Page 70 of Trust

Cash snaps into mock solemnity. “True.”

He pauses for a moment, then says, “She told me she wants to go home.”

That stings more than I was ready for.

“Will you let her?” I ask, watching him closely. Not that he actually has a say in this, but I let him believe he does.

“I want her to stay,” he admits. “But she’s young. This life, here in the middle of nowhere, she’s capable of so much more. If there’s even a chance at normal for her, she should take it.” His voice is calm, but his jaw clenches, giving me a look that cuts straight through me. “But if she’s not safe at home, she doesn’t leave. Period.”

◆◆◆

The storm has picked up. Rain hits the windows harder. Thunder rolls overhead. Lightning splits the sky, turning the cabin into a brief flash of white before the dark returns.

Cash tells me good night when I head upstairs to check on her, but I can tell his mind isn’t in the words. Mine sure as hell isn’t either. He’s clearing up the living room, looking right through me. I guess he’s settling in on the couch again. No chance he’s leaving tonight. The weather’s too rough, and he’s exactly where he wants to be.

Pausing in the bathroom, I tap my fingers against the cold edge of the sink. My reflection hasn’t changed much since this morning, but the man staring back is different.

She wants to go home. It sinks deeper than it should. It was the plan all along. Cash plays it cool, but I know better. I’ll have to keep him from making a stupid decision.

I push off the sink and step into my bedroom. Some floorboards creak beneath my feet. Every step sounds louder in the silence. The house is holding its breath, or maybe I am.

Her door is open a crack. Warm light spills across the floor. I slow, then thump my knuckles lightly against the frame.

She’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled up, chin resting on them, caught mid-thought. The room carries that warm, just-showered freshness. Her head shoots up, startled. Light catches in her eyes. Excitement. A flicker of guilt following close behind.

It hits me then: She’s wondering if I know.

Wondering if I mind.

And then she says it. “He kissed me.”

I don’t move. No tension in my shoulders. My lungs hold a steady pace. I already know, but hearing it from her, hearing her choose to tell me, hits me in the best possible way.

I lean my shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely.

“And?” I ask.

“I let him.” Her voice holds firm, but there’s a question in it. She’s bracing, expecting a reaction that might cut.

“That explains why his tongue is still attached,” I murmur, the corner of my mouth quirking.

She almost answers in kind, but her gaze drops to the floor.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m confused,” she admits. “I feel like I’ve betrayed you even though that doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t.” I enter and motion to the spot beside her. “Can I?”

She nods and scoots over, making room for me.

Legs stretched out, I sit down next to her, hands resting on my thighs. “You didn’t betray me,” I say. “You’re being honest, with him, with me, and with yourself. That doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you brave. You didn’t hide or sugarcoat it. That makes you more...” I glance at her, letting the word come slowly. “Beautiful. I understand why Cash has a thing for you.”

She turns toward me. “And you?”

Surprised by her question, I search her eyes, trying to understand what she’s really saying.

“Do you have a thing for me?”