Chapter 68

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While Milo was in the kitchen getting coffee, Rain quietly walked around the living room, touching objects, picture frames, trinkets, vases.

This house was so huge—so white. He’d lived here? Him?

How? Why?

“I kept your art studio the way it was,” Milo said, walking back in with a silver tray. “Didn’t touch a thing in there.” He set the tray on the glass table and cleared his throat, glancing around at the modern room full of massive furniture. “And of course Philip’s room is just the way it was, too. You know, now that you’re standing here, in this room, I realize you were always the only color in this house. Well, you and Philip.” Milo’s blue eyes peered into Rain’s face, searching for something, it seemed. “When you told me you were coming, I couldn’t believe it at first. Then I realized this is my chance to show you how much I’ve changed.” He was clearly tense, his voice and movements, nervous.