Page 48 of His Build

She bent down to pick it up, stomach still fluttering from the uncanny similarity of the view. She set the photo down, then paused and lifted it up again. It was Graydon, as a teen, with three other people who could only be his sister and parents.

Lucy’s heart clenched. The young Graydon—maybe 15 or 16—stood to the side of the rest of the family. He had his arms folded and looked annoyed at having his picture taken, but still he leaned in close to the rest of his family.

His sister stood next to him with a wide grin just like Graydon’s, though her mouth was full of braces. Behind her stood a lankier, more clean-shaven version of Graydon. His dad. Next to him, with her arms clasped around her husband’s waist, was Graydon’s mother. She had a swath of curly brown hair and sparkling grin, and though she was playfully hugging her husband, her eyes were on Graydon. She was looking at his sullen teenage expression with such tenderness Lucy’s throat felt thick, her eyes pricking with tears.

“That’s them,” Graydon said, startling her so that she almost dropped the photo again.

She placed it on the table, cheeks burning. “I’m sorry—I—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “Really. I don’t know why I keep the photo in here. I should bring it to my office where I can see it more.”

But he made no move to pick it up. He kept his eyes on it, his temple pulsing. She reached over and took his hand, the move involuntary.

“When was it taken?”

“A month before the accident. Mom was trying to gross me out by hugging my dad. She said I was going to be next.”

Lucy’s eyes went back to the photo. “You all seem so happy.”

“We were,” Graydon said. “At least, I think we were. I can’t seem to remember anything now except bits and pieces. They’ve been gone longer than we were together.”

His voice had gone gruff, and he cleared his throat.

Lucy squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you show me the barn?” she said softly. This time, she wanted to see it with him.

* * *

They talkedlogistics as they cut across the field, and Lucy was glad for the distraction from whatever feelings they’d both been having in that spare room.

“You should really take some money—it’s not like he wouldn’t want to pay you,” Lucy said.

“I’m not using it right now. Besides, I like Alfred. I don’t want him wasting his money. I also want to make sure he spends it at the lake house.”

She laughed. “Good point,” she said.

Graydon held Lucy’s hand as they strode through the bursts of wildflowers. Between their shadows stretching across the field; the scent of the fresh country air, and the crunch of the long grass under her feet, Lucy wondered if this, right here, might be the most beautiful moment ever conceived.

When they reached the barn, Graydon unhooked the unlocked padlock from the door and rumbled it open. The last of the sun poured into a giant, dark space with slats of golden light sliding through its planks at the back. It smelled sweetly of hay and an old echo of horses and leather.

“There’s enough space here to hold all of Alfred’s furniture and then some,” she said.

“Told you it was big,” he laughed.

Lucy’s eyes went to a ladder leading up to a hayloft at the back of the barn.

“I used to love exploring these kinds of places as a kid,” she said. “Finding secret hideaways away from the world.” She suddenly wanted nothing more than to climb up and take a look. “Can I see it?”

“Just how much are you hoping to store?” he asked, and Lucy gave him a little snort. She was already cutting across the barn to the ladder built against the wall.

The ladder was old but rickety, and as she climbed the final few rungs, her stomach went fluttery. Once at the top she took several steps back into the loft.

“You scared of heights, Ms. Fulham?” Graydon asked as he came up behind her, his eyebrow up.

“No,” Lucy said.

His eyebrow shot higher.

“Okay, maybe a little. But would a real scaredy-cat do this?” She grinned and did a few twirls.

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