Page 64 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“That all you care about?” his cousin said. “Not even checking in on your own blood?”

“You’re not going to cost my friend a lot of money if you’re all banged up,” Ray retorted.

His cousin rolled his eyes, checking over the window. “Looks fine to me…luckily for you.”

They drove in silence for a while until they pulled into the salvage yard. The place looked like a junkyard had a baby with an antique store with piles of weathered wood and rusted metal alongside pristine fixtures saved from old buildings. “Want me to do the talking?” Ray asked.

“When have you ever known me to need help talking to Fitz?” Luke countered.

Ray snorted. “Fair point. But you’ve got that look that makes small children cry, so maybe dial it back a notch before we go in.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“You’ve got several, and this one’s in the top three most terrifying.”

Luke exhaled slowly, consciously relaxing his face. “Better?”

“Marginally. You still look like you’re planning where to hide my body, but at least now it seems like you’d give me a quick death.”

Ray’s cousin let out a chuckle and Luke felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Ray had that effect—annoying as hell but impossible to stay mad at for long. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The three men unloaded the window carefully, Ray chattering the whole time about nothing important, filling the silence the way he always did. Fitz came shuffling out of his office, an old man with hands as gnarled as driftwood but eyes sharp as tacks.

“Didn’t expect to see this beauty again,” he said, running a hand over the frame. “Buyer’s remorse?”

“Something like that,” Luke replied, not wanting to get into the details. “Any chance you’ll take it back?”

Fitz scratched his stubbled chin. “Might do. For a restocking fee.”

The negotiation that followed was familiar territory, comfortable in its predictability. This, Luke understood: the back and forth, the dance of value and worth, each side knowing the steps by heart. When it was done, Luke had lost a hundred bucks but gained a receipt and a promise that Fitz would keep an eye out for other windows that might suit a bookshop.

“Sorry about the window, man,” Ray said as they all climbed back into the truck. “And, you know, about bringing up Claire.”

Luke shrugged. “Forget it.”

“It’s just…” Ray hesitated, starting the engine but not putting the truck in gear yet. “I don’t want to see you get burned again, like your old pa did by your ma.”

Luke tensed.

“You’ve been holed up in that boathouse of yours for years,” he continued, “barely speaking to anyone who wasn’t paying for a tour, and now suddenly you’re all in with this London girl. I worry, that’s all. Outsiders have a habit of tearing families apart in these parts; you know that more than most.”

The concern in Ray’s voice was genuine enough to stop Luke’s automatic dismissal. Instead, he stared out at the salvage yard, at the pieces of the past waiting to be repurposed or forgotten.

“Sophie doesn’t feel like an outsider anymore,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time, the words feeling important somehow, like saying them aloud made them more true. “She’s not looking to change the lake. She’s looking to be part of it.”

The thought brought comfort, although it was comfort with a “but” hanging at the end, unspoken yet felt. Luke shoved the thought away, focusing instead on the lake as it came back into view, blue and steady and reliable as ever. The water didn’t change, even when everything around it did. That was something to hold on to.

“What next?” Ray asked after they’d dropped his cousin off and approached the turn toward the boathouse. “Back to the renovation?”

Luke nodded. “Looks like I’ve got some floor-to-ceiling shelves to build.”

“To her exact specifications, I’m guessing,” Ray added with a smirk.

“Shut up and drive, Ray.”

When the boathouse came into view a few moments later, Sophie was visible through the window with a pencil tucked behind her ear and a determined expression as she measured something. Luke felt that knot in his gut loosen slightly. She looked up, spotted the truck, and her face broke into a smile that hit him right in the chest. Damn, he needed to touch her, smell her, feel her right in that moment.

Luke hopped out of Ray’s truck and strode to the boathouse.