Page 19 of Since the Day We Kissed

Sighing, Ethan shut the fridge and looked at Hero, who began lapping water from the pot he’d set to catch the leaky ceiling’s drips.

“Hero, no.” He gently tugged the dog away from the pot, wincing as water sloshed over the rim. After dumping it into the sink, he placed the pot back on the counter. “Stay put, all right? Got your stuff in the truck.”

He headed to the truck and grabbed Hero’s bag of supplies along with his own. Back inside, he dropped his bags by the door and unpacked Hero’s supplies on the kitchen counter.

The dog watched him, tail swishing.

“You’re the lucky one,” Ethan said as he filled Hero’s food bowl and set it down. “You get dinner tonight.”

Hero immediately dug into his food, while Ethan filled a water bowl and placed it beside the food.

Ethan then opened a cupboard, searching for a clean glass. He found one, sort of. A film of dust coated its surface. With a sigh, he ran it under the tap, wiping it clean with his thumb before filling it with water. He was about to take a sip when—

Right, meds.

He placed the glass on the table and walked into the living room, which was dark and filled with the shadowy shapes of furniture he once knew well. Unzipping the side pocket of his bag, he fished out the familiar orange bottle, its rattle a reminder of the battles he still fought.

Back in the kitchen, he shook a pill into his palm and swallowed it dry only to wash it down with a gulp of water. The routine was so ingrained now, he barely thought about it anymore. But tonight, in this house full of memories, the act felt heavier somehow.

As he set the glass down, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and set it on the table, pressing speaker when he saw the voicemail.

“Mr. Bennett, Steve Clark here—your father’s attorney.” The voice crackled through the speaker. “Look, I hate to do this over voicemail, but we’ve hit a snag. Seems we’re missing your father’s house deed.”

Ethan froze.

What’s he talking about?

He’d spoken with Mr. Clark’s office just last week. Everything should’ve been handled by now.

“I realize this complicates your plans to sell—no deed, no sale. You’ll need to check if your father stored it somewhere at home. If we can’t locate it, we’ll have to go through probate, the county recorder’s office, and so on. Best case, we’re looking at six to twelve months. Worst case? One to two years if the process drags.”

Ethan’s thoughts spiraled as the voicemail continued.

“Our office will be staying open later until about four tomorrow if you find anything. Call me when you can, and we’ll figure this out.”

The lawyer’s voice faded, replaced by a resoundingBEEP!

His father had never been the organized type, but the deed to the house? That was another level of carelessness.

Hero trotted over, pressing his head against Ethan’s leg, and Ethan absentmindedly patted him.

It’s gotta be here somewhere.

Leaning back against the sink, Ethan scanned the cluttered kitchen—dust clinging to shelves, drawers crammed with junk, and a pile of unopened mail spilling from a wicker basket. He rifled through the mail—no deed, just old bills and junk from the past year. He tossed them back into the basket, then sat back down and buried his face in his hands.

Ethan figured he’d come down from Virginia, tie things up with the house, and be done in a few days—maybe a week, tops. But who knew how long it’d take to find that deed?

He didn’t want to be here.

Kara’s face flashed in his mind.

His chest tightened, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts at the thought of seeing her again.

He wasn’t ready to face her.

Not after the way he left all those years ago. She probably hated him. She’d likely moved on by now, too.

He shook the thought away.

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