Taryn and Rebecca stared at her, clearly confused.

“Well, that doesn’t matter.” Kincaid waved a hand between them, her oven mitts still on. “But they were going to gut the poor house and make it modern and industrial and things it just shouldn’t be. And it was, like, my obligation, you know, to good taste and…history and, I don’t know…the soul of the house to save it from that. And—” She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop now that she’d gotten started. “And it just reminded me of the house I always dreamed of when I was a little girl. A Hallmark Movie house. One with a big family and big dinners and big cushy furniture and board games and a fireplace. One filled with people who loved each other. You know, one completely different from my own.”

The last words rang out between them, ones she hadn’t meant to say, but the horror on her friends’ faces softened.

“Oh, sweetie,” Rebecca said, empathy filling her expression.

Kincaid felt something wet slide down her cheek. Goddammit. When had she started to cry?

“Kincaid,” Taryn said gently, “is this about your letter?”

The letters. The ones their teenage selves had written to their future selves and buried in a time capsule. They’d opened them two years ago, spilling out all their teen dreams and reminding them of how much they hadn’t accomplished.

“Buying an aging farmhouse and trying to open a bed-and-breakfast were most definitely not in my letter,” Kincaid pointed out.

“No, but your letter talked about never having to live like your mom did,” Rebecca said, obviously treading carefully. “You talked about having a great job and a beautiful home.”

“I honestly wasn’t thinking about my letter. I already have a nice home. And I have a job.” She released a breath. “I don’t know what happened. It just felt like the house was supposed to be mine.” She swiped at her cheek, streaking mascara over the flying pigs. “I know it’s really, really stupid. I’m completely aware of that. I have no idea how I’m going to make this work, but…”

“But what?” Liv asked, no censure in her voice.

Kincaid searched for the words. “But have you ever just looked at something and known that it had to be yours or you’d just die?”

Understanding lit Liv’s face.

Rebecca got a soft look in her eyes and nodded. “That’s how I feel about Wes.”

Liv and Taryn nodded like they knew the amen to that same prayer. Taryn walked over and pulled Kincaid into a hug. “Girl, sounds like you fell in love. Hard.”

Kincaid sniffed indelicately, the tears still sneaking out, but a smile touched her lips. “Of course. Leave it to me to fall in love with a haunted house and not some sexy guy who tries to feed me muffins or smoothies. This is a complete mess.”

“Love usually is,” Rebecca said, stepping closer as Taryn released Kincaid from the hug. “But I’ve learned that sometimes you have to trust your gut and figure out the rest later.”