Page 156 of Dream Chaser

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Nova

February

Ipushed Grandma’s front door open and was immediately hit with the smell of dust and cedar. The air inside felt cold and still, like the house had been frozen in time, waiting for me to return.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt, I faced Ale, who stood by the front door, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the foyer.

“Welcome.” I smiled. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

I grabbed his hand and steered him toward the living room. Luckily, Preston hadn’t touched it. Everything was the same: a folded crocheted blanket draped over the arm of the couch, framed photographs on the mantel.

“It’s cozy,” Ale said. “May I?”

He picked up a picture from my high school graduation and glanced at me as if looking for differences. Then he smiled.

I nudged him. “What?”

“You were cute.”

“Were?” I pouted. “Not anymore?”

Chuckling, he pulled me closer by the waist. “Now you’re stunning.” He returned the picture to the mantel and picked up the photo of my grandparents on their wedding day.

“Your grandparents, right?”

“Yep. John and Dorothy Lockhart. I love this photo. They looked so happy.”

“Despite barely smiling,” Ale said. “I’ve always wondered why people in the past always looked so serious in pictures.”

“Life was hard, I guess. They were happy together, right until the end. Grandpa got sick first, and my grandma died of a stroke shortly after. I still remember our last conversation.”

He set the picture back on the mantel. “What did she say?”

“That she hoped I’d visit the house even if she was no longer there. It’s like she knew she didn’t have much time left. This house has always been my happy place. Once I’ve saved enough money, I’d love to fix it.”

Ale brushed hair off my face. “You will. The town must be beautiful in the summer.”

“Any time that’s less cold.” I shivered, rubbing my arms. “Tea?”

“Sure. I’ll bring the groceries,” Ale said.

He kissed my uninjured cheek and strode out of the room. I shamelessly admired his broad back and toned backside, then headed to the kitchen and gathered pots and pans, clearing space on the island to make us sandwiches.

A minute later, Ale appeared. He set the bags on the kitchen counter, then nodded to the cabinets on the floor under the window. “Are those the cabinets your grandpa built?”

“They are.” I filled the kettle with water. “I wanted to put them back, but didn’t have time.”

Ale crossed to the window and crouched beside the cabinets. “I brought tools. Want me to hang them after I change the locks?”

“Ale, it’s too much work.”

“Didn’t we decide to spend the night here? There’s time.”

Unsaid words sat on my tongue—that he’d already done so much for me, that just being with him was enough—but his tender look made me swallow them.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do that after we eat. I’ll help.”