Page 37 of The Promises We Broke
I thought about it. Mrs. Patterson had made some comment about hoping his "wandering days" were behind him, and I'd immediately jumped in to explain that some people needed time and space to heal from trauma. Tom Fletcher had wondered aloud whether Gage was "reliable enough" to be around family, and I'd found myself listing his improved pain management and commitment to his recovery plan.
"I keep correcting people who question his character," I admitted. "People who act like his leaving means he's fundamentally flawed instead of someone who was hurt and scared and didn't know how to ask for help."
Blake studied my face with the uncomfortable perception of someone who knew me too well. "Sounds like you're starting to see his side of the story."
"I'm seeing the medical facts. Trauma responses, survival mechanisms, the kind of psychological damage that happens when children are manipulated by authority figures." I was using clinical language to distance myself from the emotional implications, but Blake wasn't buying it.
"Right. Completely professional assessment."
"Exactly."
"So it has nothing to do with the way you've been smiling every time someone mentions his name?"
I started to deny it, then stopped. Because she was right. Every story about his heroism with Barrett, every mention of his improvement, every piece of evidence that he was trying to heal and stay and be part of his family again made something warm and hopeful unfurl in my chest.
"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" I said quietly.
"Depends. How much trouble do you want to be in?"
Before I could answer, the bell above the gallery door chimed, and Emma burst in with the kind of energy that usually meant she had news to share.
"Did you hear about the swimming hole house?" she asked without preamble, settling into the chair beside me with dramatic flair.
"That old haunted place up on the hill? What about it?" Blake asked.
"Someone bought it. Cash offer, closed in two days. Completely anonymous purchase through lawyers." Emma leaned forward conspiratorially. "Word is they're planning major renovations. Bringing in contractors from the city, full restoration project."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. The swimming hole house. The place where Gage and I had spent countless afternoons dreaming about our future, making plans for the life we'd thought we'd build together. The place where he'd kissed me for the first time, where I'd believed with absolute certainty that we'd grow old together.
"Any idea who bought it?" I asked, though part of me already suspected the answer.
"Complete mystery. But whoever it is has serious money and serious intentions. Talk is they want to restore it to period authenticity, bring it back to what it was supposed to be."
"If it's an anonymous buyer, how does anyone know that?" Blake asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You don't know how town gossip works, do you?"
She squinted at me in suspicion and I almost wanted to laugh.
"At some point someone will have said 'oh I wonder if they'll keep the period features,' and then it grows from there."
"Huh." Blake frowned again, her eyes seeming to focus on something in the distance. "So what you're saying is as long as I start it off with a subtle suggestion, I could get people talking about absolutely anything."
That hadn't been what I'd expected her to say.
"Ooooh, damn," Emma whistled. "You know this is the moment you created a super villain, right? You just became part of her origin story."
I looked between the two of them. "You're both ridiculous."
As they laughed, I tried not to think about the old house we'd spent so many summers staring at and creating an imaginary future where neither of us acknowledged that we were living there together. That we were building a make-believe family, the tips of our fingers brushing together as we lay in the cool grass dreaming of a life that would never be.
My chest tightened with an emotion I couldn't name. Hope, maybe. Or fear. Because there was only one person I could think of who would care enough about that house to invest in its restoration. Only one person who might see it as something worth saving instead of just another piece of Willowbrook real estate.
"Interesting timing," Blake said, her eyes fixed on my face with uncomfortable intensity.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Gage comes home after eleven years, and suddenly someone with cash and renovation plans buys the house where you two used to spend all your time. Could be a coincidence."
