When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗

Cam was as good as his word, and his crazy-ambitious plan. Our two-bedroom guesthouse was completed in a month, and my brother and I settled ourselves there comfortably. Cam had made arrangements to put most of his stuff in storage, relying on some friends to pack things away and sell the house for him. They shipped his important items—clothes, guitar, and a few of Jess’s things that he wanted to keep. But overall, his footprint in our tiny cottage was small. And since I’d been living in a trailer, so was mine. We had the trailer hauled away, and I gave the driver excellent directions to my old house in San Diego, letting him know that parking the monstrosity in the center of the driveway would be perfect. I could imagine Jack’s face when he came home to that. I told myself that this one small revenge would close that chapter of my life, and it really felt that way to me.

The big house was underway, too. We’d spent long hours talking with Sam Palmer, who was an architect by trade, and we came up with a plan that would work perfectly. I couldn’t wait to see it done, and to have something there that would fit the landscape, augmenting its beauty rather than competing with it.

Jack’s lawyer had been in touch. Connor’s threat to sue him had worked just as we’d thought it might. The joint account was released to me, along with the proceeds from the sale of the photo.

“I’m not sure how I feel, having my financial security ensured by Jack’s sale of that picture,” I told Connor one evening as we ate at the diner in town. “I mean, really, that’s me making money off something that hurt you.”

He shook his head. His stubble was grown in and he looked adorably disheveled. He was at the very end of the book he was working on, and he barely took a break to sleep. I’d had to drag him from the house to go find food. “It’s not like you went out and sold it yourself,” he said. “And it’s amazing, really, that something good can come from it.” He took my hand across the table. “I’m happy about it.”

I nodded. He was right. Though if the money should go to anyone, it probably should have been him. Fortunately, he didn’t have the kind of immediate need I did.

My photography business had grown, and I was often down in the valley for shoots, but I did all my editing in the comfortable office Connor had set up for me in his house. We worked side by side, me trying to concentrate on getting things right, while the fire god tapped away at his keyboard only feet away from me. Sometimes neither of us managed to avoid distraction.

In the end, the house took almost a full year to complete. In that time, Cam got what he’d been hoping for. He worked hard, and almost constantly, pushing his body to its limits every day so that he could fall into bed and sleep, with little energy left to think about much. I know he missed Jess. There was one picture of her in the bedroom he used in the cottage, and he often paged through the book I’d given him when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I thought maybe he was doing better. He spent time with Connor and I sometimes, playing board games or going down to the valley to catch a movie.

We went to one other movie, too—Connor invited both Cam and me to be his guests on the red carpet at the premiere of his movie, Twisted Knife, in Los Angeles. For Cam it was almost a reunion—he knew half the movie people in attendance. For me, it was another world, rubbing elbows with people I’d only read about in magazines and seen on the big screen. The premiere was exciting, and the movie was a great success for Connor. His agent, Andrew, told him he could write whatever he wanted now—his career had been sealed.

The winter wasn’t a bad one, despite the predictions of massive snow. As a result, construction continued almost without stop throughout the winter, and Cam showed up at the diner at the end of my shift in the late summer.

“You getting off soon, sis?” He asked from the other side of the counter as I refilled ketchup bottles. I didn’t need the money from the diner much now, but I enjoyed spending time with Miranda, and it was a good opportunity to keep tabs on the news in town.

I nodded. “Why? What’s up?”

“Connor and I have a surprise for you,” he said. He almost smiled as he said it. The light hadn’t returned to his dark eyes, and he looked more broody than pleased most of the time. But he seemed almost happy today.

“Okay…” I was not a big fan of surprises at this point. Life was best when I knew where it was headed.

“Just come to the house when you get off, okay?”

“Our house?”

Cam nodded. “Our house.”

I watched him walk out and get on the motorcycle parked outside, wishing I could find a way to make him really happy again. But that would take time. If I thought life had put me through the ringer, then my brother had been steamrolled, and it took a lot to recover from that.

I drove up the hill to the house slowly, not sure what to expect. As I topped the rise, I was surprised to see it lit up, bright golden light spilling from every window of the two-story structure that stood beneath the tall trees. I parked, marveling at all the little touches that had been completed since I’d last stopped by. Despite the fact that I technically lived here, I spent most of my time at Connor’s, giving my brother the space he seemed to need. But now I saw that I’d missed a lot.

The wooden structure blended well into the environment, all shades of brown and dark green accents. A huge deck stood out to the side and off the back, giving incredible views of the hillside and stream below. The front door stood wide open tonight, and music wafted toward me, along with an incredible smell. Someone was cooking.

I walked in slowly, wondering where my brother might be. And those first steps into the living room would stick with me for the rest of my life. The room glowed from firelight and the LED candles that were lit on every surface. Connor and Cam both stood on the other side of the long dining table, grinning like crazy people.

“It’s amazing!” I walked slowly into the room, turning slowly to take it all in. The high ceilings, the natural wood railing that edged the lofted second story where the bedrooms were. The rugs and pillows and curtains—none of that had been here the last time I’d walked through. “Incredible,” I breathed. “It’s finished!”

Cam nodded and came over to pull me toward the table where Connor stood.