Chapter 10 #3
“Ah, Fran,” he says wistfully. “You’ve always had a place here.” Then he sobers, all traces of amusement gone from his handsome, rugged face. “And if I have anything to do about it, you still will.”
It’s a vivid reminder of what's at stake. I know that if he wanted to, he could've killed me. I'm still not out of danger. I'm not sure his brothers feel the same sense of allegiance that he does. I'm not even sure if it's allegiance that he feels…or something else.
Something they definitely don’t feel.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us likely trapped in a world of memories. Back to a simpler time, when we were children, and our only worries were whether or not Santa would bring us everything on our wish list. Back then, I didn't know what his family did. I'm not sure even he did.
He gets up quietly and reaches for my plate. He bends to take it, and brushes a quick, gentle kiss to my forehead. Tears prick my eyes. I wonder if he’s saying goodbye to what we had, the innocence and purity of youth. Or is he christening what could be?
I don’t know.
“I’ll help you,” I tell him, and he nods silently.
I tie the bread and place it on the counter beside another loaf and put the butter in the fridge while he rinses the dishes and places them in the dishwasher. I put the marmalade away, and he rinses the coffee pot. We work in silent, amicable harmony, until the kitchen sparkles.
“I need to get clothes, Tate.”
“Aye. We’ll do that at the main house.”
I look down at myself, flushing pink. “Can’t walk up there wearing nothing but your AC/DC tee.”
A corner of his lip twitches. "You're right. It's too cold out today."
I roll my eyes and head to his bedroom.
“I asked Paisley to drop an outfit off earlier.”
My belly drops. “Paisley knows I spent the night here, then. Why her instead of Islan?”
“Islan spent the night writing a paper and fell asleep facedown at her desk, Mum said. Didn’t want to bother her.”
I nod.
Paisley’s the more sensitive of the two sisters, the youngest of all of us.
I sigh.
“Aye, but don’t trouble yourself about it too much. She won’t ask questions.”
“She won’t ask you questions. Me, I’m fucked.” But when I check my phone, there are no messages from either of his sisters.
He retrieves the bag and comes in a minute later with an armful of clothes. “Here. She left you a note, too.”
There’s a white envelope on top of the small stack of clothes. I take both from him, slide the clothes onto his bed, then open the little envelope. The message is short, written in Paisley’s sloped script.
I didn’t want to text and pry, and felt anything I texted you, my brother could see.
Don’t let him read this. After you read it, toss it in his fire.
I’m not going to ask if you hooked up with my brother, because I REALLY am okay NOT knowing.
I just want to make sure you’re safe.
I just want to make sure my brothers don’t have reasons for hurting you.
I know who they are. I know what they are capable of, and I WILL interfere if I need to.
So when I see you… give me a signal. Shake your head from side to side if you’re in trouble, nod if you’re not.
Or send me a text. “All good” if you’re fine, just “good” if you’re not.
I’ll see you soon.
Tate’s busying himself making the bed and tidying up. I like that he’s a tidy sort.
“Everything alright?”
“Oh, aye, these clothes look good,” I say, as I step toward the fireplace and pretend to be warming myself by the dying flames. His back’s to me, so I quickly drop the paper into the flames, and the fire licks up fast, burning brightly again.
He turns and looks at me curiously.
I put my back to the fire, hoping to block the letter, and smile at him.
“I’ll just go get changed, then… need a shower.”
He nods. “Go on, then. You’ll find everything you need in there. But make it quick, I’ve got to get up to the main house soon.”
I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I frown at the handle. There’s no lock. Who doesn’t put a lock on the door to the toilet?
Honestly?
Whatever, I need a shower. I place the clothes she gave me—a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie—on a little table beside a vase of flowers and look around the room.
Thick, fluffy towels the color of a summer sky sit on a shelf next to the sink.
It’s somehow both modern and antiquated in here, complete with a clawfoot tub.
A girl could soak in a tub like that while reading a good romance, the room lit only by candlelight. Mmmm. Sounds divine.
But he told me to be quick, and I know my place here. I’m only with Tate because he’s keeping an eye on me.
I hear him on the phone in the other room and realize I’ve taken far too long already. I turn the shower on, and while the water warms, open up the wee bag of toiletries.
There are little bottles of fragrant lotions and soaps in the bag Paisley gave me, along with a fresh razor, a small tube of deodorant, and some lip gloss. There’s a shiny blue package I don’t recognize at first, so when I open it, my jaw unhinges at the sight of half a dozen condoms.
Paisley!
I go straight from “oh my God what does she think we’re doing” to “what is she doing with this many condoms?”
Oh my God. I groan and shove them to the back of the bag. I might need them, but she doesn’t have to know that.
I enjoy every minute of this. The large, crystal-clean shower. The scent of high-quality soap and shampoo. Even the razor is one of the nicest ones I've ever used.
I know that my friends are well-to-do. I know they're wealthy, and they live in a really nice house with really nice things. But it isn't until I'm actually staying with them that I see exactly how nice things are.
I'll enjoy them while I'm here.
He knocks at the door. "Yes?"
“Let’s go.”
I want to say no, I'm not done. I'd like another hour or two under this shower that feels like I’m at a spa, thank you very much.
But I don’t. Now isn't the time for me to become difficult. I need to do exactly what he says and mind myself. The last thing I need to do is give him an excuse to tattle on me to his brothers. Or, worse, his father. Hell, anyone. So I go along with it. I'll cooperate.
“Aye, almost done. Just finishing up shaving my legs!”
“You don’t need to shave your legs,” he says, his irritation evident even through the door, muted by the sound of the shower.
“Of course I do. You don’t want to get pricked by barbs.”
I stifle a groan. Oh, God, did I really just say that? Has he read that as an implication in any way that I somehow anticipate my naked legs brushing up against his?
“I like your barbs.”
Yes, I just melted a little. Even though we’re talking about unshaved legs, it’s weirdly romantic.
Still, I quickly zip the razor over my legs, because it’s all lubricated and pink and glides like butter. Heaven.
I finish quickly, towel off, and tug on the clothes Paisley sent. They fit a little oddly, but it’s far better than wearing nothing but his tee.
“You look gorgeous.”
I blink at him from the open bathroom door, stunned. I look down at myself. The clothes are baggy and faded. My hair’s wet, still dripping onto my shoulders and the floor, and I’m not wearing any makeup. Is he mad?
He crooks a finger at me. “C’mere.”
My pulse races as I do what he tells me, curious to what he has in mind.
He steps toward me as I walk toward him, and we meet in the middle.
I look up at him, my neck craning to see.
He’s about a full head taller than I am when I’m barefoot.
I’m not a little girl, but I feel little when I’m this close to him.
Wordlessly, his hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me a little closer.
“You’re here as my guest.”
I nod. “Your guest.”
“You’ll stay by my side.”
“Got it.”
He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out again slowly. “You’re in grave danger around my family. Especially my father."
I nod. "I know."
“I’ll have to tell them all the truth eventually, but before I do, I want to make sure that we've done everything we need to do, to lessen whatever danger my family’s in… and you, too.”
My heart thunders at this, and I feel strangely lightheaded. One false move… one wrong word… and my life is forfeit.
It doesn't matter that I'm best friends with his sisters.
It doesn't matter that they've known me for literally decades.
It doesn't matter that I didn't intend to hurt his family. I've been a danger to them, and now I'll pay the price.