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I managed a short nod.
Memories crowded my brain, the day he left the house for the last time, agitated and restless and confused why he couldn’t stay.
Take care of it, kid. Just make sure someone loves it like I did, all right?
Hands tucked in my pockets, I rocked backed on my heels briefly while she continued to stare. The yard was freshly mowed, something I’d done the night before, which is why my jaunt to the Wilder shop had happened in the dark.
Since the house had been empty, I usually swung by on Friday afternoons just after work, but hadn’t had the chance the night before because I was working in my own barn, onlyderailed when I realized I didn’t have the right kind of small lathe necessary for some spindle work.
Ian was usually the master carpenter for anything to do with Wilder Homes, but no one was going to touch this for me.
Poppy rubbed an absent hand over her belly, the wheels clicking in her head so loudly that I could practically hear the gears as they chugged through the millions of questions.
“Want to see the inside?” I asked.
She swallowed, dancing her fingers over the front of her bump. “Yes.” Then she cut her eyes to mine. “But I need you to tell me why first.”
I held her gaze without answering.
She let out a small huff. “Now is not the time to lose your words, Jax.”
Nerves had my chest tight the longer we stood there staring. Yes, it was impulsive, but it was different. I could handle this differently. Do it right.
“I think you know why.”
Poppy muttered a quiet curse under her breath, lips twisting up as she drank in all the details of the home. “This doesn’t feel like one of those situations where I should assume anything.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and jerked my chin toward the house. “You want your own place, right? Here’s an empty one.”
“And you just … happened to have the key. And know it’s empty.”
Words balanced on the tip of my tongue, straddling an invisible line I really didn’t want to cross. “I take care of it for Henry. He asked me to.”
“Typical. Has a freaking house sitting in his back pocket just when I need one,” she muttered under her breath. Her hands rose and fell in a helpless drop. “Look at it. It’sperfect.”
The cheery blue siding was freshly painted within the last year, something I’d done when the fading started to get under my skin. I hated the thought that Henry’s house looked old. That it reminded me of how long he’d been gone, and just how much I missed him—missed the role he filled. How thoroughly he’d changed my life when he took me under his wing.
A two-stall garage anchored the left side of the house, and if I closed my eyes, I could still see his car parked in the middle of that pristine garage, ready to be backed up so we could do our Saturday car wash. Leading off the right side of the driveway was a small sidewalk leading to the front porch—big windows on either side of the glossy red door. I painted that too. The second floor had three tall windows overlooking the front yard.
It was tucked back in the cul-de-sac, a large swath of undeveloped land behind it, filled with wildflowers and tall grasses. It got more sun than her mom’s house did because there weren’t as many tall trees filling the neighborhood, which was why there was actually enough grass to mow regularly. Up one side of the street and down the other, neighborhood kids rode their bikes and played basketball in their driveways.
Briefly breaking my rule to never, ever touch Poppy Wilder unless it was an emergency, I settled my hand along her lower back and nudged her gently. “Unless you’ve developed X-ray vision, it’s gonna be tough to see the inside from the driveway.”
She gave me a sidelong glance. “Someone’s full of it today.”
The edges of my lips tilted up briefly, and her eyes snagged on my mouth before she looked away. Wouldn’t I have done the same thing?
The chemistry between us was as natural as breathing since I’d been back. The floodgates opened that couldn’t beclosed again. Everything about her made my head spin, and it was impossible to imagine a time when that wasn’t true.
We walked up the step onto the front porch, and I held out my hand, gesturing for her to go ahead. Poppy sucked in a quick breath and walked inside the house.
It was clean and bright, the room empty and smelling like lemon cleaner. She took in the spacious family room with beams running across the ceiling and the flagstone fireplace with a chunky wood mantel in the center of the room. The hearth was big, and at Christmastime, Henry would line it with thick green garland covered with colored lights. I thought it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
She wandered through the dining area that overlooked the huge backyard, and paused at the slider, fingers touching the glass. The meadow behind the house was bursting with color—pink and yellow and white blooms tucked between the tall grasses. Poppy stood at that spot for a long time, staring at the flowers with an unreadable expression.
“Henry doesn’t have any kids?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Never married either. When I was about ten, I thought he was the coolest guy I’d ever met. Told me he was a lone wolf, but it was fine for two lone wolves to hang out together sometimes.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I wanted to be him when I grew up.”
