Chapter 53

• Beau always did his best thinkin’ with a pencil tucked behind his ear, sawdust itchin’ the crease of his neck, and the sweet hush of a slow creek hummin’ down the hill. He sat on the edge of that half-built porch, boots planted wide on the fresh planks he’d laid just yesterday, yellow legal pad propped on his knee like it was the Bible itself.
• At the top of the list, under a line he’d pressed so deep he damn near tore the paper: Sadie’s forever.
• Below it, a hundred scribbles that made him grin wide in the hush — roof shingles, new window frames, paint she’d pick when he dragged her out here next time. Fresh steps, a porch swing that’d hold more than just sweet whispers — it’d hold memories. And right under that: ring.