That alone makes my chest ache.
“If we want any chance of keeping this quiet,” he goes on, “you need to avoid him as much as possible.”
I swallow. “I agree.”
He gestures vaguely around the house. “So I think it’s best if you stay here. For now. Until everything’s resolved. The house is big enough. Space isn’t an issue.”
I open my mouth, close it again, then settle on the safest response I can manage.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
***
After we clean up together, the kitchen looks spotless again. Jake rinses the dishes with quick, efficient movements while I wipe down the counters. It feels… domestic in a way that makes heat creep into my cheeks.
When we’re finished, I hesitate in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.
“I… um. Do you want to see what I painted now?” I ask, suddenly shy.
“Yes.”
The answer comes so quickly I almost think I imagined it. But he’s already stepping past me.
I blink.
I did not expect that level of enthusiasm from Jake.
Okay, yes, he can be very enthusiastic about certainotherthings.
But about a painting?
I follow him into the living room, where the canvas waits against the wall.
I gesture toward it with a small shrug. “If you want it, it’s yours. For the living room. If not, that’s fine too. And it’s not finished yet. I still need to…” My voice trails off.
Jake doesn’t respond.
His entire body goes still.
I watch his shoulders tighten. Watch his throat move as he swallows.
He stares at the painting like he’s trying to make sense of it.
It’s a photorealistic rendering of his house and garden, captured from just outside. Late afternoon light washes over everything. Warm glow spilling from the windows. The yard pristine, but softened by the golden haze settling over the hedges. The glass reflecting the sky.
Jake steps closer.
He studies it the way he studies game film. Methodical. Focused. His eyes scan every detail.
The line of the roof. The shadows under the eaves. The reflection in the windows.
My stomach knots.
He swallows again.
Then, quietly, “You did this from memory?”
I shake my head. “No.”
