Page 37 of Van Cort

RIVER

The walk back to the house is quiet, and the weight of the words he said press down on me with every step through the trail back.

Everett is not the marrying kind. Nope.

He wanted a quick fuck, and that’s it.

Except, here we are. At his family home.

Where he’s shared a dark past that he’s still haunted by.

He’s willing to show me a side to him I never thought existed.

This place is everything the rich and privileged have, one more thing to fight against to fit in.

But maybe here, despite his demons, he can be who he is underneath the walls.

In this quaint town that he’s bringing back to life, there is enough peace to let me in.

And here it’s not just about the shiny and expensive. It might be the exception?

Chastising myself, I shake the inferiority shadow off. Everett doesn’t make me feel inferior. And that’s my own complex, not his.

We make it back to the house with no slips or falls, but the silence is agonising. It was a flippant comment, from both of us, yet somehow the quiet stretch of time between us has twisted it into something more than just words.

We step into the great hall, and Everett heads directly to the dining room where he’s worked from.

I think over those stupid words and wish he’d said something else - anything else. We’ve had such a different time here than I was expecting, and I’m positive I’m not ready for it to end like this.

As the thought comes to mind, my brows furrow.

I’ve always been single-minded about my work, and staying will mean missing the pitch presentation preparation, although if I’m now working for Everett, I’ll likely miss it anyway.

It’s terrifying how my feelings have swayed and moved while here, like this place has infected me and gotten under my skin.

Walking through to the dining room, my mind is set.

Everett’s at the table, his eyes fixed on his laptop.

“You know, we don’t have to leave,” I start, and he looks up at me. “It’s late. We can go back tomorrow? I’ll be working for you then.”

“You will be.”

“So, can you afford for me to be here and not at work?”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you might not like the answer to.”

The conversation about vows and marriage slams back to mind, but I smile and don’t let it affect me this time. “I’m not sure I’m ready to give up the Everett I’ve seen here just yet.”

“We can stay as long as you want.”

“I think an extra day or two will be enough. Let’s not get carried away.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could snatch them back. That’s not what I meant. Not really. Maybe it is true, and I don’t want to get carried away, only to be disappointed when things jolt back to reality.

But perhaps after everything that’s happened since we arrived, I shouldn’t keep hanging things off his behaviour at the start.

“You’re sure you want to stay?” he asks, already closing his laptop.

“Yes.” I smile.

“Good.” He stands and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the grand hall and staircase.

“Now I can fuck you all night and have you begging on your knees without a single drop of alcohol in your system. Let’s see just how compliant you are under my hand.

” I swallow at the edge of command in his voice but feel the jolt of pleasure hit low in my stomach.

This is a side to Everett I can enjoy, and I plan to. As many times as he wants.

***

I’m still exhausted when I wake. There’s no Everett beside me, though. I grab a robe and wrap it around me, hoping he’s made coffee wherever he is.

Leaving the bedroom, I head downstairs and follow the glorious smell of fresh coffee, all rich and welcoming.

He’s in the usual spot, and I peer around the door at him, sitting at the table.

My eyes drink him in and try to contrast him with the man who dominated me last night, who took me to the edge and made me shatter again and again.

My cheeks heat, and I push the door open and head straight for the caffeine.

“You’re awake,” he says.

“I am. Morning.” I pour my cup and perch on the edge of the table next to him. “Do we have a plan for today?”

“No. Although I have some work to get to. You can relax. Take a shower. Fix some breakfast.”

“All fine ideas. But not before coffee.”

Everett’s quiet again, and I choose to let him be and go do what he suggested.

***

“I’m glad we decided to stay. Come on. I want to show you something.” He pulls me out of my seat on the veranda several hours later.

“Wait, hang on.” He all but drags me out of the room. “Weren’t you wearing a green shirt before?” I pull back against him as I cast my mind back to this morning. He’s been working since.

“Where we’re going, it might be a little breezy.

You remember the beach we went to for some fresh air?

Well, the island reminds me of that.” He tugs me back towards him as a smile grows over his lips.

There’s no sign of the quiet mood of yesterday afternoon, but then, he did seem to make up for it last night.

And I didn’t hold back. He likes to be in charge, and while it makes me squirm to start with, I can’t deny how sexy he makes me feel.

How wanted he makes me feel, when his green eyes spear right into me as he commands me.

Everett’s relaxed enough to show me glimpses of the person behind the rigid suit and rules, yet, the more I see, the more I want. And that’s a dangerous path, given where we’re at. Especially with said conversation from yesterday.

He grabs a sweater from the back of the chair for me, and we head out of the main steps, leading down the lawn and to the boathouse.

“Hopefully, one of the boats still works. It’s been a while.”

“You’re taking me out in an unsafe boat?” I halt him, but he just wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me with him.

“It’s fine. I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“When you were a kid?” The boathouse is dark and smells a little musty; the air seems thick with engine oil, too.

“Yeah. It’s like riding a bike.” He pulls back the tarp from the boat and jumps in, securing oars, brushing off the seats and checking the motors. “Hand me the gas.”

I look around and see two cans in the far corner and fetch one.

After everything appears ready, he stands and lifts his hand for me to hold as I climb on board. It sways in the water as I add my weight, and I sit quickly.

“First time?”

“First time.”

He laughs a little and shakes his head before starting the motor and steering us out of the boathouse.

As soon as we’re clear, we speed up. The wind whips my hair across my face, and my fingers struggle to pull it together to tuck the long strands inside my sweater.

The air is biting as we steer headlong towards the island.

I grip the bench with my free hand, keeping me stable, and concentrate on keeping my eyes facing forward and not on the rock and movement of the boat.

The journey doesn’t take more than a few minutes, and he heads straight for the small jetty. It looks like it’s seen better days, with one of the posts crooked and wonky.

“Watch your step.”

We make it to the pebbly shore, and he leads us up what could have been a path at one point in time. It’s overgrown and wild now. It’s a good description of this place, as I look around the area. The rocky and stony shore makes way for patches of dense forest, similar to that back on the mainland.

Taking my hand, he squeezes it tightly as we walk further onto the island. The only sounds around are our footsteps as he leads us around the edge of the island, keeping the shade of the forest to our right.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Partly. This was a place to flee to. To escape.”

His words give me pause as I imagine what it might feel like to want to run away or escape someone or something. His past comments come back to me, and it’s not hard to conjure up a terrible image of what his time here was for.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer.

He ignores my offer, but I know this isn’t a time to press. “The cabin should be up ahead. Assuming it’s still there.”

Sure enough, a way back from the jetty, is an old cabin, worn and ramshackled.

The bones of the building are still there, made from solid wood, as if the trees around us are crafted into the building, but time and the elements have claimed much of the cabin’s roof and walls.

He doesn’t stop and walks up to what would have been the porch, perhaps, to breach the threshold.

We both step inside.

“Gosh.” I look around at the mess, the roof now camouflaging whatever was left inside from when it was last visited.

“It wasn’t always like this.” He sounds defensive, like this place meant more to him than he’s letting on.

Pulling back a length of timber, he pushes it to clear a space. There’s an old couch and a log burner in the far corner. Leaves and debris form a soft carpet, but despite it all, I can imagine the hideout – the retreat – this would have been for him.

I stare at him as he moves slowly, his face pensive, as if the memories are too painful. “We don’t have to be here, Everett. I appreciate the gesture.”

“It was a long time ago. I barely think of this place now. In fact, I haven’t set foot back on the island since I left.”

“For university?” I check. That was a long time ago.

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“That’s a complicated answer.” He picks over some of the debris, taking his time, as if unearthing memories that were buried in the bones of this wreck. “I guess this place represented something of my past, and I didn’t want to come back to it.”

“Until now?”

“Until now.” He takes a slow, deep breath before leaving the cabin as if he’s already had enough. I let him go, keeping my distance before following after, my arms wrapping around myself to keep away the chill. “It was always his fault.”

I want to ask who, but I already know he’s talking about his father, so I listen, caught between wanting to know what happened and not.

He sits down on the silty shore of the lake edge down from the cabin. The gentle lap of the water is the only noise, and I watch him drift off and linger in memories.

“He was so strict, so set in his ways, there was never any room for challenge. And, well, boys challenge their fathers, right?”

Sitting down next to him, I keep my arms wrapped around me, now chilled from more than just the cool wind.

“I can’t think back to when I was younger without the shadow of him casting everything in pain and agony. It stretched far beyond the physical, maybe he didn’t even know that. Maybe he just wanted an outlet for his own rage, but it didn’t stop there. It poisoned everything good in that house.”

His words leave far too much for me to imagine in my mind, and my breathing grows thready with nerves.

“When he went away on business trips, it was easier. A reprieve, but only from the physical hurt he doled out. The island and the music room were the only spheres of happiness here, and still, he took those, too. He controlled and ordered everything so that even those sanctuaries were destroyed.”

“I don’t understand why you’d keep this place if all it is is bad memories and pain. I know what you said the other night, but will you ever be able to see it for anything other than a reminder for all that pain?”

“Another complicated answer.” He turns his head, resting it on his arm as he looks at me, a sad sort of curl to his lips. “Seems everything in my life has a complication.” His green eyes darken as a cloud drifts overhead, chilling the air further.

“I used to love the outdoors. Growing up here, despite everything, was one thing that infected my very bones. I’m glad you like it, too.”

“It’s beautiful here, and I’d say peaceful, but I’m not sure if that’s less for you, given this place still holds demons from your past.”

“Demons.” He uncrosses his arms and digs his hands into the silty sand, spreading his fingers through the mud and grit until he pulls up a handful and rubs it between his fingers.

Quietly, he sifts through it, as if gathering his thoughts.

I watch, rapt. This is the second time he’s let me in, but this feels more.

More personal somehow. Like it’s been hidden away in a fragile state of care.

“There were a lot of demons here. Still are. Sometimes, I wonder how it would have felt if I’d fought harder.

Fought back, you know?” I don’t answer, because no, I don’t know.

And it’s like he’s talking to himself anyway.

“Yet the bruises kept coming and I didn’t do a damn thing about them, or deal with the man who kept delivering them.

I just let them happen.” He scowls, as if remembering every minute of the pain he must have been in back then, and I desperately want to touch him, hold him, tell him I’m sorry for what he went through.

“I was weak then. I should have done more to protect…” His words drift off, and I can’t stop myself from scooting closer to him.

“You were a boy, Everett. How could you have protected yourself from that?” No answer. And the silence lingers in the air for some time. I don’t know what to do about it, or what I’m supposed to say, so I sit quietly with him and look at the same enormous skyline he’s staring at.

Water sloshing brings me back to the moment we’re in, and I watch him brush his fingers and hold out his hand to me. “But there are precious things here. More than just wealth.” A roughened pebble falls into my hand, and as I look closer, a golden sheen glimmers on one edge.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Something precious.” He stands and walks back to the path, heading in the direction of the boat.