Caelyn paused and turned to face me, her expression gentle. “Mia’s been scaring the wits out of me since she was able to walk. But I swear she knows her limits. She won’t get hurt.”

I still wasn’t completely sold on the idea of a seven-year-old girl throwing her body into the air and just hoping she landed on her feet. But it wasn’t my place to argue. I forced myself to keep walking towards the shop.

I pulled open the door and hit the button for the oversized garage door. Light spilled into the space from outside as it opened. When I flicked on the overhead fixtures, Caelyn gasped. “There’s so much furniture.”

I surveyed the space around us. “A lot of the stuff was damaged beyond repair. But there was a fair amount I just couldn’t force myself to part with. It’s time to do a real inventory. I’ve got someone coming to pick up the things I want to get rid of tomorrow morning. We just have to pull it outside so they can have access.” I wasn’t going to let anyone inside to wander around, even just in the workshop. I didn’t trust strangers not to have sticky fingers or go looking for things of note from my family to sell.

Caelyn wove through the crowded space, her fingers dusting over furniture pieces as she passed. “Bell would love this place. You know, she might be able to help you fix some of this stuff up if you want. I could call her and have her come out here—”

“No.” The single word came out more harshly than I’d intended. And the hurt that flashed across Caelyn’s face had me kicking myself. “I don’t have people I don’t know at the farmhouse.”

Sympathy filled Caelyn’s expression but the echoes of hurt still danced in her eyes. “Fair enough.”

I nodded and focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the reminder that typical relationships, ones that entailed friendliness with neighbors and acquaintances, weren’t for me.

And that included brown-haired beauties who’d brought light into my world for the first time in years.

10

Caelyn