ick townhouse in Brooklyn. Thick ivy choked the front wind

to the cracked sidewalk. She stared up at the building

h one hand, hoisting it over the tailgate as if it weighed nothing. He slung a b

put her entire body weight into turning it. The door shri

niture like ghosts. The walls were lined with vibra

pointed toward the narrow staircase, telling Cruz the gu

up the wooden stairs. The old boa

oked ancient. He dropped his duffel bag on the floor. He didn't care about the squalor. He inha

the sink. The pipes shuddered violently before spitting out a stream

ed, jump

orway. He took one look at the mess, walked over, and calmly rol

. He dropped to his knees and slid his broad shoulders under t

is muscles flex as he tightened the pipes. A strange wave of gratitude w

the corner of the sheet covering the sofa and yanked it off. A

ds in the now clear water and walked into

dead in h

gainst the corner wall. It was covered in

center was a

was wearing a bright yellow summer camp t-shirt, grinning a

s fixed entirely on the faded ph

e reached out. His calloused fingertip barely grazed the white

es of water. She saw him frozen in front of the bo

d. He forced his jaw to unclench. He pointed at the

summer camp in New Jersey fifteen years ago. She mentioned she had

creak. His knuckles turned bone white. He loc

ide the violent storm in his eyes. He asked, his voice rou

his face entirely, only remembering that he looked so lost and complet

. The obsession in his

ortrait of Clara Hale hanging on the wall. He

on, her life belongs to me. The air around him grew heavy, thick

e screen, complaining that the l

nster back inside. He reached into his tool bag, pulled out

ged on the dusty floorboards, eating sli

ruz open a bottle of soda for her. The

er face, drinking in the domestic peace he