Outside, the mountains stretched wide and endless, painted in russet and gold. The silence was soft but alive—wind through pine, the creek humming low, a few birds calling in the distance.
By the time the kettle whistled, Lennox stirred.
“Morning, Goldie,” I teased as he stepped onto the deck barefoot, hair wild from sleep, body warm and muscled and impossible to ignore.
He grinned, voice rough with sleep. “You always up before the sun.”
“Someone has to make sure this place keeps breathing,” I said, handing him a mug. “Besides, it’s blackout week. Perfect time to reflect.”
He wrapped an arm around me from behind, his chest pressed to my back, heartbeat steady against mine. “Reflecting, huh? That what you call it?”
“Mmhmm.” I smiled. “Grateful is all.”
“Better?” he asked quietly.
“Better,” I said, meaning every syllable. “We’re better.”
He kissed the crown of my head. “We worked for it.”
We had. Therapy sessions with Selena, art journaling with Tasha, nights where silence pressed heavy before truth finally broke through. Piece by piece, we rebuilt what almost fractured beyond repair.
But healing doesn’t erase memory—it just teaches it how to breathe.
He shifted then, pulling a folded envelope from the counter. “Oh—before I forget. This came by courier yesterday.”
I took it from him, brow raised. Heavy cream paper, black wax seal shaped like a rose gleaming in the morning light.
“What is this?”
“Some kind of invitation,” he said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “No return address. Hand-delivered. I figured we’d open it together.”
Curiosity flickered. I broke the seal.
You are cordially invited to Hallow Noir
An evening of masquerade and mystery
October 25 · The Williams Estate · Allegheny County
Dress: Gothic Elegance
Theme: Reimagine your story
Hand-delivered by request of Hansel & Gretel Noir
I blinked. “This looks… exclusive.”
“It is,” he said. “Invite-only. My father mentioned it once.”
“Alan?” I looked up, surprised. “You think he’s behind this?”
He hesitated, a faint smirk curving one corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be the first time he pulled strings I didn’t ask for. He called last night, actually. Wants me to come into the city this weekend.”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “For what?”
“Said it’s been too long since we sat down as a family. Micah and Cairo will be there too.”
The words settled between us. His father’s name alone still carried weight. The man who once tried to buy his way into the retreat, who saw everything—including me—as part of an equation that could turn profit.
