“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I figured.”
She leans back against the counter, her attention on me without feeling invasive.
“You can sit,” she says.
I lower myself onto one of the chairs, the wood solid beneath me. Rook jumps up at my feet, settling in like he belongs there.
Holt steps into the doorway a moment later, my bag still in his hand.
“Room’s ready,” he says.
I stand. Claire’s hand brushes lightly against my arm as I pass her.
“Get some rest,” she says quietly. “Everything will get cleared up tomorrow.”
Something tightens in my chest as I nod. Holt turns down the hallway without waiting, and I follow.
The house quiets as we move deeper into it, the sounds of the kitchen fading behind us. The hallway is dim, lit only by a small lamp near the end, casting soft shadows along the walls.
He stops at the last door.
“You can take this one.”
I pause in the doorway. The room is simple. Not empty, but not cluttered either. A bed. A dresser. A chair with a shirt draped over it. Boots set neatly against the wall. A book on the nightstand, open like it was set down mid-page.
It feels like him. Unpolished. Functional. Real.
“You’re not staying in here?” I ask.
“I’ll take the couch.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get the guest room cleared up during my day off.”
I turn toward him.
“You don’t have to give up your bed.”
“I know.”
His gaze meets mine.
“I want to.”
The words settle between us. I look away first. Set my mug down on the dresser. Rook jumps onto the bed like he’s been waiting for this moment all night, circling twice before collapsing into the center with a satisfied sigh.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
Holt glances at him. “He adjusts fast.”
“He betrays faster.”
That earns me the smallest hint of a smile, but it fades quickly.
“Get some sleep,” he says, then he steps back, pulling the door closed behind him.
