She doesn't move.
"Sit," I say.
She does.
We are three feet apart, facing the fire, not touching.
I say, "You know what happens if you betray me."
She nods.
"But if you play it straight?—"
She cuts me off.
"There is no straight. Only the story we both agree to tell."
I think about this, then laugh.
"You're wasted on the Donnellys."
She looks at me, eyes bright, skin pale in the firelight.
"And you're wasted on this house."
I lean back on my elbows, the heat of the fire licking my shins.
"So, what do you want?"
She looks past me at the wall, the window, the world beyond.
"To be in the room when the decisions are made. Not after."
I nod.
"Done."
She glances at me, unsure whether I'm joking.
I'm not.
"You'll keep me here?" she asks.
"For as long as I need you."
"And after?"
I stand, walk to her, and this time when I take her wrist, she does not resist.
I pull her up, pull her in.
She is taller than I remember, or maybe just standing taller.
I cup the side of her neck, feel her heart racing under the skin.
"If you want to go," I say, "say so."
She doesn't answer, but her lower lip trembles and she bites down on it, which seals the deal for me.
