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His smile lights up his whole face.

“Deal.” Ansel claps his hands together. “All right, you should be okay here without this fire alarm for one night since the rest of yours are fine. If you want, I can take care of it while you’re at work, that way I don’t have to be all up in your space when you get home.”

“All right. I’ll text you the code for the keypad. And let me know the details for Baylor’s birthday.”

He’s already walking toward the front door with his ladder. “Will do.”

“I really appreciate your help, Ansel.”

Maybe it’s the note of regret in my voice that has him looking over his shoulder at me. Regret only because I don’t have a husband here to help me. He presses his lips together, gives me a nod, then he’s out the door.

I lock it behind him, and my forehead falls to the wooden door.

That entire interaction felt harder than it should have. But he made good points, and if I’m honest with myself—really honest—I admit how much I hate the woman I’ve become.

THREE

Ansel

Being at Collins’s house last night was jarring. And not just because of all the memories we made there, memories that only magnify the loss of my childhood best friend, but because of the stark difference in Collins and the house itself.

When I used to go over, it was always full of life—they’d have music playing, or Caleb would be screaming at some game on the television. There was laughter and fun. You’d always be met with the scent of whatever Collins was cooking, and Caleb never let anyone’s hand be empty for more than three minutes after stepping through the door.

And this close to Christmas, there would be all kinds of holiday decor—both inside and outside their home. But she didn’t even have a wreath up on the front door, let alone Christmas lights.

Walking in, I was met with… silence. And it felt suffocating.

Collins has changed, which is expected, but I don’t even recognize who she is. She used to be warm and could talk with anyone—initiated it, in fact. Caleb was dragging her out of any social gathering because she used to feed on the energy of others.

Now… it’s as if Collins decided to stop living too.

A part of me understands. Sometimes, even now, for a split second, I’ll forget that he’s gone and have an errant thought and pick up my phone to text him. Caleb will get a kick out of this. Then I’ll catch myself and put my phone down, feeling as though someone scooped out my insides.

But he wouldn’t want this for her. Caleb wouldn’t want Collins to stay stuck in her grief and stop living altogether. He’d hate me for allowing her to lose herself the way she has.

I have to do something. He was the best friend a guy could ask for. I owe him at least this.

As I pull into the parking lot between Mercer Hardware and the Bait and Tackle Shop, I wave to the Thermos Crew—Jimmy, Clyde, and Sam, the stalwart sentries of Echo Lake.

For almost as long as I can remember, these three men have been out here in their lawn chairs, Thermoses full of coffee, acting as though they’re watching over our town. They’re really doing what they do best—gossiping.

Rain or shine, winter or summer, they’re here.

Age is taking its toll, and they can’t quite get in and out of their chairs like they used to, the lines on their faces are more like canyons these days, but they’ve still got their wits about them.

My boots crunch on the snow in the gravel lot as I climb out of my truck. “Hey, boys, what’s shakin’?”

“Was just telling these two about the time Barb and I—may she rest in peace—” Clyde is the first to speak. No surprise there.

“May she rest in peace,” the other two men echo as they always do.

“Drove the boys down to Florida for a family vacation. Probably about thirty, thirty-two years ago now. Got pulled over for speeding in Virginia.” He pauses for a beat. “Or was it North Carolina? Can’t be sure anymore, it was so long ago. This officer got out of his cruiser, and I swear to God I thought that⁠—”

“Ansel probably has things to do. Why don’t you save the rest of the story for the two of us?” Jimmy says, motioning to himself and Sam.

Clyde shrugs and leans back in his chair, using his glove-covered hands to bring the Thermos to his lips.

“Day off?” Jimmy asks.