front porch railing as she surveys the house. Her gaze lands on me, and my throat clogs. A restlessness takes hold, and I long to close the distance, but there’s still a massive canyon between us.

I give her a tight smile and a nod, and she returns the smile with one of her own, but it’s not the bright one I’ve been longing to see. She lifts her hand and waves, letting it slowly drop down to her side once more. The ache in my chest grows with each dispassionate gesture.

“Sorry I’m late.” Lexi jogs up the front walkway, drawing Clio’s attention. Pure joy radiates out of her like golden hour at the cliffside, and a rush of determination sweeps through me, fortifying my resolve.

That smile will be mine again, come hell or high water.

FORTY-FIVE

THE LONG GAME

♫ What If I Love You - Gatlin

CLIO

“I can’t believe I have to work on your birthday.” Quinn pulls a dramatic pout and slides my coffee across the counter. It’s my usual, but she added extra whipped topping and rainbow sprinkles.

“Wait. I almost forgot.” She pulls a single pink-and-white candle out of her apron pocket and places it in the middle of the whipped cream swirl. With a flick of the lighter, she tells me to make a wish.

I’ve made countless wishes over the years, on dandelions and shooting stars, birthday candles and wishing wells. None of them have come to fruition, but I keep wishing all the same. It’s part of the whimsy of it all. Life can beat you down sometimes, but if you look close, you’ll find little sparks of joy all around you—like pennies on the sidewalk or extra sprinkles on your morning coffee put there by a friend who loves you.

I stare at the flickering flame.

I could wish to forget, but there’s no solace in that, and I don’t have any regrets about the time we spent together.

I could wish for a second chance, but the heartbreak would only hurt worse the second time around.

When you lose someone, whether they’re across the hall or six feet underground, the hardest part isn’t the loss; it’s the missing them that lingers in the aftermath.