Page 79 of Their Last Resort

“No one was living here before I moved in. I put a lot of work into it a few years ago. The inside is nicer—”

“Iloveit.”

I can tell by her tone that she’s being serious. I squeeze her hand and start to walk us up the well-worn path in the sandy grass.

“Did you get any flooding this week?” she asks.

“No. Fortunately. The house is built up enough that I was spared. But I lost power, so unfortunately, I had to toss out everything that was in my fridge. We’ll see what we can cobble together. I thought I’d have time to go to the grocery store at some point ...”

“We’ll make do,” Paige says with a reassuring smile.

We head up the stairs, and I pull open the screen door, wincing as the hinges squeal.

Paige doesn’t notice, though. The defects don’t seem to jump out at her. Maybe she doesn’t see them at all.

As we walk through the front door, I explain the layout. There’s a main corridor that runs the entire length of the house, leading from the front door to the back door. On the left-hand side, there’s a living room divided from the kitchen by a large island. Off the hallway on the right is a bedroom that I’m currently using as a study. The main bedroom is at the far end of the house on the right.

She heads to the living room first. It’s more modern in here. Wide-plank wood floors and an open-concept layout.

“I like that table.”

She’s pointing to the coffee table.

“Thanks, it came with the house, but I sanded it down and stained it with a lighter finish.”

“And the chair?”

“Thrifted.”

“I love the bright-blue fabric.”

I rub the back of my neck, somewhat self-conscious. “I had it reupholstered. The lady who did it picked that fabric out for me. If you sawthe way I grew up, the house, I mean ... you’d understand why I didn’t mind the color.”

“Is your parents’ house a bit boring?”

“Boringdoesn’t do it justice.”

The kitchen is open and airy. There are no cabinets over the counters, just shelves with white plates and coffee mugs stacked in neat rows.

“Ah,here’sthe Cole I know,” Paige teases, referring to the dishes. “Look at how perfect this all is.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I reply defensively.

She shifts a mug an inch to the right and waits for my reaction. I mostly keep my eyes from twitching, but then she laughs and moves it back.

“I don’t mind it,” she promises. “Better that than living with a total slob.”

“Your dorm wasn’t messy.”

“No, I’m pretty clean, but I probably won’t live up to your exacting standards.”

“Maybe we’ll rub off on each other ...”

She looks back at me over her shoulder, studying me for a moment with a shadow of a smile across her lips. “Maybe ...”

Then her gaze trails to the large window at the back of the kitchen, the place where I sit in the mornings to drink my first cup of coffee. The sunrise from that perch is unreal. Hopefully I’ll get to show it to Paige.

“I can take you down to the beach if you want?”

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