Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (46)

Sky looked like she was hopped up on 87 million grams of sugar as she bounded around the front yard.

I gave my sleeves a quick tug, making sure the scars on my wrists were covered. “I would love to see my new apartment.”

“Come on,” she yelled.

Wylder appeared by the entrance to the garage. “Mav brought her chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream for breakfast. She’s been running circles around us ever since.”

“They were the freaking best!” Skylar shouted.

I couldn’t hold in my laugh. “I hope Mav’s on babysitting duty for the rest of the day.”

Wylder’s lips twitched. “Pretty sure Kol’s gonna send her home with him tonight.”

“Fitting.”

We made our way through the garage and then up the stairs. The door was open, and I could smell the faint scent of finish or wood stain. But only a little before the pine from the wide-open windows took over.

As I stepped inside, I gasped. The space looked nothing like it had just over a week ago. Not only was everything finished, it looked like a literal dream.

In the far corner was a small kitchen complete with a ? fridge, a smallish range, and plenty of storage. And I could see that the glass-fronted cabinets had been stocked with dishes and food. There was even a little coffee station with a machine and all the little supplies. And next to it sat a jar of my favorite wild berry Skittles.

I tried to swallow, to clear the burning in my throat. Because someone had to really pay attention to notice my affection for the candy. My gaze wanted to drift to the man in the corner, but I couldn’t let it. Not yet.

My burgundy chair was in the other corner, and damn if Kol hadn’t been right. Someone had put pale-pink pillows on it, along with a fuzzy cream blanket, and it softened the feel of it right up.

Next to the chair was a side table just large enough for a cup of coffee and a book. And the perch would give me a vantage point out over the forest at the front of the ranch. Absolutely perfect.

A small table for three sat in front of that window with a hand-painted vase filled with wildflowers—likely the last of the season.

“I made the vase and picked the flowers!” Sky cheered, bouncing up and down.

“It’s perfect,” I croaked.

And I didn’t miss a small scattering of yoga gear between the chair and the table. A mat that looked like a watercolor painting, a block in the same design, a strap in soft purple, and a woven blanket that looked so soft my fingers ached to touch it.

On the wall next to the entrance were two doors. I wandered to one of them, peering inside to find a closet larger than I would’ve expected, with plenty of hanging space and a dresser along one wall. The next door was the bathroom. Everything had an antique feel, with a clawfoot tub and shower and a pedestal sink. There were built-in shelves, and everything was done in whites and soothing blues.

I swallowed hard as I stepped out and took in the bed. Someone had gotten me new bedding. It was in the color scheme I’d described to Kol just last night. It looked like a wildflower field of pale pinks, purples, blues, and greens. It was all the same colors but through a calming lens.

But the showstoppers were the bookshelves built around the bed. They were made of the most beautiful pale oak and had room for countless stories and knickknacks. It even had antique bronze reading lamps on either side that stuck out over the bed.

“When I saw your shelves the other night, I knew you needed these. The finish is still drying, so you’ll need to wait a few days before putting anything on the shelves.”

That voice. Low and quiet but somehow with a power that felt as if it vibrated through me. And my whole body recognized the tenor. Finally, my gaze lifted to the source of the sound, the feeling.

And there he was.

Kol stood in a far corner of the apartment, his gaze locked on me. He wore a U.S. Forest Service tee in army green, the emblem over one side of his chest, with a worn flannel shirt over it, dark jeans flecked with paint here and there, and boots that had seen their share of the outdoors and hard work.

I wanted to throw myself at him.

I quickly shoved that urge down. “You …” My voice cracked on the word. “You did … all of this?”

The slightest hint of pink hit cheeks tanned from all his time outdoors. “Fresh starts.”

“He did those damn shelves all by himself,” Wylder cut in, looking my way and waiting for a reaction.

“Hey,” Mav argued. “I helped with the finish.”

Wylder rolled his eyes. “Do you want a medal?”

“I wouldn’t mind a cupcake,” he muttered.

Kol crossed the space and held out a key. It was new but looked antique in its shape, with knobby tines and the very top in the shape of an imperfect heart. “Your key.” He swallowed. “There’s a secondary lock and an alarm, but I thought you’d like the feel of this one.”

I palmed the cool metal in my hand as unshed tears stung the backs of my eyes. I hadn’t cried since the hospital. I’d fought to keep any tears at bay, unsure if I’d be able to stop them if I ever got started. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Kol shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s nothing.”

I stared into those hypnotizing hazel eyes. “It’s everything.”