Page 227 of Money Reigns
Something inside me pulls tight.Too tight.I stand up straighter, as if that’ll help.
It’s ridiculous how fast my heart remembers.
It doesn’t care about the silence between us, or the heartbreak in this bedroom, or the months we didn’t speak. It seeshim.
My War, in a simple coat, crouching in the snow, teaching kids how to aim without hurting. It sees that, and it leaps.
“Don’t,” I whisper, palms pressing over my sternum like I can hold myself together. “Just because he’s good with them doesn’t mean—”
But the lie falls flat.
Of course it means something. I’ve seen men perform kindness. This isn’t that.This is War being careful with something small.
God help me, I love him most when he’s careful.
He was always careful with me, even when he was rough, I wassafe.
I step back from the window like it burned me.
I shouldn’t be looking.
I told myself I wouldn’t.
But he’s still here.
A knock at the door breaks the silence. It creaks open a moment later, and my mom steps in, bundled in her fleece cardigan.She holds a large thermos of cocoa and a stack of paper cups on a tray, steam curling from the spout.
She follows my line of sight to the window, then sets the tray on my dresser.
“I was going to ask you to bring this over to the workers,” she says softly. “But if you’re not ready yet, it’ll be downstairs.”
My stomach twists.
I stare at the tray. “Can’t Dean do it?”
She lifts a brow. “Dean’s already over there. He’s covered in paint and snow. You’re not.”
I hesitate. She softens
“You don’t have to say anything to him, Liv Bug. Just hand out the cocoa. That’s all.”
And then she’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and I sink onto the edge of the bed.
The tray waits. So does the window.
But I force myself to move, to choose clothes, to pull something over the ache still living under my skin.
I open the closet.
It’s cold out, I should wear jeans. A sweatshirt. Something that says nothing.
Instead… I reach for the dress.
It’s sage green, soft, long-sleeved with a gathered waist and a hem that brushes the top of my boots. War filled my closet with dresses like this. I stuffed this one into my suitcase the day I left.
He always used to grumble when I choose skirts in the cold.
