Chapter 232: A Confession Before the Storm
Jacob~
I’d just sealed a deal I couldn’t back out of—not that I had any intention of doing so.
Mariel, the Dreamweaver I invited an hour ago, had disappeared in a swirling burst of thundercloud-blue mist, her last words hanging in the air like forgotten lyrics. That smirk on her face said everything—she was pleased, satisfied with the terms I’d signed. And now, I was alone, letting my thoughts twist and crash like waves in a storm.
But I didn’t have time to sit around and sulk. I had moves to make. Time was slipping, and Tiger would be bringing Easter home soon.
By 1 p.m., I’d already followed through on the next step—calling a man named Bernard Garrison. Real estate agent. Sharp. Efficient. I’d chosen his name from a long list, my magic guiding me straight to him like a compass that knew exactly what I needed. I wasn’t looking for "average" or "okay." I needed right. I needed perfect. And fast.
I’d called him the day before yesterday—unsure, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Told him I was looking for something warm, inviting... something that felt like home. Back then, my only thought was that Easter deserved a real place for her and Rose. A place that would feel safe. Solid. So what happened at Zane’s estate... wouldn’t happen again.
I didn’t know then that this might be a goodbye gift.
Bernard hadn’t pressed for details. He didn’t have to. There was something in my voice—steel wrapped in velvet. The kind of tone that tells people, Just trust me.
By 1:15 p.m., I was standing beside him in a quiet, sun-drenched neighborhood, just fifteen minutes from Easter’s college. We toured a few places, but the moment I walked through the door of that last house, I knew. It wasn’t the marble countertops or the freshly painted walls—it was something else. The stillness. The warmth in the corners. The way it felt like someone had already whispered a thousand "welcome home"s into the walls.
Yeah. This was it. This was the one.
It had charm. Warm wood paneling. Tall windows that bathed every corner in sunlight. A fenced yard where Rose could run free, and a porch swing where Easter could rest in the evenings, warm drink in hand. It was peace wrapped in brick and cedar.