“I gave her boundaries,” he corrects quietly. “She broke them.”
“But you rebuilt it again,” I say softly, gesturing around the room. “That tells me you don’t like leaving broken things broken.”
His gaze snaps away for a moment, the muscles in his jaw shifting just enough to betray a quiet vulnerability. “Leaving it broken wouldn’t have helped anyone.”
I swallow and nod, taking a step closer to close some of the space between us without quite thinking about it.
“You don’t do things by halves, do you?”
He frowns slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You built her a house.”
His eyes hold mine. “She’s Elle’s mother.”
I nod. “And we do whatever we can to protect the people we love.”
His jaw shifts again, emotion flashing there so briefly, I almost miss it before he locks it back down. I turn back toward the bedroom before I can think about it too closely.
“For what it’s worth,” I add lightly, “I would never do anything to put Elle at risk. But I appreciate you need time to know that.”
He exhales through his nose.
“This isn’t about keeping you out.”
I turn and unzip my bag and start pulling out clothing, folding them into the small dresser next to the bed while he lingers by the doorway.
“I grew up in a big house,” I say after a moment, because it feels fair to offer something back. “With huge rooms I wasn’t allowed to use and furniture nobody was allowed to actually sit on.”
He doesn’t interrupt.
“Three stories, and somehow, I still spent most of my time trying not to take up space in it, especially after my dad passed.”I smooth my hand over the drawer as I slide it shut. “It was the perfect house, but it never felt alive.” His eyes follow me as I turn back to him. “But this does.”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “You’ve been here five minutes.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Still.”
He steps back into the room, his eyes darting between my own, studying me.
“You always test people like this?”
“Like what?”
“Poking at their boundaries.”
I grin. “Only the ones I’m interested in understanding.”
“And what have you figured out so far?”
“That you probably alphabetize your pantry.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
He brushes past me toward the kitchenette, opening the one cabinet above the sink and gesturing inside.
“It’s by size.”
