Page 109 of Her Greatest Adventure

My voice is scratchy when I say, “I should go home.”

“You can stay as long as you want to,” Maddox grumbles stubbornly.

“I know. But . . . if he’s hurting too, he shouldn’t have to be alone. That’s not fair.”

“You know, Adalyn, I think you might be the best person Cooper could have fallen in love with,” Braxton says. “He deserves someone who will take care of him the way he’s been taking care of us our whole lives.”

Her words are all the confirmation I need. I pull away from my brother and wipe my wet cheeks. With a straight spine, I ask them to walk me to the door before I lose my edge.

“Thank you,” I tell them both. “I know I just kind of showed up here, but I appreciate you letting me talk this through with you.”

Maddox shakes his head and pulls me in for another hug. “Come here whenever you want. We don’t see enough of you while we’re here.”

“It’s not my fault you’re parents now,” I tease.

Braxton snorts a laugh. “You’re right. That’s all on your brother.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Dox throws back. “Actually, you’re usually doing the opposite—”

I push out of his hug, nose scrunched. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

My brother just laughs while pulling open the door and ushering me out. “I love you, Addie.”

“We love you,” Braxton corrects him.

I smile, waving as I head down the porch stairs. “Love you back.”

As I slide into my Jeep and crank the A/C, I feel a bit more settled. A bit more sure and confident. Ready to tackle the obstacles waiting for me at home.

39

ADALYN

The lights areon when I get home. I’m not surprised. I wasn’t going to sleep tonight either.

It’s a hot and muggy night, which only makes me feel even more sluggish on the walk up to the door. When I twist the knob, it’s unlocked, so I walk inside. Slipping off my shoes, I take my first look into the house and gasp, my hand flying over my mouth.

Cooper looks as surprised as I feel when he spins to face me, eyes wide. The paint roller in his hand clatters to the floor, pastel pink paint splashing over the linoleum and the edge of the couch.

The wall where the TV was mounted is bare and wet andpink. What were once plain beige lampshades are now pink with silver beaded fringe. A leopard-print fuzzy throw is slung over the armchair tucked by the foyer, and a grey shag rug is in the hallway. It’s a decorating disaster—my favourite kind. I spy the opened boxes across the room and release a tight breath.

“What are you doing?” I ask, bewildered.

He’s shirtless, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants. His toes are pink, speckled with paint to match his pant legs. The glow I’ve come to expect to see in his gaze is gone, dulled. My heart starts to ache.

“I didn’t think you were coming home tonight,” he rasps.

“Me neither.”

Running his fingers through his messy hair, he cautiously asks, “Why are you here?”

“I asked my question first.”

He sighs, looking around the room. It feels like forever before he finally answers me.

“We didn’t get a chance to finish unpacking your stuff yesterday.”

“And the paint? It was never the plan to paint the living room pink.”

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