Page 20 of Wonderstruck

I nodded. “She told me it was one ofher skating outfits—the one she waswearing when she met Dad, actually. He drove the Zambonis at the rink where she was training for her first sectional competition. It was her first one since she’d moved here from Domme, this small town in the south of France where she grew up.”

She’d thrown an overskirt on top ofthe dress to make it look more bridal, burnt organza flowers trailing the fabric that was hemmed with silk trim.

“It’s probably in here somewhere,” Isaid, thinking out loud, before passing itback to Cora and setting my eyes on the spot next to—

The thud that sounded made my stomach drop like it never had before.

For a moment I thought the ceiling was caving in, that the girls and I would be buried under plasterboard and dust in a matter of seconds.

"Ow, fuck!"

But once Finn's muffled curse echoed through the halls, things cleared up.

I looked around at the girls faces, their eyes on the ceiling before falling onto me. And with those few glances, everything was said.

I huffed. "I'll go and check he's not dead then, shall I?"

Cora's sickly sweet smile beamed up at me. "If you insist."

I blew her a middle finger kiss before I sucked in a breath and left the room. My steps paused before climbing up the attic ladder, purely because being alone with Finn was an even worse fate than if I had to tackle cleaning this house on my own. But again, that guilt stabbed me in the heart. I'd sent him up there, so checking he was still beathing was the decent thing to do.

The attic creaked under my feet as I reached the top step. For a second, I just stood there, hand on the frame, heart thudding way too fast for someone checking on anoise.

But it wasn’t just any thud. And it wasn’t just anyone.

“Finn?” I called softly. “Please don’t be, like… dead. Or possessed. I’m really not in the mood.”

A muffled groan came from behind a stack of boxes. Then his head popped up—messy hair, dusty sweater, looking like he’d just lost a fight with a moth colony.

“Oh good,” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. “You’re alive. And you’ve made friends with the insulation.”

Finn blinked at me, then smiled in that crooked, lopsided way that made everything worse. “It looked comfy.”

I fought so hard to contain my smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “Just tried to sit on a chair that, uh, forgot how to be a chair.”

I stepped inside, arms crossed more for self-protection than attitude, lingering by a stack of boxes. “Next time, give me a heads-up before you go falling through the ceiling. The last thingI need is for this house to fall apart.” As I looked back at him, his smile only grew. "What?"

He shrugged, studying me. “I'm just surprised you came to check on me after banishing me up here.” he quipped, eyebrows raised. There was something soft in the way he said it—like he hadn’t expected that.

“I heard a crash. I’m nosy. It’s not that deep.”

“Still.” He paused. “Thanks.”

Our eyes met for a second longer than was comfortable. I looked away first.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and stood, glancing around like he suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone. “So, what brings you to the land of cobwebs and forgotten Christmas decor?”

“You, apparently,” I said, then immediately wished I hadn’t. “I mean, the thud. That’s all. Just making sure you weren’t bleeding from the head.”

He laughed quietly. “No blood. Just bruised pride.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. “Sounds worse to be honest.”

He looked at me then—really looked—and something shifted in the air, almost imperceptible, like the first melt of ice. A polar ice cap cracking.

“You can stay, if you want,” he said, not meeting my eyes now. “It’s weirdly peaceful up here.”

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