you fixed this place up, you could easily move out here instead of living above our garage,” she says.
“You ready to get rid of me so soon?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hardly,” she says, pressing her lips together to hide a smile. Her cheeks flush, and with the light from the lantern, she looks so vulnerable and beautiful.
An image pops into my mind of us coming out here on Sundays and in the evenings after work, spending our mornings out on the lake or the dock. Maybe sitting on the back porch playing cards or checkers and watching the leaves change.
“I think you could make a life for yourself here, that’s all,” she says. “This place could really be something special with a little bit of love.”
I look around and know that she’s right. This place has always been special, and I’ve been avoiding it for far too long. Maybe it was fate that brought us back here in this rainstorm. A place for new beginnings and a fresh start.
“Hey, look at this,” she says. She sets the lantern on the bedside table and grabs something from the closet.
“What?” I ask.
She’s so excited, I half expect to see a stash of gold nuggets or something, but when she turns around, my heart stops. She’s holding my grandfather’s old guitar case.
She places it carefully on the bed and snaps it open.
I hold my breath, memories rushing back. The honey-colored guitar sits inside the case, as perfect and well-worn as the day he died.
“Did he play?” she asks. She runs her hand across the smooth surface of the Gibson guitar.
I move next to her to sit down on the bed. My heart is so tight in my chest, I can hardly breathe.
“He did,” I say. My voice cracks, and I have to look away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks, placing her hand on mine. “Did I upset you somehow?”
I shake my head and close my eyes, images of my grandfather sitting on the front porch playing through my memory.
“I’m okay,” I say, squeezing her hand. “It’s just hard coming face to face with all these memories.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she says. “Want me to put it away?”
I look over at the old guitar, half its strings missing now. God, I miss him so much it’s physically painful. My grandpa was my anchor in a chaotic life where there was never enough to go around. He always had time for me. Lord knows what might have become of me if he hadn’t been there for me every time I needed him.
And the one time he needed me most…
Tears finally push through my resolve and I have to stand up so that Jo won’t see. Crying in front of a woman isn’t exactly the sexiest thing a guy can do. I don’t want her think I’m weak.
“Colton?” she asks. She moves behind me and places her arms around my waist.
The warmth of her against me means the world in this moment.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s too late to hide these emotions from her. The tears are flowing freely, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
She holds me tighter, placing her head against my back. “It’s okay,” she says. “I understand how difficult it can be to lose someone you loved so much. Do you want to talk about it?”
This is usually the type of thing I avoid talking to any girlfriend about. I want to be the one who makes them laugh. Someone they can have a good time with without worrying about things getting messy or emotional.
But things have been different with Jo from the very beginning. I want to open up to her, but we’ve just gotten started. I don’t want to bring her down when things were just getting good and happy between us.
“No. It's nothing, really,” I say. I force a smile and turn around, taking her in my arms. “Let’s go back by the fire. You’ve got to be getting cold.”
“A little,” she says. She lifts up and kisses me on the cheek. “Just know that I’m here for you if you need to talk about it.”
I walk over and shut the guitar case, letting my hand linger for a moment on the clasp. The last thing I want to do is burden her with my sadness. Especially tonight.
“I can think of a few things I’d love to do more than talking,” I