Page 11 of Goode Tidings

Clearing my throat, I look pointedly at Eden. Without a doubt, she's the prettiest Andes Mint I've ever seen. From our brief interaction, it seems she is slightly feisty, and a touch silly. She mimicked me, for goodness' sake. I don't love her lukewarm review of my mortifying and totally accidental towel mishap, but that's more about my ego than it is about her.

"We had a miscommunication," Eden explains to Ernest. She's nodding like a bobblehead as she speaks, which makes it appear as if she's lying.

Ernest looks at Oliver, lifted eyebrows inviting him to add his two cents. "You're the one who called. Is she tellin' the truth?"

Oliver throws up his hands. "Sure, yeah. Whatever. Adults are weird." He goes back to Eden's car and pops the trunk, disappearing from view.

"I don't miss those years," Ernest says under his breath. He gives Eden and me one last look, annoyance flickering across his face. "The next time I get called out here, there'd better be blood." He pivots, makes it a few feet away, then stops and turns back to us. "That was a joke, in case you didn't know. Don't make me deal with blood. It's unpleasant and messy. Stains the fuck outta everything."

Um. Ok. How much blood has this guy dealt with?

Eden and I nod our understanding in unison, watching him climb into the SUV. Eden breaks the silence. "That's what my mom used to say when my little brother and I would fight. He was always the first to run and tell her, and she'd say there better be blood."

I'm not sure how to respond. Justin was my sole foray into having a childhood sibling, and that lasted only six years. Turns out our parents got along about as well as we did.

Thumbing back at the cabin, I say, "I'll grab my bag and then be out of the way." I have a lot to think about and plan for, but first up is getting out of the cabin I suppose I shouldn't have been in in the first place.

Eden follows me inside. I'm not sure why. "Where are you going?" she asks. "A hotel in town?"

The lake's not visible from where we're standing, but I point at it anyway. "I have an office on the other side of the hot tub. I'll sleep there until I can figure stuff out."

"Oh." Eden's voice falls flat.

Sighing, I reach around her and snag my keys from the table where I keep them. I remove my house key from the ring and slide it onto the wooden table surface. "Here. This is my only copy."

"Justin gave me a key," she says.

"It won't work."

"You changed the locks?"

"I wasn't sure who had a key."

"Probably the rightful owner." Her face clouds with dismay.

"What?" Weariness tugs at the edges of my voice, making it sharper than I intend. "This isn't a great situation for me, either. Aside from the fact that I'm not technically supposed to be here, I am getting kicked out of my home."

"There's no technically about it. You shouldn't be here. Full stop." She hesitates. "But that's not it."

She looks so torn that I feel bad, and aim for a joke that falls flat immediately. "You can use the hot tub whenever you want."

She shudders. "You were naked in there only an hour ago."

My eyes roll. Her teenage son is rubbing off on me already. "There are a lot of chemicals running through that water. Besides, wearing a bathing suit in a hot tub is for propriety, not cleanliness. The water makes its way over every part of the body, clothing be damned."

Eden takes a couple of seconds to think over my words, and then she makes a horrified face. If I weren't facing the end of my clandestine time at this cabin, emotionally exhausted, and altogether frustrated at being found out, I might laugh at her delayed reaction. But I am all those things, and I cannot summon even a hint of a smile at her reaction.

"There's a second set of sheets in the hall closet. You can strip my bed and put them on there. Unfortunately, there isn't a second bed. I've never had a need for one." Heading for the back door, I say over my shoulder, "We can talk tomorrow. I'll get things figured out."

I'm not really sure what figured out means at the moment.

My feet, shoved into boots with no socks, make a heavy sound as I cross the house to the back door. I'm a few feet through the open door when Eden calls after me. "Shouldn't I have your phone number? Just in case?"

I pause, turning back to look at her. The oddest feeling passes through me. She's in the open doorway, hands gripping the frame on either side of her. Her body leans forward slightly, eyes on mine, and it's dark enough outside now that she's backlit from the indoor lamp light.

A woman is here. In my refuge. Two years ago I stepped away from everyday life to recover from a woman, and tonight a totally different woman will sleep in my bed. The sheets will be fresh, and I won't be with her, but the thought causes an ache in my chest.

"No," I say roughly, answering her question about my phone number. Isn't it enough that she'll be in my living space, leaving her touch and her scent on my things? I prefer not to give her direct access to me.