Page 28 of What Remains of Grace

He didn’t push, just waited while she exhaled slowly and stepped inside.

The room smelled of coffee and paper. She touched the edge of the desk, tracing the scratches where Grace used to drag her rings against the surface when she thought.

Jenna turned back toward Cole. He was still leaning quietly against the doorframe, arms crossed, giving her space to say it in her own time.

“It has to stay a bedroom and office,” she said. “Grace worked here. Slept here. Lived here. I’ll use it too, but I won’t erase her.”

He nodded once. “Then we keep moving.”

She met his eyes, surprised at how easily the words fit. “Yeah. We keep moving.”

* * *

Jenna and Cole had just stepped into the hallway when Emmie turned the corner from the living room.

Cole was standing in the doorway of Grace’s old office, clipboard in one hand, the other braced lightly against the frame as if measuring it. His head nearly grazed the top. His shoulders filled the space in the other direction, broad enough that the hallway behind him looked smaller than it ever had.

For a second, Emmie froze. She took in the sight of the man in her mother’s doorway, tall enough to look out of place in any room, his voice low as he said something she couldn’t quite hear.

Her expression hardened before she could stop it. “So,” she said, her tone flat, “you must be ‘the guy.’”

Cole turned toward her, surprise flickering briefly across his face before settling into something easy. A small smile curved his mouth. “Guilty?”

It wasn’t defensive, just lightly self-aware. The kind of humor that said he understood he’d walked into someone else’s story halfway through.

Emmie didn’t smile back. Her arms folded automatically, her guard lifting.

Cole caught that, too. “Just looking things over,” he said gently. “Nothing’s changing without you two saying so.”

That disarmed her for a moment, how quickly he’d read what she hadn’t said out loud. Jenna stepped forward, filling the silence. “Cole’s just doing an estimate. No decisions yet.”

“Right,” Emmie said, her tone more even now. “An estimate.”

She looked back at Cole, still half-blocking the doorway, and then at Jenna. “I’ll . . . be in my room.”

“Okay,” Jenna said lightly.

Emmie gave one more glance toward the office, toward Grace’s space, and then turned down the hall. The door to her room clicked shut behind her.

The hallway felt smaller once she was gone.

Cole exhaled, almost a laugh but not quite. “That went . . . okay?”

Jenna’s voice lowered instinctively. “Better than it could have.”

He nodded toward the nearest doorway, keeping his tone low. “Mind if we step in here?”

She followed him into Grace’s old bedroom. The space felt tighter with both of them inside, their voices falling to a whisper so Emmie wouldn’t hear. Cole leaned against the wall, running his hand along the window frame, checking the trim. Then he angled closer, lowering his head toward her as if to share a secret.

Sensing the tension still clinging to her from the hallway, he dipped his face near her ear. “She’s strong,” he murmured, his voice dropping low. “That kind of strength can come out sharp sometimes, but it’s not meant to cut.”

Jenna looked down, taking a half step back, her throat tightening. “I know.”

His voice was low, rough, and steady, wrapping around her like something tangible. “You’re doing fine.”

The words hit somewhere deep, stealing the air from her lungs. The room seemed to shrink even more now, the silence resting heavier between them. For a second, neither of them moved. She could feel Cole’s breath ghost against her cheek before he straightened, as if his inspection of the window was done, but he didn’t step far. His presence lingered, solid and sure.

“Guess I’ll finish up out back,” he said finally, giving her a small, easy smile.