Page 11 of Big Risks

I hesitate, then nod. "Yeah, it’s made me curious on the history is all."

"A local boy from a few towns over that joined the military right out of high school. He and Rachel were sweet on each other since they were children."

"What happened to him?"

"He came back from his second tour different. Quiet. Withdrawn. Not uncommon with soldiers." She sighs. "He left town not long after. The rumor was to chase after Rachel but then she passed and he never came back."

After breakfast, I head toward the hardware store needing to get some knobs for drawers and replace a few that were past their prime. The bell above the door jingles as I enter, and I'm immediately enveloped in the smell of wood, metal, and animal feed.

I'm pretending to examine paint swatches when a small tornado in the form of Olivia, with her dark pigtails dancing, comes barreling around the corner, nearly colliding with my legs.

"Whoa there," I say, steadying her by the shoulders.

"Sorry!" she chirps, looking up at me. “Nurse Hailey! I'm playing hide and seek with my dad, but he's taking forever to find me."

"Olivia?" a familiar deep voice calls from another aisle. "Where'd you go, munchkin?"

Her eyes dancing with mischief, Olivia puts her finger to her lips. "Shh! I'm hiding!"

Walker rounds the corner, his expression shifting from concern to surprise when he sees me. "Oh. Hello again."

"Hi," I say, suddenly feeling awkward. "I was just looking for paint samples."

"For your... garden shed?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"For my kitchen, actually. The current color can only be described as 'Mustard's Revenge.'"

A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Sounds appetizing."

"Daddy!" Olivia abandons her hiding spot to wrap herself around Walker's legs. "I was hiding really good until I ran into Nurse Hailey. Did you know she bought the haunted house?

Walker winces. "Olivia—"

"Haunted?" I repeat, amused. "Is that what people are saying?"

"Kids' stuff," Walker mutters. "Town legends."

"I'm not scared of ghosts," Olivia announces proudly. "Daddy says they're just stories people make up when they can't explain things."

"Smart dad," I say, glancing at Walker, who looks uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

"Did you find everything you need?" he asks, clearly hoping to end our interaction.

I hold up a handful of paint samples. "Just browsing options. My walls are screaming for an intervention."

"If you need any recommendations..." he starts, then seems to think better of it.

"Yes?" I prompt, oddly pleased by his discomfort.

"Nothing. Just old houses can be tricky to paint. Plaster walls, uneven surfaces."

"Are you offering to help?" I can't resist teasing him a little.

His eyes widen slightly. "No, I—"

"Daddy's really good at painting!" Olivia interjects. "He painted my room pink with purple polka dots and it only took him three days!"

I bite back a laugh at Walker's pained expression. "Three days for polka dots? Impressive."

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