Page 81 of Your Place or Mine

I made my way down to the lower hall where I knew the back utility closet sat and used another set of spare keys I had that I stubbornly refused to hand over. She’d mentioned this issue in passing when talking to Riley. There was something about the water heater being older than us and the light fixture buzzing like it might catch fire one day. She needed a new switch.

I unlocked the old door with the key the Ludlowes had never changed out and stepped into the cold, stale dark.

One bulb flickered overhead, casting more shadow than light.

Perfect.

I set up the work light, clicked it on, and rolled my sleeves.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t flowers or some big grand gesture.

It involved rewiring an outlet, replacing the fixture, and tightening the bolts on the hinges so the door wouldn’t drag anymore.

I worked in silence, the steady rhythm of effort grounding me. It felt good, somehow, to do something for her without expectation. Without an agenda.

Just to show her Icould.

Just to prove to myself I hadn’t completely turned into the man I never wanted to become—closed off, angry, afraid of his own damn heart.

The hallway glowed warm and steady when I stepped back and flicked the new light switch.

No hum.

No buzz.

Just clean, solid light.

I stared at it briefly, heart thudding harder than it should’ve.

And then I turned and headed back up the stairs, tools in hand, chest tight but lighter than before.

I didn’t know if she’d notice.

Didn’t know if she’d care.

But I’d keep showing up.

Because for once in my life… I didn’t want to keep pushing someone away just because they saw more in me than I did.

Chapter Twenty

Lydia

I woke up to birds’ tweeting and the sun bleeding through the edges of the curtain I hadn’t remembered closing.

The air was crisp, the kind of spring morning that makes your lungs feel scrubbed clean with sweetness when you inhale.

It was the first time in a while I didn’t feel like my bones were made of concrete.

I’d cried.

I’d grieved.

And now… I was still here.

My mom wasn’t.

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