Chapter 138 *
Scarlett’s POV
The key turned in the lock with a soft click. I pushed the door open.
The smell hit me first. That specific combination of wood polish and vanilla candles that Mom always loved. The scent was fainter now. Stale. But still there.
I stepped inside. My throat went tight.
Everything was exactly how I remembered it. The worn leather couch where Dad used to fall asleep reading medical journals. The coffee table with the ring stains from Mom's tea mugs. The bookshelf stuffed with paperbacks and medical textbooks.
Even the throw blanket was still draped over the armchair. The one Mom crocheted the winter before she died.
My chest felt heavy. I couldn't move from the doorway.
Damon's hand touched my lower back. Light. Just a presence. "You okay?"
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice yet.
I walked further inside. My feet knew the way without thinking. Past the dining table. Through the kitchen doorway.
The kitchen looked frozen in time. Mom's apron was still hanging on the hook by the stove. Her recipe cards were scattered on the counter. Like she'd just been in the middle of planning dinner.
I picked up one of the cards. Chocolate chip cookies. Her handwriting was so familiar it hurt.
"That's you."
I turned. Damon was standing by the mantel. He was holding a framed photo.
I walked over. Looked at the picture in his hands.
Me at fourteen. Gap-toothed smile. Hair in two braids. Wearing overalls covered in mud.
"I was helping Dad in the garden that day." The memory came back sharp and clear. "I fell face-first into the tomato plants."
Damon's mouth curved into a smile. "Those braids."
"Don't." I grabbed the photo from him. "I was going through a phase."
"What phase? Farm girl chic?"
I smacked his arm. "Shut up."
But I was smiling too. It felt good. The heaviness in my chest lifted slightly.
I set the photo back on the mantel. Looked around at all the other pictures. My whole childhood was documented on these walls.
School photos. Birthday parties. That time Dad took me fishing and I caught a boot instead of a fish.
Simple and normal moments.
"Your mom was beautiful." Damon was looking at a wedding photo now.
I walked over. Stood next to him.
Mom looked so young in that picture. Her smile was huge. Genuine. Dad had his arm around her waist. They both looked so happy.
"She was." My voice came out quiet. "Inside and out."
Damon set the photo down carefully. "She raised you right."
My eyes burned. I blinked hard. "Yeah. She did."
The silence stretched out. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Just heavy with memories.
"We should figure out sleeping arrangements." I changed the subject. Needed to move. Do something. "It's getting late."
Damon checked his watch. "Almost ten."
I headed for the stairs. "There's a guest room upstairs. You can take that. I'll sleep in my old room."
My bedroom was exactly how I'd left it. Twin bed with the faded purple comforter. Desk covered in old textbooks. Posters on the walls from bands I'd loved in high school.
I opened the closet. My old clothes were still hanging there. Jeans I'd outgrown. T-shirts from school events.
"This is your room?"
I turned. Damon was standing in the doorway. Looking around with that amused expression.
"Don't judge me." I crossed my arms. "I was seventeen."
His eyes landed on the boy band poster above my bed. "Oh, I'm judging."
"Get out." I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it easily. Laughed. "Let me see the guest room."
I led him down the hall. Opened the door to what used to be the guest bedroom.
Then stopped.
"Well. That's a problem."
The room was packed with boxes. Storage containers. Old furniture covered in sheets. Dad had clearly turned this into a storage room at some point.
There was no bed. No space for a bed. Just stuff everywhere.
Damon looked over my shoulder. "Guess I'm taking the couch."
"Don't be ridiculous." I turned away from the storage disaster. "You're not sleeping on that ancient couch. Your back will hate you."
"Then what do you suggest?"
The answer was obvious. But saying it out loud felt dangerous.
"My room has a double bed." The words came out too fast. "It's big enough for both of us."
The air between us changed. Got heavier.
Damon's eyes met mine. "You sure about that?"
"It's not a big deal." I was definitely lying. "We're married. Married people share beds."
"Scarlett."
"What?" I walked back toward my room. Tried to sound casual. "It's just sleeping. We're adults."
I could feel him watching me. Could feel that intensity even without looking back.
This was fine. Everything was fine. We'd just sleep. That's all.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought he might hear it.
I started digging through my dresser. Looking for something to sleep in.
Most of my old pajamas were too small now. I'd grown since high school. Filled out in places that made teenage clothes unwearable.
I finally found an old college t-shirt and sleep shorts. They'd have to work.
"I'm going to shower." I grabbed the clothes. "Bathroom's across the hall. There should be towels in the closet."
I practically ran to the bathroom. Closed the door. Leaned against it.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. My face was flushed. My pupils were dilated.
This was such a bad idea.
The shower helped.
Except all I could think about was Champlain Hotel.
That night felt like a different lifetime. Different people.
I'd been angry. Reckless. Looking for an escape.
He'd been a stranger. Dangerous. Exactly what I needed to feel something other than pain.
Now he was my husband. Everything was different.
I turned off the water. Dried off. Got dressed. The t-shirt was thin.
I walked back to my bedroom. Damon was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd changed into a t-shirt he must have found in Dad's old things.
The fabric stretched tight across his shoulders. His chest. The shirt was clearly too small for him.
He looked up when I walked in. His eyes traveled down. Then back up.
The temperature in the room rose about ten degrees.
"Your turn." My voice came out breathier than I meant it to. "Bathroom's all yours."
He stood. Walked past me. I caught his scent. That cologne mixed with something that was just him.
My knees felt weak.
The door closed behind him. I heard the shower turn on.
I climbed into bed. Stayed on my side. As far to the edge as possible.
This was fine. We'd just sleep. That's all.