Time to Confess

Chapter 2: House Rules

Eli's house sat on the edge of Bellwether, two miles inland from the ocean and far enough from Vale House that no camera crew had found it yet. It was a narrow cedar-sided place with a small porch, a gravel driveway, and a view of the bay between two low hills. The yard needed mowing. A pair of muddy work boots sat by the door.

I carried my own suitcase inside.

"Your room's at the end of the hall," Eli said. "Bathroom across from it. The door sticks. Lift the handle when you close it."

The house was clean without being polished. There were no framed photographs on the walls, only a few bookshelves, a scarred dining table, and a stack of mail he'd arranged beneath a stone bowl. The kitchen was open to the living room. A pot of something simmered on the stove.

"Did you cook?" I asked.

"Don't sound surprised."

"I'm not. I'm trying to figure out how long you've been planning this."

"I wasn't."

"Then why the room?"

"Because I have a spare room."

"And a key ready?"

He looked at me. "I've had the same key ring for years."

I set my suitcase down. "You called six times."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I heard the filing was going through and I knew you'd be at the house."

That answer sounded like the sort of thing a former bodyguard would say. Efficient. No more than necessary.

I followed him into the kitchen. "You could've called to say you were sorry."

"For what?"

"For the fact that I once told you I loved you and you turned me down."

"I am sorry that hurt you."

"That's not the same thing."

"No." He took a bowl from the cupboard. "It isn't."

I hated him for staying calm. I hated myself more for feeling relieved that he was there.

He put a bowl of soup on the table. I didn't sit.

"Are you going to tell me what the rules are?" I asked.

"I did."

"You said tell you where I'm going, don't use your address, pay for food, don't lie. You skipped the part where I'm supposed to not have feelings in your house."

"I didn't make that a rule."

"Because you don't think I have them?"

He looked down at the soup. "Because feelings aren't something I can manage for you."

The bluntness pulled the breath from my lungs. I sat down before my legs could betray me.

We ate without talking. The soup was good. It was irritatingly good, like everything else about him.

Afterward, he showed me the room. A bed, a dresser, clean sheets, a lamp that worked. There was a small window over the yard.

"Your phone charger is in the kitchen," he said. "I moved it when I cleaned the counter."

"You cleaned the counter for me?"

"It was dirty."

I pulled a face. "You've become very warm."

"I was always warm."

"No, you were always on duty."

He didn't answer that. His eyes moved over my face, then stopped on the cardboard box I'd brought from the house. It held a few personal things: a framed photograph of my mother, my old kitchen knives, and a pair of worn leather gloves.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked.

"An explanation."

"About what?"

"Why you're doing this."

"I told you. You needed somewhere to stay."

"That's not an explanation. It's a fact."

"It's enough for tonight."

I should have left it there. Instead, I said, "If this is because you feel guilty about rejecting me, you can stop."

His expression changed, a small tightening around the mouth. "I don't feel guilty about saying no."

"Good."

"I feel guilty about how I said it."

I remembered the fundraiser, the heavy rain, the greenhouse behind Vale House. I'd been twenty-two and furious with my father, and Eli had been the only person who ever listened without trying to fix me. I'd told him I loved him. He'd told me I was confused, that he worked for my father, and that he would never be anything more than my security detail.

"You were right," I said.

"I know."

"You don't have to say that so fast."

"I'm not trying to punish you."

"Then why did you come?"

He took a breath, then let it out. "Because you shouldn't have to sleep in a car."

It was hard to argue with that. It was also hard to accept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. I pulled on a sweater and stepped into the hall. Eli was already standing inside the entry, looking through the sidelight.

He opened the door only a few inches.

A man in a blue suit held up an envelope. "Ms. Vale?"

"I'm not her," Eli said.

The man glanced past him and found me. "Miss Vale, I'm here on behalf of Harborlight Bank. We need to speak with you about the Harrow Point loan."

"I didn't sign a loan."

"Your signature is on the guarantee."

Eli shut the door.

The man knocked again. Eli kept one hand on the lock.

"Was that one of the rules?" I asked.

"No."

"Which one?"

"Don't open the door to someone who arrives before breakfast with an envelope."

A small, unwanted laugh escaped me. Then I saw the look on his face and it vanished.

The envelope lay on the porch. I watched it through the glass.

I had spent my whole life being told that Vale House would always be there. Now even the people who wanted a statement from me had found the door.