Page 79 of Trust

In the living room, I kneel in front of the hearth and light the fire. The match catches, the flame flares, and the wood begins to glow. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sink into the armchair.

The subtle clink of utensils in the kitchen creates that strange sense of home. I already miss this, and she hasn’t even left yet.

Eventually, footsteps pad in behind me. Cash drops onto the far end of the couch as if settling in for the night.

“She all right?” I ask after a minute, nursing the glass in my hand.

“She will be.” He rubs the back of his neck, his jaw flexing before his eyes dart to the kitchen. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost looks remorseful.

Firelight fills the room in orange flickers, time stretching until Sara finally appears. Her movements are careful, as though she isn’t sure she belongs here. Her hands are hidden in her sleeves, eyes low but calm. She looks as if she’s debating whether to speak or disappear back into the shadows.

Cash lifts his chin, motioning toward the spot between us.

She hesitates.

“I’m tired,” she says. “Think I’ll go upstairs.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even shift. “Nope,” he says. “You can drift through the movie if you want, but stay here with us.”

His tone stays gentle. He believes letting her hide would only make things worse. I’d let her go, but Cash wants to drag her back into the light, whether she’s ready or not.

I observe her, waiting for her decision. She stands there, jaw tight, weighing it without freaking out. She blinks once. “I need a minute,” she says finally. “Alone.”

Cash straightens. “And then what? You disappear for the rest of the night?”

She exhales through her nose. “Five minutes. That’s it. I’ll come back down.”

He studies her, like he’s deciding whether this is progress or the same escape dressed up differently. “Don’t make me come get you.”

The threat is there, but it’s blunted. More promise than force.

Exactly five minutes later she settles between us. Keeping her distance, she’s tucked between the cushions, chewing the insides of her cheeks, hands wedged under her thighs.

Again, Cash confirmed what I’ve suspected. Give her acknowledgment and a choice, or the illusion of one, and she’ll cooperate. Force her hand, and you get a different Sara. It’s not just anger or defiance showing. It’s the pure refusal to be a pawn. She turns into teeth and claws and would burn the whole board before she lets you win.

Tonight, they bargained, and each of them got what they wanted. Well, Cash is still working on it when he tilts his head and lifts his brows in a silent Come on, that’s not it. Looping an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her closer without effort. She lets him and leans into him with a tired sigh.

Within seconds, her head rests against his chest as her body uncoils. And just like that, she’s asleep.

I guess they both broke a habit tonight.

There’s a peacefulness about her that wasn’t there weeks ago. Cash looks at her like she’s fragile, like she needs protection. I get that, but I also recognize the fire in her. The part that needs direction, not shelter.

“You want the bed tonight?” I ask after a while.

He shakes his head, not even considering it. “This is all I want.”

“Is that so? That’s not what I saw yesterday.”

“I couldn’t hold back if I had her in a bed,” Cash adds after a beat, his voice low, rough at the edges.

I glance over. “Why would you want to hold back?”

His fingers keep moving. “Because if I had her, I wouldn’t be able to give her back to the world.”

For the first time, I truly weigh what it would mean to keep her here, what it would cost her, what it would cost us. I’m already in too deep, and with every passing day, I care a little less about the fallout.

“I’m not sure I want to hold back,” I admit.