Page 43 of Tin

“Fuck it.” He slams shut the last of the unexplored cabinets. All of which wound up being empty. “I’ve got some upstairs. I’ll just grab what I need. Be right back.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips as he hurries from the kitchen.

“Wait. Upstairs? There’s still real stuff up there?”

He stops, apparently confused by my question. “Yeah. Why?”

I follow him out into the living area. “I don’t know. That first night we had dinner on the deck, the door was open and I caught a glimpse inside. I wasn’t snooping or anything, but the place lookedlike it had been cleaned out pretty good. Just random trash left lying on the ground. I thought it was weird, but we weren’t really doing the sharing thing back then, so I didn’t bring it up.”

Riker glances back and forth between myself and the door. He’s contemplating something, and judging by his expression, it’s something big. I’m suddenly sorry I asked. We’ve shared plenty already in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not sure I’m up for more monumental revelations.

“It’s my place,” he says slowly. “From when I was married.”

Shit.Why didn’t I see that coming?

“Oh.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s weird. I should have sold it by now. I just...” He exhales loudly, then lifts his eyes and stretches out his hand for me to take. “Come on. It’s easier if I just show you.”

Against my better judgement, I take his hand. Because somehow, I no longer know how not to. Whenever I see his hand, mine simply insists on being in it. So there it is—my palm resting on his, my fingers anchored to him and thereby tying me to whatever lies beyond that door and up those stairs.

He keying in the code on the garage door opener to gain entry to the main house that way, when I’m hit by my moment of truth amid all the lies I’ve been telling myself since the second I met him, and I panic.

“Wait. I can’t do this.”

He turns back to look at me over his shoulder, the garage door already in motion. “I’m not hiding any dragons in here, Quinn. Nothing’s going to happen to you that I can’t protect you from.”

I start to pull back, putting a strain on the grip between our hands. “It’s just...If I go inside here.. .if you show me this last secret piece of yourself, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from you. This whole time...all of my insisting I could just leave in two weeks and never look back...I was just pretending.”

He moves in close, taking my other hand as well. “So was I.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile, wrought with the possibility of loss. “How about we stop?”

“You might not like what you see,” I mumble because speaking clearly and confidently is a luxury I don’t have right now.

“It won’t keep me from looking.” Then he eases the intensity by tugging at the oversize t-shirt I’m still wearing from last night, and grinning. “You should see yourself right now, by the way. Wearing nothing but my ratty old shirt with your hair all a mess. I bet you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.”

I yank my shirt back out of his grip. “Can’t be all that disgusting. You couldn’t keep your hands off me five minutes ago.”

“Still can’t.” And he draws me in for one more kiss before he leads the way inside.

Now that he’s diffused enough of my angsty tension, I notice the shiny black Mercedes SUV parked inside. It’s probably not the most recent model, but it still has the brand-new feel to it.

“You have a Mercedes SUV?” Because I still can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s just not him.

“Isn’t mine,” he says dryly as we walk past it.

“Oh.” Yeah. That makes more sense.

We’re already at the next door, and I’m guessing this one leads to another set of stairs. I take a deep breath and brace myself. Since Riker’s tightened his hold on my hand this time, I won’t be getting a second chance to make a run for it.

“Hang on, let me get the light,” he murmurs while we stand together in the dark. When he finally flips on the switch, there’s an explosion of sparks at the ceiling, and then darkness yet again.

“You should really talk to your maintenance guy about this shit. This place is practically falling apart.” Because bad humor always makes me feel better.

“No kidding. Where is that asshole when you need him?”

Always at my side.But I don’t say that out loud. I just close my eyes and wait for them to adjust to the lack of light. When I open them again, Riker has already navigated us safely to the main level where we enter through the kitchen.

Since it’s an open floor plan, the tour starts pretty much immediately, in what I can only assume is the dining area. It’s hard to say considering there isn’t a single piece of furniture left in the place. Just...stuff. Picture frames mostly. Some random knickknacks. A vase in the corner with a full bouquet still in it, only of course they’re not so much flowers as they are dried-out zombie blossoms.

“So, this style of decorating.. .it’s a minimalist thing?” I don’t know why I can’t just ask a direct question. But then I also kind of feel like this tour should be guided. He’s here. Leading the way. Why isn’t he pointing and explaining as he goes?And to your right we have what was once the formal dining room before the Grinch came one Christmas and took it all away. I don’t know. Something along those lines.

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