Page 122 of All The Ways to Miss You

“Someplace special.” He squeezes my hand.

I think I know. I think he’s driving us to my special spot by the lake. What I’ve remembered is our special spot. The one place in all of Chicago I claimed for myself when I moved here. It was another message my heart was sending me that I was too broken to hear.

Except ten minutes later, that’s not where the SUV stops. I open the back door and step out into the street to find Ozzy’s little house. Evan joins my side as the car pulls away. He twists an arm around mine, leading me through the open gate and up the salted walkway. Snow is starting to stick to the grass.

“Evan,” I protest, tugging him in the opposite direction, but he won’t relent.

Lights are on inside, and I’m shocked to see curtains have already been hung in the windows, and the yard’s neater than I remember. I haven’t allowed myself to run this street since Ozzy told me the bad news.

Worried we’re trespassing, I whisper, “Ozzy sold it. Someone’s home. Let’s go.”

Evan beams at me. “It’s okay. I know the owner.”

My brow furrows when he slides a key into the door and it unlocks. I follow him inside, mentally putting together the pieces.

“You! You bought this place?” I point at him, my anger flaring.

“I bought it, yes, but I bought it for you.”

“What?” My gaze bounces around the room as I try to make sense of the scene.

There’s minimal furniture. Paint buckets and various tools abound, and hanging plastic closes off the adjoining rooms. I’m standing in a construction site.

I look up at Evan, my voice strained. “This is where you’ve been staying?”

“Only so I could fix it up. And it’s been . . .” He pauses and shakes his head. “It’s been a disaster. I’m terrible at it, but I’m learning.”

I laugh and cover my mouth, but as I consider the scenario, I become serious. “Evan Wade, are you trying to make up with me by buying me a house?” I fold my arms.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his tux. His gaze drops to the floor before he looks back from under his dark lashes. “What I did was epically wrong, and I’m very sorry.”

“Hmph.” I glide past him to inspect the other rooms, to see what he’s done but also to give myself a moment to soak up his gift.

The bedrooms and bathrooms are untouched, thank God. I head to the kitchen. He’s been cleaning up. A pile of construction trash sits in the corner. I stop at the sink and grip the cold edges of the porcelain. Closing my eyes, I still and listen to what my soul’s telling me. With my heart pounding wildly, I spin to face him and tell him what it’s saying.

“You can’t just buy me off. It’ll take a lot more than this to make things right,” I say, frowning.

“I agree.” He nods but looks determined.

“It’ll take some white marble counters.” I keep my tone serious.

He cocks his head and grins before taking a step forward. “Yeah?”

“It’ll take refinishing the wood floors.” I point at the scratched and dusty hardwood.

He appears more confident with the next step, his smile growing.

“And a hell of a lot of new tile and paint. And it might take a really, really long time.”

He reaches for me, his fingers sliding seductively around my hips, gathering me close. His eyes become hooded when he says, “We—I mean, the house—can be a work in progress, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He leans in to kiss me, but I place a hand on his chest and ease him away. I’ve spotted something else that needs an explanation before this goes any further.

“And finally, you need to explain what this means.” I pick up the red spatula from the counter and wave it in front of his face, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Many memories have returned, but not this one. This is the spatula from my box. The one item he didn’t talk about the last time we chatted. He must have brought it here, though I don’t understand why.

Evan tosses his head back in a deep, brilliant laugh. His hair falls forward across his forehead when his insightful eyes meet mine. “I’ll give you one guess what we used that for, and it wasn’t for cooking.”