“I guess buying a cabin changed you.”
I looked around my small office.
At my worn shoes under the desk.
At the coffee I had forgotten to drink.
At the schedule filled with people who needed something from me.
“No,” I said quietly.
“The cabin didn’t change me.”
I looked at the framed photo on my desk of the empty porch on my property.
“It just gave me a place where I could finally hear myself.”
Kevin didn’t answer.
He hung up a few seconds later.
I thought that was the end.
I was wrong.
Because two weeks later, on a bright Saturday morning, I was sitting on my porch reading a book when three vehicles appeared at the end of my gravel driveway.
Three.
Not one.
Three.
A large SUV.
A minivan.
And a pickup truck loaded with bags.
My stomach dropped.
Kevin had never asked again.
