Page 324 of Black Reign

Fall.

Then she turns toward me.

Her eyes are wet.

“How?”

“I know everything.”

A tear slips free.

I reconsider.

“Almost everything.”

She laughs through whatever is happening to her.

Then looks back at the cottage.

“It looks exactly the same.”

“Not exactly.”

“The shutters were always terrible.”

“I was instructed not to replace them.”

Her head turns.

“By whom?”

“You.”

“I never⁠—”

“You told Ghost once that your father painted them every spring and they still looked bad by August.”

She stares at me.

I remember the conversation.

Apparently she does too.

“He hated painting.”

“You said he claimed the wood was fighting him.”

Her hand goes over her mouth.

I immediately regret remembering so much.

Then she walks toward the gate.

I follow several steps behind.

Not because I don't want to touch her.

Because this belongs to her.