By noon, the move to Maple Street was done without fanfare. It wasn't much of a house—a small, square clapboard cottage with peeling white paint, faded green shutters, and a sagging front porch that groaned under your boots. But the roof didn't leak, the wood stove in the living room drew clean, and there was a narrow iron bed in the back bedroom with a clean quilt that smelled faintly of lavender and old bleach.
I carried Sarah inside myself, her weight alarmingly light in my arms, like she was made of dry twigs and old paper. She didn't protest, just let her head rest against my shoulder with a sigh of absolute exhaustion as I laid her down on the quilt.
"It’s quiet here, Jax," she whispered, her eyes drifting closed as I pulled the blankets up under her chin. "Feels like we finally stopped moving."
"Just rest," I said, my voice rough. "I'm going back to the garage to grab the rest of the tools and the kerosene heater. I'll be back before dark."
She didn't answer; she was already asleep, her breathing shallow and rhythmic in the quiet room.
When I walked back out to the front porch, Leo was sitting on the top step, kicking his scuffed sneakers against the riser. He had a small wooden block he’d found in the yard, turning it over and over in his hands.
I sat down on the step beside him, the old wood creaking under my weight. The street was quiet, lined with tall maple trees dropping their last golden leaves onto the frosted grass. A stray dog trotted past the yard, ignoring us completely.
"You like it here better than the motel?" I asked, looking out toward the gravel road.
Leo nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his sneakers. "Mom won't cough as much here. The walls don't smell like wet carpet."
I reached out, my heavy, calloused hand hovering for a second in the cold air before resting awkwardly on his messy light brown hair. He didn't flinch. He just leaned his small shoulder against my arm, a solid, warm weight that felt entirely too heavy and entirely too right all at once.
"We're going to fix up the porch rails tomorrow," I told him quietly. "And I'll teach you how to check the oil on the truck."
May you like
Leo looked up, his big hazel eyes bright with something that looked dangerously like pride. "Promise?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling the last cold wall around my chest crack open just a fraction. "Promise."
