Page 44 of Ink and Ashes

Colson

I tear down the articles taped all over the room while Holland packs her things, then after a quick goodbye to Mary and Emmett, the two of us make our way back out to my truck.

After loading her bags in the bed, I lead Holland around to the passenger side. I open the door for her, and once she’s seated, I grab her seatbelt and reach over to buckle it for her.

“I can put on my own seatbelt,” she says in an attempt to lighten the obviously dark mood, but it falls flat.

I huff a humourless laugh. “I know you can, Red.”

I shut the door, then make my way around the truck into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, then I pull out of the parking lot and head in the direction of my house.

It’s funny. I’d stayed here a few nights over this past week to get some distance from Holland, and now here I am, bringing her back here with me.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited her to come stay with me—just that there’s no question in my mind this is where I want her to be.

With everything that’s happened in the past week and now the break-in, I need her to be safe, and the only place I know she will be for sure is with me.

Holland’s breathing accelerates from the passenger seat, and I reach over to place my hand on her knee.

“Hey,” I tell her. “Take a deep breath. You’re safe with me.”

She examines me with a curious look on her face, and I would give anything to be able to read her mind right now.

“I know I am,” she says. “This is just…a lot.”

“I know.” I blow out a breath, and she shifts in her seat to face me.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I know I’ve been a pain in your ass, but I appreciate you doing this for me.”

I look at her with a smile, biting my tongue to keep from saying I would do anything for her. Because I would, but I don’t think telling her that will make living together easier.

Twenty minutes and a pizza stop later, I turn into the long driveway leading up to my house. It’s a farmhouse like practically all the houses in town, with dark brown siding, brick accents, and large windows. The front door is painted olive green, and there’s a cobblestone path leading up to it.

“ This is where you live?” Holland asks, disbelief lacing her tone.

I chuckle. “That surprises you?”

“Yeah,” she admits. “I was expecting like…a tent or something.”

I laugh louder at that, and it feels so wrong yet so good. “A tent? Really?”

She shrugs, smiling at me. I just shake my head with a grin, then exit the vehicle.

She follows suit, rounding the truck to help me with her bags, then we make our way to the front door.

I unlock it, opening up to a front foyer that leads into an open concept living room, dining room, and kitchen with high ceilings.

There’s a sliding glass door next to the kitchen that looks out over a large backyard with a view of the mountains.

The house is painted in shades of creams, using my decor for a pop of colour—mostly blues, greens, and browns.

The kitchen is painted the same green as the front door, with white and brown accents and a massive island sitting in the middle of it.

The whole space is light and airy, and Holland’s jaw falls open as she takes it all in.

“This is stunning.”

I smile. “Thanks. I started building it four years ago, about a year after Ellie died. Been here ever since, and I never plan on leaving.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says as she makes her way toward the view over the backyard. “I wouldn’t want to leave a view like that either.”

It could be yours too , I think to myself. But she’s made it clear that will never happen.

I move to stand beside her, then say, “Let me give you the tour.”

She turns to look up at me, and I lead her to the left side of the house. We walk up the flight of five stairs that leads to a small hallway, then open the door to the first room on the right.

“This is the office. Feel free to set up here to get some work done. I don’t use it, so someone should,” I tell her.

The office is decorated in the same colours as the rest of the house.

A large desk sits in the middle of the room with the window behind it, facing out over the backyard too.

A monitor sits in the middle of the desk, and the walls are full of shelves of books.

She laughs. “Why do you have an office you don’t use?”

I shrug. “Just in case.”

Her eyes narrow, but before she says anything more, I turn to continue across the hall. I don’t open the next door, instead opting to just say, “This is my room.”

Holland hums, and I can tell she’s as desperate to see inside as I am to show it to her. But if I do, I’ll never be able to sleep in that bed again without picturing her in it next to me.

So instead, I turn and lead her back down the stairs to a hallway on the opposite side of the house, next to the kitchen. This one leads to the main bathroom, laundry room, and one guest bedroom. I show her the first two rooms, then swing open the last door.

“This will be your room. ”

She takes a step inside, examining the space.

There’s a large queen bed that sits in the centre of the room facing the window, wooden night tables that match the bed frame sitting on either side of it.

There’s a dresser on one wall and a closet on the other.

It’s decorated in mostly shades of beige, but there are natural wood beams on the ceiling to give it a homier feel.

It, like the kitchen and office, also looks out over the mountains, and she inhales sharply as she takes in the view.

She spins back around to face me. “It’s perfect. Thank you again.”

I jerk my head, then back out of the room. “I’ll grab your bags.”

I hear her sigh as I turn and head for the living room.

Having her move in might end up being a terrible mistake on my part, given how desperate I’m becoming for her.

But it’s too late now. I’d never go back on my word, and I’d rather suffer in silence knowing I can’t have her than worry about her every night while we stay at the inn. At least here I know she’s safe.

I grab her suitcase and laptop bag, carrying them back to her room and dropping them in the doorway.

“Thanks,” she says simply.

“Sure thing.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to think of something that will make this less awkward. But nothing comes to mind, so I opt for telling her, “I’m gonna hop in the shower, then I’m probably gonna crash. It’s been a long day. You need anything else before I go?”

She shakes her head, her throat working as she swallows. “I’m good here.”

I nod. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Night, Rhodes.”

“Night, Caldwell.”

I wake the next morning to the smell of something burning and the fire alarm blaring. Throwing back the covers, I quickly pull on sweatpants and race toward the kitchen.

“Holland!” I call out, worried that something bad happened to her. Instead, I find the kitchen full of smoke with Holland standing on the island, fanning a towel in the direction of the detector on the fifteen-foot ceiling.

I start laughing, which morphs into a cough as smoke fills my lungs.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I head over to the back door and open it.

Her shoulders fall when she notices my presence, her eyes narrowing as if she’s wondering why she didn’t think to open the door herself. “I was trying to cook breakfast for you,” she yells over the alarm.

“Trying?” I cock a brow, making my way over to help her down.

“I don’t really cook,” she confesses as I reach a hand up to her. She takes it hesitantly, her delicate, well-manicured fingers a stark contrast to my rough, calloused ones.

She takes a seat on the edge of the island, and I wrap my hands around her waist, lifting her off it.

She inhales sharply as she slides down my bare chest until her feet touch the floor.

Once they do, she makes no move to pull away.

My hands linger on her waist, our breathing turning heavy as I keep my gaze locked on her.

Our height difference is extra noticeable when she’s not wearing those four-inch heels that are practically an extension of her, and I have to fight to keep from placing her right back on the island where we’re eye-level so I can seal my lips over hers.

Her breasts brush against my chest as she shifts where she stands, and a low rumble rises from deep within me. She’s wearing that sexy little green pajama set again, and I can’t stop myself from wondering if that’s what she slept in last night too.

Maybe having her move in wasn’t such a good idea.

I’m about to open my mouth to say something when the beeping of the alarm stops, and Holland pulls out of my grasp before I have a chance to stop her.

I roll my shoulders back as she rounds the island, examining whatever it was that she pulled out of the oven sitting on the stovetop.

I close the back door now that the smoke has mostly cleared, then make my way over to her. I glance down at the pan of what I think was supposed to be bacon but is now just strips of black, a chuckle slipping past my lips.

She glares up at me. “It’s not funny!”

I look from her to the bacon again and my laugh grows harder, wondering how the hell someone manages to burn it that bad. She follows my line of sight and her lips twist into a small smile too.

“Okay, okay. I told you, I don’t really cook.”

“No shit,” I tease. I slip on an oven mitt and grab the pan, carrying the blackened meat to the compost then drop the hot pan in the sink. “How about we leave the cooking to me from now on, hm?”

Her face falls. “I just…wanted to do something nice for you. To say thank you.”

I have an idea for how you can thank me , I think to myself as my eyes drop to her perfectly pouty lips. But I don’t dare say the words out loud.

“You don’t need to thank me, Holland. I’m glad you’re here,” I admit, and her eyes widen.

“You are?”