Chapter 8 - The RestorationSpring arrived in Seattle, bringing pale sunlight through the rain-washed windows of Ballard.
The old garage didn't look like a rundown repair shop anymore. With the backing of the newly formed Crowe-Brooks Foundation, it had been expanded into a state-of-the-art rehabilitation and community workshop—a place where mechanics learned trades, and children with mobility challenges received cutting-edge physical therapy free of charge.
On a Saturday afternoon, the parking lot was filled with laughter.
Chloe, now running without a brace, chased Calvin across the fresh asphalt while Warren fired up a charcoal grill.
Camille stepped out of the office annex, holding a clipboard with architectural drafts for the second phase of the community center. She watched Warren expertly flip a burger, smoke curling around his left arm—revealing the faded burn scar that had started it all.
“You know, you’re a terrible mechanic’s assistant,” Warren called out without turning around. “You spend more time looking at blueprints than handing me wrenches.”
“I’m the executive director of this foundation, Mr. Brooks,” Camille teased, walking over and leaning against the grill. “My job is to give orders, not hand you tools.”
Warren turned, looking down at her with a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Is that so? And what does your executive contract say about stealing the cook’s beer?”
Camille laughed—a real, uninhibited sound she hadn't made since before the fire.
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“It says the cook is contractually obligated to share.”
Warren handed her a cold bottle, his fingers brushing against hers. Neither of them pulled away.
