“Yeah, you totally look it.” Liv walked over and crouched in front of her. “I curl into the fetal position and cry when I’m fine, too.”

Kincaid sniffled. “I’m just overtired.”

“Uh-huh.” Liv sat next to her, a ripple of relief going through her. She hated to see her friend sad, but that was better than seeing her pretend everything was fine when it so obviously wasn’t. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She swiped at her face. “It’s stupid.”

“I love stupid,” Liv assured her. “Tell me.”

Kincaid exhaled and pointed to an open box a few feet away. “That.”

The box was labeled Random Shit. That made Liv smile. Throughout the day she’d been amused by Kincaid’s creative use of labeling. Kitchen Junk. Stuff I Should Get Rid of But Won’t. Photos to Blackmail Friends With. The Body.

That last one had given Liv pause, especially since the box had been so heavy. But when she’d opened it, it’d been filled with fitness equipment. Kincaid had laughed. “You were supposed to bury that one. What kind of friend are you?”

Rebecca walked over to the box and opened the flaps. Liv got to her feet and joined her. She pulled out a stack of business cards wrapped with a rubber band. The name of Kincaid’s food blog was on it. She dropped those back inside. There were books about flipping houses. A legal pad with what looked to be a menu scribbled on it in Kincaid’s looping handwriting. Real estate books. Yarn. Some kind of machine to make jewelry.

Liv turned to her, confused. She’d thought this had something to do with Ash. “I don’t get it.”

Kincaid leaned against the wall, arms still wrapped around her knees. “I should’ve labeled that box Half-Finished Projects. Or maybe Failures. Or Impulsive Things I Bought But Never Followed Through On.” Her eyes welled again. “I’m a real pro at starting things.”

“So,” Liv said, coming back to her side of the room and sitting in front of Kincaid cross-legged. “That means you’re creative, that you have a lot of ideas.”

Kincaid shook her head. “That’s just it, though. I’m full of ideas and dreams and plans, but I go off half-cocked all the time. I curl my lip at my mom’s gambling addiction, but who am I to judge? I’m addicted to the ideas of things. To the fantasy images of a happy life. What’s the point of having grand visions if I don’t have what it takes to make them come true? That box is filled with things I was so excited about.” She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Just like this house.”

“Kincaid—” Taryn said from somewhere behind Liv.

“Look at this place.” Kincaid spread out her hands. “You know how much it needs to turn it into a retreat where people would actually want to stay? To turn it into a business?”

Liv gave her a sympathetic look. “Babe, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, this is going to be a huge project, but it’s not an impossible one. It’s like me trying to imagine an art show before I’ve taken one photograph or created one piece. That feels daunting and impossible every time. You have to start with one little step forward. Eventually you get to the end.”