Page 42 of Bitter House

“Thank you.”

I draw in one corner of my mouth. “I figured it’s the least I can do after I dragged you on all of my adventures today.”

His smile is soft and sort of lost, his eyes dancing between mine. “I never mind going on adventures with you.”

“Even when they leave your hands looking like that?” I point at his hands with my fork. The palms of both our hands are red and raw from digging.

He stares down at them but nods. “Even when my hands look like this.”

“Such a gentleman,” I tease, taking my first bite of casserole. It’s too hot, so I strategically take deep breaths until I can swallow, the meal scalding my throat and chest as it goes down.

“I don’t know about that,” he says with a laugh. “Just a guy who always wanted his life to be a little more exciting.”

I wave a hand around the room. “How do you get more exciting than this?”

His laugh goes from genuine to serious as it falls away. “How are you holding up, by the way? I know it’s sort of weird with everything we’ve learned.”

I set my fork down, taking a deep breath. “I still don’t know what to believe, you know? On the one hand, everything the letter writer has told us is true, except what we can’t prove, but on the other…I just don’t want to believe it. I want to think I knew Vera. That I wasn’t wrong to trust her. Even if I didn’t always like her, I don’t want to think she was capable of harming anyone—not physically anyway, but the proof is in the backyard. Maybe she fought with my mom over money. Clearly that’s an issue with this family. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe things got out of hand, and?—”

“Look,” Cole says, his voice calm, “as far as we know, Vera had nothing to do with the body in the backyard. It could’ve been there for years before she was here. I don’t know how this person knows about it, but it doesn’t prove anything. And as far as thinking she might’ve hurt your parents, I just…I don’t know, B. It doesn’t make sense to me, you know? I know people do awful things to their family—to their kids—every day, but your mom was an adult, not a toddler who’d annoyed her. Vera wasn’t a monster. Your parents died in a car accident. She would’ve had to plan that. Hire someone. It’s not like she accidentally pushed her down the stairs in a moment of passion, you know?”

I swallow. He’s right, but I don’t know if that makes me feel any better.

“The police ruled it an accident, didn’t they? Your parents?”

We’ve never really talked about them. Or about anything else, for that matter. “Yeah.”

“Then let that be the truth you believe until we have proof otherwise. Until then, it’s just a rumor.”

When we’ve both finished eating, Cole cleans up the meal while I wash our dishes. It’s funny how quiet the house feels now without Vera. Even before, I’ve only known this house with a few people in it—never a house full of people like the Bitters used to have, but her absence is felt in every moment.

I feel Cole move beside me, his arm brushing mine. A yawn escapes my lips as he brushes a piece of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing over my cheek. “Soap.” He smiles, pulling his thumb back to reveal a bit of suds.

“Oh.” I rub my cheek again to be sure it’s clean. “Thanks again for helping clean up. Me and the meal, apparently.”

He folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the counter. “We make a pretty good team, you know? I don’t think it’ll be so bad just sharing this place.”

“Yeah, I’ve actually been thinking, and I don’t know if I’ll want to stay here after everything we’ve learned,” I admit.

He nods, chewing his bottom lip. “I can’t say that I blame you, but you should take some time to think about it. Don’t make any rash decisions, okay?”

“What’s there to think about?”

He studies the floor. “I don’t know. I guess I just think…I mean, this house is yours as much as it’s mine. As much as it was hers. And there are still plenty of good memories that have been made and will be made here, you know?”

“Good memories, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

“For example?”

“Well…what about that time we danced in the kitchen?”

“Danced?” The word feels completely foreign and out of place. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He takes hold of my arms without warning, pulling me to him playfully, and begins spinning us around, dipping me backward. I laugh and roll my eyes. “This time, remember?” he teases.

“Ah, yeah, now it’s ringing some bells.” I wrap my arms around his neck just as he looks down at me, and suddenly, the air in the room shifts. We’re nose to nose, our lips nearly touching. His eyes dance between mine with words unspoken, and when he opens his mouth, I feel his breath on my skin. If either of us tilts our chins forward even just a little bit, I’d finally know what it feels like to kiss him.

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