His scent hit me, and I realized just how close I was to him, that I was actually touching him. I jerked back and felt my cheeks heat all the way to my ears.

He didn’t say anything or even move. Nope, he stood there like the brick wall he was, giving nothing away in those unreadable eyes of his, but at least he wasn’t making fun of me.

“So anyway, I brought a few more things. I can just grab them from the car, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Need help carrying them in?”

The thought of him seeing everything in my car had me scrambling for an out. “Oh, no. You go back to the Scout. It’s only a box or two. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll just let myself out when I’m done.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he finally nodded. “Okay, suit yourself. I’ll be in the garage if you change your mind.”

He headed toward the garage, which opened along the east side of the house, and I put my shoes back on and went out the front door. Even if he had the garage door open, he wouldn’t see the collection I was about to haul in.

Sweet, crisp air filled my lungs, and the contrast from indoors made me realize how badly the house needed to be aired out and thoroughly cleaned. How long had it been since anyone had lived here? It had been since before Sullivan died.

I made trip after trip from my car to the entry hall, first pushing boxes against the wall and then stacking them until I’d carried in everything I’d brought.

The grandfather clock chimed, and a smile tugged at my lips. I loved that clock. Had it made in Germany, Cal had told me before showing me how to wind it.

My feet carried me across the entry into my favorite room in the house—the library. Dust sparkled in the air as light came in the row of windows taller than I was. Books lined the walls, reaching toward the ceiling in stacks and unorganized lines. It was a riot of color, paperback and leather, but though dust covered the floor, none touched the shelves or the empty chessboard in the corner.

Camden had been in the house for only a night and had already taken down the sheets Sullivan and I had cut apart to cover the books and furniture when Cal passed away. That day with Sullivan, so close to his enlistment, should have been the memory I lingered on, should have been what sent my hands to the spines, but it wasn’t.