17. Laurie
Chapter seventeen
Laurie
When I come down the stairs, I find Grant standing by the fireplace, staring at the flames.
"We need to talk."
He turns. His face shifts into that careful, controlled expression I've started to hate.
"Laurie—"
"Did you pay my apartment deposit?"
Silence.
"Grant. Did you?"
"Yes."
The word lands like a stone.
"You had no right."
"You needed help."
"I needed to be asked. There's a difference."
He steps forward.
"I was trying to remove an obstacle. You had enough pressure without worrying about—"
"Without worrying about money? Is that what you were going to say?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Grant? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been managing my life like one of your property deals."
His jaw tightens.
"I've been trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From Jessie. From the court case. From being used as evidence in a dispute that has nothing to do with you."
"Except it does have something to do with me now, doesn't it? Because you made me part of it."
"I didn't—"
"You did. The second you let people believe we were engaged. The second you kept me close at that event. The second you decided what I needed without asking."
He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is low and measured.
"Jessie's attorneys are going to question your employment terms. Your housing arrangement. The timeline of our relationship."
"I know that."
"Do you? Because Vivian thinks they'll argue I exploited a vulnerable widow for legal advantage."
The words sting, but I don't flinch.
"And you think pulling away now makes that better?"
"I think keeping distance protects you from being collateral damage."
"You think control protects me. That's not the same thing."
Grant moves closer. His hands flex at his sides like he wants to reach for me but won't allow himself.
"I care about you, Laurie. That's why I'm trying to—"
"To what? Manage the risk? Minimize exposure? Keep me safely categorized as temporary?"
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
I step back because if I don't, I'll break.
"Laurie—"
The fire crackles behind him. Major lifts his head from the rug, watching us.
"I won't apologize for wanting to keep you safe," Grant says finally.
"I need you to trust me."
"I do trust you."
"No. You trust yourself to make decisions for me. That's different."
He looks away.
"I watched people die because I hesitated. Because I didn't act fast enough or make the hard call when it mattered. I won't let that happen to you."
My throat tightens.
"I'm not one of your soldiers, Grant. And this isn't a battlefield."
"It feels like one."
"Only because you keep treating it like one. It's over, Grant. Whatever was between us. Fake or real. I can't keep doing this."
I turn toward the kitchen. The inspection binder sits on the counter where Bethany left it this morning. Tabs color-coded. Photos printed and labeled. Maps, receipts, timelines, everything we built to prove this lodge still matters.
I pick it up.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking this with me."
"Laurie, we need that for the hearing."
"You need it. I made it."
"It's evidence that the lodge is actively maintained. That it serves a purpose."
I hold the binder against my chest.
"I'm not your project. I'm not your responsibility. And I'm not your convenient story."
"You were never convenient."
"But I was useful."
"Laurie—"
"The apartment will be ready for us by Friday." My voice cracks, but I push through. "Bethany and I will be out by then."