Page 5 of Unbearable

“I wasn’t really planning on dealing with the cabin while I was here.” My hand found my necklace, twisting the charm that once belonged to my mother.

Grandpa hadn’t lived in the cabin in years after moving into the nursing home with Gram several years back. I had no idea how much they kept up with it.

“You are going to need at least a month, maybe two, if you want to fix it up,” Sawyer said.

I wasn’t eager to fix it up, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of leaving it to be condemned, erasing years of memories in the process.

“Looks like I am renovating a cabin then.” My fingers rubbed at my throbbing temples, thinking about what was to come from taking on such a big project. I sat back down at the table and Dorian leaned over, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze.

“How long are you in town for?” he asked.

“I was going to leave in a week, but I have a month off work,” I replied, giving him a weak smile.

Though I had planned to spend that time off work, I never intended to spend it entirely in Woodstone. My plan was to visit for a week and then enjoy a staycation in Seattle for the remaining three weeks. Then I could return to work refreshed, energized, and ready to secure the promotion I had been working toward.

Over the past few years, I’ve dedicated myself to completing architecture school, securing an internship, passing my licensure exams, and proving my worth in amale-dominated industry. With a promotion on the horizon, I was determined to seize the opportunity.

However, indulging in an overpriced pedicure, binge-watching my favorite shows for the umpteenth time, reading a few romance novels, and pretending to be carefree would have to wait. I needed to stay here to ensure the cabin didn’t fall into total disrepair forever. If I didn’t deal with it now, I knew I’d never muster the will to return to Woodstone Falls for it later. Coming home for the funeral was hard enough.

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, and I might even be able to finish before the month was over.

“I guess saving up my vacation time worked out. I’ll go look at it tomorrow,” I said, glancing at my three brothers.

They continued talking, but it became background noise to the emotions running rampant in me. I thrived on routine, excelling at sticking to what is safe and predictable. Spontaneous decisions, like spending a month in my hometown on a whim, was not my usual style.

But maybe this was exactly what I needed. I could restore the cabin, spend quality time with my niece and family, enjoy some good lattes, and return home in a month feeling accomplished.

After a yawn, I decided it was time for me to call it a day. I stood from my seat. “I’m beat. I’m going back to Dad’s to get some rest,” I said.

Dorian and Colt both nodded.

“I’ll catch up with you in the morning. I have plans tonight, so don’t wait up,” Sawyer murmured, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. Despite his financial success, he chose to stay at Dad’s ranch whenever he was in town, drawn to its familiarity and comfort.

We all exchanged our good nights and went our separate ways.

I stepped into my childhood home and found the living space remained entirely unchanged since the last time I was there. It embodied the quintessential ranch house.

Not the modern, classy type, but the nineties, could-probably-use-some-updating kind. However, it had a lot of charm, with the wood floors and coordinating beams and beautiful original windows. The furniture, while outdated, was the same as when I was kid and was comfortable as hell.

Since my mom passed away, my dad hadn’t shown much inclination to change anything in the house, aside from updating the pictures on the walls. It seemed as though he feared altering anything would erase the memories of her in this space.

It was almost two decades ago now when she was driving home on a rainy Friday evening after a quick trip to the store, and she was T-boned in a hit-and-run accident.

They suspected the other driver was intoxicated and fled the scene. There were muddy footprints leading from another car that had crashed to the driver’s side door of my mom’s car, but the footprints went right back to the tire tracks that disappeared.

The perpetrator was never apprehended. “Limited resources,” the cops had said. They assumed it was someone passing through town and never investigated further.

The whole incident is what ignited Colt’s determination to become a detective himself.

It still racked my brain how one tiny, fleeting moment could wield such a profound impact that continued to affect the entirety of one’s existence. That one evening my mom decided to drive to the store later than she usually did was the one evening someone decided to drink and drive, subsequently hitting her and ending her life. Leaving children without a mother and a husband, a widower.

Our family turned upside down that day. My dad was left with four young kids to raise and had to figure out how to make it work around the family ranch. Gram and Grandpa really stepped up and helped raise us.

Honestly, my recollections of my mother were rather hazy. I could still feel her warmth—her love—but the sound of her voice and physical appearance had faded from my memory. The photographs scattered around the house helped resurface my memories, but without those, I think I’d struggle to come up with any image of her in my mind.

My fingers traced the wall as I glanced up at a picture of all six of us a few months before her accident.

She stood almost a whole foot shorter than Dad, likely matching my current average height. Her vibrant blue eyes gleamed, complementing her blond hair that also bore a strolling resemblance to mine. The slight waves in her hair mirrored my own.

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