Page 97 of Ink and Ashes
She shrugs, smiling at me. I just shake my head with a grin, then exit the vehicle. She follows suit, rounding the truck to help me with her bags, then we make our way to the front door. I unlock it, opening up to a front foyer that leads into an open concept living room, dining room, and kitchen with high ceilings. There’s a sliding glass door next to the kitchen that looks out over a large backyard with a view of the mountains. The house is painted in shades of creams, using my decor for a pop of colour—mostly blues, greens, and browns. The kitchen is painted the same green as the front door, with white and brown accents and a massiveisland sitting in the middle of it. The whole space is light and airy, and Holland’s jaw falls open as she takes it all in.
“This is stunning.”
I smile. “Thanks. I started building it four years ago, about a year after Ellie died. Been here ever since, and I never plan on leaving.”
“I don’t blame you,” she says as she makes her way toward the view over the backyard. “I wouldn’t want to leave a view like that either.”
It could be yours too, I think to myself. But she’s made it clear that will never happen.
I move to stand beside her, then say, “Let me give you the tour.”
She turns to look up at me, and I lead her to the left side of the house. We walk up the flight of five stairs that leads to a small hallway, then open the door to the first room on the right.
“This is the office. Feel free to set up here to get some work done. I don’t use it, so someone should,” I tell her. The office is decorated in the same colours as the rest of the house. A large desk sits in the middle of the room with the window behind it, facing out over the backyard too. A monitor sits in the middle of the desk, and the walls are full of shelves of books.
She laughs. “Why do you have an office you don’t use?”
I shrug. “Just in case.”
Her eyes narrow, but before she says anything more, I turn to continue across the hall. I don’t open the next door, instead opting to just say, “This is my room.”
Holland hums, and I can tell she’s as desperate to see inside as I am to show it to her. But if I do, I’ll never be able to sleep in that bed again without picturing her in it next to me.
So instead, I turn and lead her back down the stairs to a hallway on the opposite side of the house, next to the kitchen. This one leads to the main bathroom, laundry room, and one guest bedroom. I show her the first two rooms, then swing open the last door.
“This will be your room.”
She takes a step inside, examining the space. There’s a large queen bed that sits in the centre of the room facing the window, wooden night tables that match the bed frame sitting on either side of it. There’s a dresser on one wall and a closet on the other. It’s decorated in mostly shades of beige, but there are natural wood beams on the ceiling to give it a homier feel. It, like the kitchen and office, also looks out over the mountains, and she inhales sharply as she takes in the view.
She spins back around to face me. “It’s perfect. Thank you again.”
I jerk my head, then back out of the room. “I’ll grab your bags.”
I hear her sigh as I turn and head for the living room. Having her move in might end up being a terrible mistake on my part, given how desperate I’m becoming for her. But it’s too late now. I’d never go back on my word, and I’d rather suffer in silence knowing I can’t have her than worry about her every night while we stay at the inn. At least here I know she’s safe.
I grab her suitcase and laptop bag, carrying them back to her room and dropping them in the doorway.
“Thanks,” she says simply.
“Sure thing.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to think of something that will make this less awkward. But nothing comes to mind, so I opt for telling her, “I’m gonna hop in the shower, then I’m probably gonna crash. It’s been a long day. You need anything else before I go?”
She shakes her head, her throat working as she swallows. “I’m good here.”
I nod. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Night, Rhodes.”
“Night, Caldwell.”
I wakethe next morning to the smell of something burning and the fire alarm blaring. Throwing back the covers, I quickly pull onsweatpants and race toward the kitchen.
“Holland!” I call out, worried that something bad happened to her. Instead, I find the kitchen full of smoke with Holland standing on the island, fanning a towel in the direction of the detector on the fifteen-foot ceiling.
I start laughing, which morphs into a cough as smoke fills my lungs.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I head over to the back door and open it.
Her shoulders fall when she notices my presence, her eyes narrowing as if she’s wondering why she didn’t think to open the door herself. “I was trying to cook breakfast for you,” she yells over the alarm.
“Trying?” I cock a brow, making my way over to help her down.
