Page 83 of Breaking Point

When I step into the guest house, I decide to shower, rinsing off and quickly scrubbing my hair. Crew still isn’t back by the time I change into a long tee-shirt and shorts. I make a routine of washing and drying my face and then lacing my hair into a braid as I settle in bed.

I still don’t know how this… sleeping arrangement is going to work, but I pause as the door opens downstairs. Crew checks the whole house before I hear his footsteps on the stairs. He appears just as I tie a pretty pink bow off in my hair.

“Hi,” I sigh.

“Hey.”

When he steps fully into the room, it suddenly feels a hundred times smaller. Even more so when he walks to his duffle and reaches inside for a change of clothes. I see him casually unlatch his holster, hiding the gun beneath a couch cushion almost out of habit.

It makes me wonder whether he always sleeps armed.

“Your mom asked if I could help with the garden tomorrow morning.”

He chuckles. “You’ll probably be at that all day.”

I smile, looking down at my hands. “I don’t mind.”

“Think I might try to work on some of the reno for my Dad. He’s got an appointment later this week too. So I have a feeling I’ll keep busy.”

I nod slowly, scratching at the bandage around my hand. “I’ll take the couch, Crew.”

He sweeps his hair back, eyes glowing with amusement. “Goodnight, Liv.”

Liv. He hasn’t called me that before.

Before I can react, he steps into the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I have a feeling he’d move me if I tried to sleep on the couch, so without another thought, I lift the duvet and crawl into bed, switching off the light before allowing exhaustion to pull me under.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Olivia

My mother always kept tulips or other delicate flowers in the garden in front of Aspen House. Every year, we’d plant the bulbs and watch the flowers spring up. Having the dirt beneath my nails, the sun on my skin, and the ground beneath my knees brings the memories back. I can smell the earth, the sweet scent of soil and life… and I practically feel my mother’s presence with me. Even now.

Theresa smiles as she pats the damp ground and covers the plants with a white tarp to protect them from the chill. We’re planting cover crops and winter peas.

Weed, dig, bury, pat, water.

“You seem lost in thought.” Her voice brings me back to the present.

“Sorry. I was…” I feel an excuse on the edge of my tongue, but for some reason, I don’t feel the need to lie. “My mother and I used to do this. A loooong time ago, before she passed.”

“How long?” she wonders aloud.

Years ago, the question might’ve stung. But the pain isn’t as sharp, the wound not so sore. “Five years,” I say as I finish my pile. “Car accident.”

She nods appreciatively, moving down to start her next patch. “Losing someone is hard. A parent especially. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

The cool wind whips across my back, and I sit upright, stretching my arms over my head as I spot Crew on the opposite side of the yard. He’s carrying a thick stack of lumber over his shoulder, muscles flexing as he carries the materials to the guest house. He’s been lugging back and forth all morning, and despite the chill, he’s glistening with sweat.

“Crew says you own a business.”

Concentrate, I remind myself.

“I do. An event planning business. Mostly weddings and bachelorettes at the moment, but I’m hoping to do more.”

“Do you like it?”

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