He’s not asking inane, annoying questions. He doesn’t want me to regurgitate information for his benefit. He’s asking me something useful. Something meaningful.

My heart does that thing again, squirming in the oily mud. Part of me wants to fight Eli’s kindness, just to be able to pull the release and let some of the pressure free from the reservoir of rage and confusion trapped behind the dam. Another part of me wants to burrow into him and hide from the world. I swallow and Eli passes me the coffee, and I take a long sip as I run through the mental list shoved into the back of my brain.

“I need to call Cedar Ridge to keep them updated on Samuel.”

“Leave that with me. I’ll speak to Blake, she’s Fletcher’s wife. She’s an orthopedic surgeon here. She can get the update and make sure it’s provided to Cedar Ridge. What about home?”

“My cleaner, Amy. She’s coming tomorrow but I’ll ask if she can swing by this morning to feed Kane.”

“What about classes? Do you have anything due on Monday?”

“I’m caught up on coursework. The only thing I haven’t done yet was suggest some essay topics for Dr. Halperon’s midterm exams.”

“Okay, let me talk to her. What else?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I can do it. I just need an hour or two.”

“Bria, let me handle it. Dr. Halperon has done enough last-minute shit to everyone else in the department. She can dig up some old essay topics and repurpose them, she doesn’t need you to do that.”

I let out a long sigh and press my fingers to my temple where a headache starts to throb. “Everyone will know, Eli. If you get involved, they’ll talk about why.”

“Do you care?”

No. I don’t. “You do,” I say. It feels like casting a barbed hook into black waters.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” Eli replies, his hand resting against my cheek. His thumb strokes my skin with slow and careful grace. “Actually no, I take that back. I do care. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Halperon. Takahashi. Even the grouchy custodian guy, Dale.”

“Not Dale.”

“Yep. Dale.”

Christ. Why does this simple touch on my cheek feel so good? Why does everything that Eli says seem to slice through shadow like the summer sun? I should be working harder to drive him off. I don’t want to hurt him, even though it feels inevitable whether I let him closer or push him away. We’d both be better off apart. Eli would be safe from me, and I would find another outlet for the helplessness I feel. Swimming. Hunting. Running until my heart explodes. They all have their appeal, but something feels hollow about every option but him.

“Hey,” he says, and I don’t realize my gaze has drifted away to the corner of the room until his voice pulls it back. Eli stands and tugs on my hand to lift me from the chair, taking my place before pulling me back down to sit on his lap. I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I’ve never been held like this before. I feel like a rigid plane of wood until he takes my coffee and sets it down next to his. Then he wraps his arms around me and leans back, tying me into an embrace against his chest. His heart drums a steady percussion beneath my ear and I close my eyes.

“You don’t need to stay, I’ll be fine,” I whisper, my irritation flaring for my weakness as I press myself closer to Eli’s warmth.

“I know you will.”

I squirm a little as this new vulnerability gnaws at my mind. Eli only increases the strength of his hold and I lose all fight when his hand drifts through my hair. “I’m sure you have other things to do today.”

Eli presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I was going to try to convince you to spend the day with me and then sneakily turn that into the whole weekend, so no, I don’t.”

I let out another sigh as I resign to give up the battle against myself, at least for today. I’m suddenly too tired to fight it, but I know it will linger, ready to cause turmoil. Is this what it would be like if I let myself be with him? Would I always have to war my innermost darkness if what I had with Eli wasn’t just sex, but something more?

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Pancake,” he says, as though I’ve spoken my thoughts out loud.

“I can try if you keep calling me Pancake.”

Eli’s smile warms my head as his arms tighten. “You can try, but you won’t succeed.”

We fall into silence. Silence falls into sleep that’s neither deep nor restful. A new routine seems to grow around us like vines. Nurses check Samuel on their rounds. Eli leaves the room to place calls or retrieve food or coffee or water. Machines beep. Voices pass in the hall. The scent of latex and sanitizers drifts through the room. And all the while, Samuel lies still, the only proof of life being the rise and fall of his chest.

At eight o’clock, the visitor hours are over, and I know there’s nothing more to be done but wait for news. Eli doesn’t remind me that they’ll call if anything changes, or that I need to get some rest. I give Samuel a kiss on each cheek and Eli simply takes my hand and we leave. The only thing he asks is where I want to go.

“Home,” I say. “Let’s just go home.”

OceanofPDF.com

23

OceanofPDF.com

BRIA

The gates open as we draw near. We follow the sweeping curve of the driveway and Eli casts me a glance as the house comes into view. Its dark, sharp lines collide with sweeping curves in harmonious balance, deriving its inspiration from contemporary Japanese architecture. Between its size and its style, it’s not your average home in Montana. But Samuel has never been your average man. I still remember the first time he brought me here when his project in Nevada was finished. An oasis, I’d said. Yes, he’d replied. The perfect place for snakes to find cover.

I don’t ask Eli to stay, and he doesn’t ask if he should. It’s what we both want. He simply parks in front of the garage to the left of the house and we enter to the scent of Fabuloso cleaning spray and a fresh bouquet of maroon and yellow lilies in the vase on the kitchen counter. Kane chatters a mewing greeting as I reset the security system and Eli takes in the space.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, entering the living room where he looks at the paintings Samuel has collected over decades of investment. Samuel’s beloved Fazioli grand piano sits at the end of the room, framed by two tall, narrow, north-facing windows whose gentle light never scars its lacquered surface. I watch as Eli tours the room and stops at the fireplace, examining the row of photos on the mantle. Samuel at his retirement celebration with the chairman of the university. Me with two other students in our caps and gowns, graduating with our master’s degrees in New York. Eli picks up the only photo that doesn’t feel like it’s part of a staged show home. “How old were you?” he asks as he points to the image.

“Sixteen,” I reply, uncorking a bottle of Malbec and pouring two glasses. The photo shows me holding Kane as a kitten, sitting on the steps of the back deck of the house. I’m smiling with a shit-eating grin. Samuel is watching me in the background, trying not to scowl. “It was taken by one of my tutors. Samuel was a bit chagrined that I’d suckered him into keeping a stray cat.”

“How did you manage that? He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to give in easily.”

A dark laugh huffs past my lips as I join Eli in the living room, handing him a glass of wine. “He’s not. But he lost a bet. And when it comes to games, he’s fair.”

“What kind of game?”

I try to dampen the triumph I still feel at winning that particular little bet. It’s one of my favorite trophies to visit in my memory palace. “Samuel thought I couldn’t punch as hard as I knew I could. We tested it out. I exceeded his expectations.” Samuel didn’t think I could kill a man with a single punch, but I had good aim and I went for the throat. It took a minute or two for Malcolm Thompson to choke on the blood that filled his ruptured trachea, but I still succeeded. Of course, I conveniently leave that part out. “As soon as I won the bet, I marched right outside and grabbed the scraggly kitten that had been hanging around for a week. He was pretty easy to catch since I’d been sneaking him bits of ham. Samuel felt a little better when Kane scratched me to high hell for giving him a bath.”