Page 2 of Bitter House

I wanted to think I might be able to accomplish everything in just a few days, a week tops—which is what I had told Edna, but I think we both know that’s not going to be the case. The house is full, top to bottom, with odds and ends that Vera collected over the years. There are so many bedrooms and bathrooms and sitting rooms and rooms I have yet to explore. It’s going to take me weeks, if not months or years, to go through everything and make a decision on what to keep. Some of it is really valuable, while other things might hold sentimental value.

If there’s anything left of my mom’s, I want to be sure I find it, which means I need to take my time. Every decision left to do with Bitter House is mine.

Though that isn’t new information, I feel more alone than I ever have as I stare around the empty room processing it for what seems like the first time. The emptiness of the house, the silence of it, weighs on me.

I’m digging through the drawers of the desk, trying to decide what should be kept and what can be discarded when I hear the front door open.

My heart stalls.

I should’ve locked the door, but the gate keeps everyone out, so it didn’t cross my mind.

“Edna?” I call, standing up as I move toward the empty doorway of the room I’m currently in, studying it for signs of the intruder.

My mouse-quiet and cautious footsteps slow even more as the person comes into view. My breathing catches in my chest, a ball of oxygen refusing to move another inch until I wake up from this dream.

Nightmare.

Because that’s what it is. What it has to be. There is simply no other explanation.

“Bridget.” A word, not a question. He doesn’t look surprised to see me at all.

I swallow, dusting a hand over my stomach as fury heats under every inch of my skin, like a marshmallow smoldering over a fire. “What the hell are you doing here, Cole?”

He looks just like he did before. Darkness incarnate. Dark hair that is entirely too full and perfect. Dark eyes, and if I was close enough, I’d be able to see the flecks of amber that decorate them, like they’re waiting to catch dragonflies and hold them forever. Waiting to catch anything that will fall into their trap.

Thankfully, I was never so foolish.

The beard is new, I realize, as he runs a hand over it. His brows lift as he smirks at me, then looks away with a scoff. “She didn’t tell you.”

Again, not a question.

“What do you mean? Tell me what?”

I don’t like being on the end of a conversation that holds no answers. Desperately don’t like it when Cole knows more than I do.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Vera left me Bitter House.”

“No, she didn’t.” The response is instant. Knee-jerk. It’s impossible. He’s lying. Why is he here? What does he want? “Are you crazy? Call your mom. She’s the executor. The house is mine.”

He holds up a finger, looking so freaking arrogant I want to smack him. “Actually, it’s ours. She left it to both of us.” His lips quirk with the threat of a smile. “You call my mom and ask. I’ll wait.”

“You’re lying.” He has to be lying. This doesn’t make any sense. I was never supposed to have to see him again.

“Oh, come on. You know me better than that.” He gives me a cocky grin and turns, walking down the hall and away from me without another word.

This already terrible day has just been amplified by a thousand, and he couldn’t care less. He doesn’t want this house, doesn’t care about Bitter House except maybe to extract money from its sale. But clearly he’s taking pleasure out of driving me mad.

I won’t let it happen. There has to be a simple explanation. A way to fix this.

Grabbing my phone, I search for Edna’s name in my recent call log and select it. Within seconds, she answers, as if she’s been expecting to hear from me.

“Bridget,” she says with a cheery voice. “Hello, honey. Did you make it there alright?”

“Why is Cole here?” I ask, avoiding the niceties.

She lets out a slow sigh. “I…Bridget, I didn’t know. I had no idea Vera had left him half of Bitter House until I saw the will. I was just as shocked as you are.”

“It’s impossible,” I sputter. “You’re serious. She…she left it for both of us. Why? Half the house? How is any of that supposed to work? I don’t understand. Why? Why would she do this? She knows we don’t get along. Could she really have wanted to be this cruel?” It’s a stupid question, one that doesn’t require an answer. Vera was cruel through and through. I shouldn’t be surprised that her final act was to further twist the knife.

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