Page 25 of The Caretaker
“Wha-what are you doing?” I asked.
“Break it,” he said, his shoulders set with determination.
“What are you talking about? I can’t—”
“They’re things, and things can be replaced. You need to get whatever it is inside you out. Break it,” he ordered, his tone gaining strength as mine grew weaker. In demonstration, he slung an ornate vase at the wall. The crash of glass breaking rang out as he heaved. “Break it all. Do whatever you need to. And don’t you dare feel sorry about it afterward.”
My gaze flickered around the room maniacally until I spotted a poker by the fireplace. I grabbed it, letting out a roar as Solace backed out of the room. I shattered everything, tore the innards from the cozy armchairs, and put a few holes in the walls. Not even the darkness outside could compete with the darkness within me.
My muscles were liquefied by the end of my rampage of destruction, and I would’ve sunk to the floor if it weren’t for the shards of broken things scattered everywhere.
The poker fell from my numb hand, and I eyed Solace, who’d remained an unshakable presence in all this.
“Are you done?” he asked. “Did you get it all out?” He seemed fully prepared to let me tear down the whole house if I had to.
I took in the mess I’d made, his childhood memories I’d ruined, and I wanted to crumble. Wanted to find a corner where I could draw my knees to my chest and wither away in peace. I rubbed at my temples, swaying on my feet as Solace swiftly approached to steady me.
“Will you do something for me?” he asked quietly, pulling my hands away from my face.
“Yes,” I said, voice shredded. I would do anything for him, anything to right the wrong I’d just done.
“I want you to try something.” He reached for my clammy cheeks, and I bent forward to make it easier for him. Similar to a cat starved for affection, I leaned into the touch. “For the rest of your stay in Haley Cove, I’d like you to stop trying to remember and justbe. If you need someone to tell you that it’s okay to let go, I’ll be that someone. Let it go, Noon. If only for a little while.”
“But it feels important,” I said. “Remembering feels so important.”
“Thiscan be important too. This moment, right now, me holding you like this, you taking comfort in it, us not being alone. This can be important too, and all the moments that come after it. Don’t miss out on making new memories by spending every waking hour trying to recapture old ones. Live, Noon. Live and let the universe take care of the rest.”
Solace seemed as heartbroken by the idea as I did, but his unflinching stare said everything would be okay, the ocean within that stare ushering me safely to shore.
“Why do you care?” I breathed. “You hardly know me. Youdon’tknow me.”
“What if I said it feels like I do?” he asked, head lowering.
I forced his gaze up with a gentle pull on his braid. “I’d say it feels like I know you too.”
He took my hand, leading me out of the rubble. “Let’s go home,” he said, and my brain snagged on the wordhome, because that was how Solace felt. Like home. “You can take a hot shower while I cook us dinner.”
“But you don’t know how to cook,” I said with certainty.
Solace spun on me, his expression a mix of confusion tinged with surprise. “How do you know that?”
“I-I don’t.” I had no clue why I’d said it, and now I worried that I may have insulted him.
His gaze dug deep into me, then dropped as if coming up empty. That was how I felt. Empty.
“Well, you’re right. I’ll order us pizza. Come on.” Solace drove us back, cranking up the heat when I began to shake from the loss of adrenaline.
Back at the house, I showered, standing under the hot spray for about an hour before dragging myself downstairs in search of Solace, both the man and the feeling.
I froze as I entered the kitchen. He stood with his back to me, hands pressed into the marble island, head hung between his shoulders. He seemed exhausted too, and I was hard-pressed to think of reasons other than myself for why that would be. I backed away, making sure to create noise before re-entering. My heart pitched toward the floor at the smile plastered across his face. It was a show. Intended for my benefit.
“The pizza’s cold,” he said. “But I can reheat it.”
“It’s okay. I don’t really have an appetite anyway. What I could really use is some sleep.”
“Alright. I already got a fire going for you in the living room. I assumed you’d want to sleep on the couch again.” He made his way to the living room with me in tow.
I looked at the front door as he settled onto one end of the couch.
