the sound of that just as much as she loved saying it. We’d told her after the funeral, knowing she deserved to know every day of her life that Beckett loved her so much he’d become her dad. He’d saved her life, but that was something we kept between the two of us.
Beckett kissed my cheek and started opening the boxes, laughing when he found one of Colt’s toys stashed in one of the pans. I loved that about him, the way he could talk about Colt and smile through the pain. He kept him alive in more ways than one. Through the zip lines, the pictures he hung around the house, the framed red leaf. He was never afraid to say his name, and more than once I’d come home to find him and Maisie snuggled up on the couch watching video clips of Colt.
I had yet to make it through one without crumbling. Maybe one day I’d be able to smile at the sound of Colt’s voice. For now, it was simply a reminder of what I’d lost and how empty everything felt without him.
Beckett kept us moving forward at a pace that was uncomfortable but manageable. He never let me wallow too long, but never let me ignore the pain, either. He pushed my boundaries and then backed off, and if not for him, I might have chosen to simply stop moving at all.
Maisie kept my heart beating.
Beckett kept me living.
I made sure they both knew I loved them every day.
It had taken almost all of the three months, but I finally read Beckett’s last letter, and that was what got me here, into this house he built for the four of us—that would now house three.
Love enough for the both of us. That’s what he’d said in the letter. And it spoke to my heart in a way nothing else could. Because that’s what Colt would have wanted. He would have wanted to move into this house and live our life with the guy we all loved.
The man who craved my words and owned my heart.
He’d signed that letter with his real name. The last words Chaos had spoken to me merged the two men I loved until I saw them both in the Beckett who was currently looking at my garlic press like it was a torture device.
“This drawer,” I told him, opening the one at my hip.
“Eyelash curler?” he asked, dropping it in the drawer.
“It’s for smoothies. Works great on strawberries.” I shrugged.
“Liar!” He laughed, then went back to unpacking.
I glanced out the window at the island and took a steadying breath as that ache ripped into me. Then I grabbed the next box and started unpacking, item by item, merging my life with Beckett’s. I moved forward because that’s where Beckett and Maisie were, and that’s what Colt would have wanted. After all, he was here, too, in every line of this house Beckett had built for him—for us.
I still heard echoes of his footsteps on the stairs, his laugh in the halls. There were even moments I swore I caught the scent of his sunshine-soaked hair, like he’d sneaked in for a hug and run off again before I could capture him fully. The bedroom Beckett kept for him was untouched except for the boxes we’d brought from my house. I wasn’t ready to go there yet, and that was okay.
There were too many memories I wasn’t ready to pack away. I’d taken one look at the helmet Colt had worn that first Halloween in the hospital and known I wouldn’t be able to make it through a single box.
But Maisie had grabbed the helmet and smiled, remembering when she’d traded with Colt to wear it that night.
He’d worn her halo.
Like they’d known they’d eventually switch roles.
Like it had been planned all along, and I’d simply missed the signs.
“Do you think the lake is frozen enough to walk on?” I asked Beckett.
He gave me that look—the one where he knew exactly what I was thinking—and then glanced out at the snowy lake. “I was out there yesterday, and the temps are even lower today. You should be fine. Want me to go with you?”
I shook my head. “No, I’d like to go alone. I think I’m ready.”
He simply nodded and then gave me the space I needed.
Methodically, I laced my boots, zipped my coat, and grabbed my hat and gloves on the way out. The air was brisk, the snow the light,