Chapter 8: Rule Two

Helen stayed at the lake house for two hours and drank her own tea.

She had followed us from the diner with a casserole and a folder of photographs.

She sat at my grandmother's table and talked about Gregory's good days.

She watched Leander. She watched the stairs.

Twice she touched my wrist, and I let her.

At last she rose and kissed my forehead.

"Sunday, sweetheart," she said. "Come home Sunday. We'll fix everything."

Her taillights went down the drive, and the house went quiet.

Leander locked the door. He checked every window, and I followed him from room to room.

"The tea was clean," I said.

"I know."

"Then why did my father write that?"

"I don't know, Marin."

He turned from the last window and saw my face.

"I don't want to talk about it tonight," I said.

He did not argue.

I went upstairs.

My room was at the end of the hall, with the narrow bed.

His was across the landing.

I stood in my doorway for a long minute.

Then I crossed the landing and opened his door.

He sat on the edge of the bed with his boots off. He looked up.

"Rule two," he said, and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Separate bedrooms. Your words."

"Then throw me out."

He stood. He did not throw me out.

I took his face in both hands and kissed him.

He made a low sound and kissed me back, hard.

His hands went into my hair, then down my back, then to my hips.

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