Page 183 of On Edge

Deal done.

“Partners.” His fingers are ice-cold, but they warm me up when he tightens them over me. Then pulls me to him, into his arms, and he kisses me again, more demanding this time. And my tummy does a flip.

And then whispers, “As long as that means, you’re mine, little finch,” in my ear, heating the curve of my neck and everything else below.

When I shiver, and not from the cold, he smirks, and my core does a slight clench, reminding me I’m not dead from the waist down, far from it.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

We grab the box off the bench as we walk past, and I pull open the massive door and lead him inside, out of the cold and into my heart. Ben follows.

Somewhere in the warmth of Laine and Jaxon’s glass mansion, with Troy’s hand still in mine and Mercy’s weight in my pocket, Ben enthusiastically peeing on the Christmas tree we just finished decorating...

I feel happy. Maybe, I somehow skipped bargaining, depression, and acceptance, and went straight to the end.

But when he calls me his little finch, like I’m delicate, something to protect in a cage. I remember, I’m his little blade, too, who walked into darkness and didn’t flinch.

Maybe now I can be both.

43

TROY

Two Weeks Later

“We’ll tear out this entire wall,” the interior designer, Pippa, gestures to what used to be the east wing drawing room. “Open it up completely. Floor-to-ceiling windows so light floods in. It’ll be amazing for when you entertain.”

Sage looks at what Pippa is showing her on her iPad. For once, she’s all smiles, relaxed and happy, in a way I haven’t seen her in months. “Can we put the family room here, with the seating facing the lake? Laine has something similar, and I really love it.”

“Absolutely. We’ll modernize the whole thing with heated floors, vertical heating, and smart home integration. This place will be unrecognizable when we’re done.”

Unrecognizable. The word echoes in my mind.Good.

I want Sage to love living here. But she catches my eye, her brow creasing a little. “Troy. Is that okay? This isyourfamily’s house.”

“Was. Now it’s your home,” I say simply. “Do whatever you want with it.”

Pippa looks between the two of us, smile frozen while she waits to see who wins this particular spat. When she realizes we’re done, and Sage is the victor, again, she launches into another explanation about load-bearing walls. I find myself drifting, my attention gravitating toward the west wing, to the room I haven’t entered since Sage came back. My feet carry me there almost without thought, down the familiar corridor, past the portraits Sage now wants to restore for me, to the door that’s standing open.

We don’t keep it locked anymore.

The safe room looks different in daylight. The dust is gone. Sage must have had it cleaned, but everything else remains untouched. It wasn’t always part of the house. My father had it commissioned when his paranoia kicked in. He wanted a secret room with an escape route to the outside, just in case. I had it sealed a year ago when I realized the tunnels were flooded, and the escape part was useless.

But being here reminds me it’s where he would make us hide when the debtors came. There are still my childhood books on the shelves, and my mother’s needlework hanging next to them. On the back wall, dead center, is the fireplace where Father used to light fires and tell me stories about the Swanley legacy.

It’s not been lit since.

I’m staring at the cold hearth when I hear soft footsteps behind me.

“There you are.” Sage’s voice is gentle. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry. Just needed a moment away from discussions about smart thermostats.” I turn to face her.

“You’re not working, are you? You promised.” She eyes me like she can smell an open laptop a mile away.

“I have fifty thousand emails I haven’t even looked at.”

She grins and clasps her hands. “Pippa’s a lot. But Laine swears by her. She does everything sustainable.”