Marlowe
I found Grant sitting alone near the homestead's half-finished pergola, considerably more subdued than his usual easy energy these past months had suggested, and settled beside him without immediately pressing for explanation.
"You okay?"
"Not really, honestly." He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical labor. "I met someone. A few weeks ago, actually, at the hardware store of all places. Her name's Priya. She's kind, and funny, and considerably too good for someone with my track record."
"That sounds like good news, not bad news."
"It's terrifying news." He laughed, humorless. "I keep thinking about everything I used to be — jealous, petty, someone who threatened to expose my own cousin out of wounded pride. What if she finds out
