Page 40 of Beautifully Broken
“You think I don’t know that?” he said, quieter now. “She was my twin, Em. I lost her too. But Caleb—he loved her in a way I don’t think I’ll ever understand. She was his home.”
My throat tightened.
Nate pushed off the truck and came to stand beside me. “You being there helps him. Even when he can’t say it.”
I swallowed hard, blinking against the brightness. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s something.”
We stood in silence for a beat. The wind kicked up, warm and dry, and I thought about the way Caleb had looked at me today. Not through me. At me. Like he was trying to remember something. Or maybe forget.
I didn’t know which hurt more.
Chapter 3
Caleb
The bell over the door jingled when I unlocked it that morning, same as always. That sharp little chime cut through the thick Oklahoma heat like it had somewhere to be. The hardware store smelled like paint and sawdust—familiar, grounding. The kind of scent that clung to your skin and said,this is where you’re rooted. Some people hated it. I didn’t. It was steady. Predictable. One part of my life that hadn’t unraveled.
I’d thrown on what I always did: faded jeans, a T-shirt soft from too many washes, and an old flannel I hadn’t bothered to button. My hair stuck up in places from sleep, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
Dad was out meeting a delivery near Little River, so the store was mine for the morning. Just me and the low hum of the ceiling fan, the creak of old floorboards, and a silence that should’ve felt peaceful. But today, it didn’t.
Today, the quiet had teeth.
Nate’s voice had been rattling around in my head since our last talk."Hannah wouldn’t want you just existing, man. She’d want you living."
Living. Like that was something I still knew how to do.
I kept thinking about the reunion Emily had mentioned. Ten years since high school. Since Hannah’s bare feet on my dash and her laugh filling up the cab of my truck. Since nights at the creek and mornings where everything felt possible. We were supposed to grow old together. Instead, she died two years ago on a wet stretch of highway, and I’d been standing still ever since.
The bell over the door chimed again, and I looked up to see Irene Bennett step inside.
Hannah’s and Nate's mom.
She wore a chambray shirt rolled at the sleeves, khaki pants, and sandals. Her silver-streaked hair was pinned up the same way it always had been. Seeing herstill caught me off guard sometimes—how she could look so composed when I still felt like a cracked pane of glass.
"Morning, Caleb."
"Morning," I said, stepping out from behind the counter. "What can I help you with?"
"Need some paint," she said, walking slowly toward me. "Figured I’d finally redo the kitchen cabinets."
I nodded. "Still that buttery yellow?"
"Since Hannah helped me paint them." Her voice was calm, but her eyes didn’t meet mine.
I grabbed a swatch booklet and handed it to her. "You thinking light? Warm?"
"Yeah." She paused, thumbing through the pages. "Something soft. Not too different, just… a refresh."
We stood there for a beat too long.
"It’s not about forgetting," she said finally, her voice low. "It’s about finding our way to keep going. Making space doesn’t erase the memories."
I swallowed hard. There wasn’t anything I could say that wouldn’t fall flat, so I just nodded.
The bell jingled again, and sunlight followed someone in like it was drawn to her.
