Five steps later, what feels like forever, I finally make it inside. My eyes widen in wonder. “It’s…” “Clean,” Dakota says. My brows draw together. “Different.” “Wyatt did it,” Davis offers, setting my bag on the floor. “All last summer after you left.” Every trace of Aiden, of that painful night is gone. The bloodstained carpet torn up and replaced by hardwood floors. A fresh coat of paint on the walls. Heavy furniture instead of the cheap IKEA pieces I purchased when I first moved in. The old rock wall fireplace is stained sage green. My tattered fabric couch swapped for a plush wine-colored
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