Page 24 of The Caretaker
We pulled up to an old white farmhouse that obviously hadn’t been in use for a while. The window shutters would have benefited from a fresh paint job, and the wooden porch steps looked unreliable. Aside from a few other minor repairs needed on the exterior, the bones of the home were lovely.
“This was my grandfather’s house.” Solace offered up his first smile in hours. “My brother and I used to spend our summer vacations here. He stopped coming once he started high school. He had football camp and groupies at that point,” he said wryly. “I stopped once I started modeling to save for college.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around that,” I said, throwing the truck in park.
“I was surprisingly good at it.”
“Staring thoughtfully into the distance? I don’t doubt it,” I said, and he laughed, the sound throaty and sinful. Shame stretched across my gut as soon as that last description entered my thoughts.
“Why did you build your house at the other end of the property? Why not remodel this one?” I asked as we exited the truck.
“It hadn’t been a working farm for years. I didn’t see the point in being way out here. The plan was to add the stables to this plot of land. That didn’t end up happening.”
“Too much for one person, right?”
“You remembered,” he said with a grin.
“I have plenty of room to store new memories now,” I muttered.
“Are you making any? New memories,” he clarified as he fished a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. He stepped inside before I could admit that I hadn’t been.
Regardless of what I’d said that night we met at the tavern, I was afraid to make new memories. I feared doing so would cost me what I’d lost forever. That I’d move forward and never look back. But when he spoke of second chances earlier, he’d made it sound so tempting.
Instead of answering Solace’s question, I decided to take it for what it seemed to be. A reminder.
“I’d considered selling off this half of the property. Creating an entry point in the back for the would-be new owners, and fencing off the front where I live. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. Plus, one day Gav will retire from the military, and maybe he’ll want to build a life here.”
“Makes sense,” I said absently, trying to work out why my chest tightened the moment I’d crossed into the dust-covered foyer. Solace disappeared into rooms and down halls, flipping on lights as he went, while I fought to remember how to breathe. I turned toward the living room, my hands twitching at my sides.
“You okay?” Solace asked. I hadn’t heard him return, but I glanced back to find him watching me, his gaze probing for something.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I faced him, hiding my shaky hands behind my back, attempting to appear normal, when in actuality my heart had begun the trek up my throat.
“Just checking. Thought maybe you remembered something.”
“No,” I said, even while mentally clawing through every corner of my brain for that dangling string. “The upkeep on this many acres must be expensive.”
Solace didn’t reply right away, and for a moment I thought he might call me on the pretense I was putting up. He looked like hewanted to. “Not as expensive as you would think,” he finally said. “The mortgage on the land is paid off, taxes are relatively cheap. Although the lawn mowing bill never fails to take my breath away. Come on.” He aimed for the stairs. “Let’s start at the top.” He ascended halfway, stopping when I remained rooted to my spot. “Coming?”
“Ah, yeah,” I said, snapping free of my shackles and catching up to him.
By the time we were done, the tightness in my chest had spread through my entire body, until it felt like my lungs were being strangled by an invisible fist.
“Noon?” Solace asked, his voice sounding distant even though I could feel him by my side.
“One second,” I hissed, focusing on that tug I hadn’t experienced all day. I shuffled into the living room. “It’s…it’s right there.” Bells rang in my ears, and sweat beaded along my brow as I yanked and yanked on that string. Flashes of the sun and moon and skin slicked with the aftermath of sex assaulted me. Quick flicks, faster than the speed of my camera shutter. There one millisecond and gone the next.
“Please, please, please,” I begged my broken mind and God. “Please!” I lunged for the memory, but it was too late. It had slipped away.
“Fuck!” I yelled, ripping off my jacket and scarf, bumping into the furniture and nearly tripping over the hem of the sheet covering them. “Fuck.”I counted and breathed, counted and breathed, and fucking counted and breathed again. By the time I’d calmed myself down, my t-shirt was soaked through with sweat, my face drenched in it too.
Solace.I twisted around, finally remembering he was there. He observed me from the other side of the room, as if giving my crazy the space it needed to break free. His face was a blur.
“You’re beautiful when you cry,” he whispered, voice taut. So that wasn’t sweat pouring down my face. “There’s no shame,” he went on. “No pretense of strength. You just…let go.”
“Y-you say that like you’ve seen me cry before,” I said before drying my tears with the backs of my hands. “I’m sor—” I couldn’t say it. I was sick of being sorry. So damn tired of it. “I should head back to the inn.” I nodded, sniffling and peering around for my jacket. I shook my hands out at my sides, attempting to rid myself of the raging energy still surging inside of me. I needed to dump it. I didn’t do well with keeping it in.
“You need to break something,” Solace said, but I ignored him, grabbing my coat and then scanning the floor for my scarf. He began ripping the sheets away, exposing porcelain lamps on end tables, a glass-topped coffee table, vases along a wooden console.
