Every word that Luke spit was a hammer that drove the nail of hurt and depression further into Charlie’s heart. 

Kids that she’d never have with Sam. 

A mausoleum of a house that would never feel right again.

Her jaw set and her arms crossed over her chest, green eyes still ablaze with absolute unhappiness; part of it felt like a betrayal, to hear Luke all but say she’d be living in the shadow of Sam’s memories, but it was true. Charlie watched him stalk around the kitchen like a caged animal getting ready to pounce, but she would hold her ground. That didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the ball of emotion building in her chest, beginning to claw its way up her throat with sharp talons.

It had only been a few months. She wasn’t even thinking about ‘a new guy’. She wanted her husband back, and she definitely wasn’t looking for a replacement any time soon… neither was she looking to use those upstairs bedrooms and fill them with bassinets and mobiles or baby monitors. Part of her knew that Luke was right: she couldn’t just stay here, keeping everything in the same, pristine condition Sam had left it in, but she couldn’t move on, either.

They’d built a life here. They’d had a plan. He’d wanted a working farm and they’d been damn close to it.

[i]What’s the new guy supposed to do? Recreate your dead husband’s dream with you?[/i] 

“Why even fucking ask, then, if you’ve already decided what to do?” Charlie muttered tiredly over the cup, shaking her head before taking another drink of coffee. She was too drained to keep fighting, and the outburst had left her spent. There were plenty of rebuttals she could have made, starting with it wasn’t any of his goddamn business how quickly she made a life that wasn’t centered around Sam.

“I said I wanted to stay.” Her eyes flashed back to Luke’s with renewed conviction. “I’m [i]gonna[/i] stay. So, you can help me or not, I don’t care.” The brunette allowed a shuddered exhale to escape her, sipping the cold, black liquid again. “Christ, Luke. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it.” 

She needed help, as much as it pained her to admit it. Luke had helped Sam around the land more than she had, especially when he spent his leave there. “I…” Charlie wet her lips, her fingers playing with the mug nervously. She should have offered some apology, but it would have only been half-hearted. She’d meant every word she said, just as much as he likely had, too. “There’s always a room for you here. You know that.” If he didn’t, he fucking should have by then.

Charlie knew it was going to be difficult; there wasn’t a part of her that expected to be easy to stay there, with Sam’s truck and the dreams of unborn children filling the house, but it was the right thing to do.

She would need help to do Sam’s job around the farm. She hadn’t exactly had a great income since moving to Montana, but she’d managed. The time she took away from illustrating meant that it was even less money, and -- The words were quiet as Charlie hung her head. “I need you.” She placed the mug gently onto the counter, burying her fingers in Jake's fur as he nudged up against her. "So tell me what you've been doing over the past few months and maybe we can catch up over some bad reality TV?" Charlie's head nodded toward the living room.