Page 34 of The Man in the Cottage

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

She's quiet again, looking around the cottage. At the duffel bag that's never been unpacked. At the books on the shelf. At me, sitting on this couch in the dark, waiting for her to decide my fate.

"My grandmother's note said to let you stay," she says finally. "She said you were a good one. She said to trust her."

"Your grandmother didn't know everything."

"Maybe not. But she knew enough." Kelly stands up, and for a second I think she's leaving. But she doesn't go to the door. She walks toward me, stopping a few feet away. "I'm not going to kick you out, Travis. I'm not going to pretend everything's fine either. You should have told me. That hurt."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"But I understand why you didn't. And I..." She takes a breath. "I don't think you're a monster. I don't think you're dangerous. I think you're a guy who went through something terrible and made a bad decision and has been punishing himself for it ever since."

I don't know what to say. No one has ever put it like that before. No one has ever made it sound so simple.

She sits down on the couch, closer than she was in the armchair. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo, something floral and warm.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"After my grandmother died, why did you stay? You could have left. You should have left, probably. But you didn't."

I think about all the reasons I've told myself. Honoring a promise. Keeping an eye on the property. Not having anywhere else to go. They're all true, but none of them are the real answer.

"At first it was because of my grandmother," I say. "This place was my last connection to her. But then you showed up, and..."

"And?"

I turn to look at her. She's watching me with those dark eyes, patient, waiting.

"I like taking care of you," I say. "That's why I stayed. I know that sounds stupid. I know you don't need anyone to take care of you. But fixing things around the house, helping with your book, just... being here. It made me feel like I had a purpose again. Like I was good for something besides hitting people."

She's quiet for a long moment. I can hear the old clock on the wall ticking, the one Mrs. Dawson left behind, counting down the seconds while I wait to see if I've said too much.

"It's not stupid," Kelly says softly. "I love having you take care of me."

The words hit me somewhere deep. I wasn't expecting them. I wasn't expecting any of this—her showing up, listening, understanding. I spent so long bracing for the worst that I don't know what to do with something good.

"Kelly—"

"I know." She shakes her head. "This is crazy. We barely know each other. You've been lying to me for weeks, and I should probably be furious, and instead I'm sitting here thinking about—"

She stops.

"Thinking about what?"

She doesn't answer. But she doesn't look away either.

The clock on the wall chimes. Once, twice—I count the tones without meaning to. Twelve. Midnight.

"It's Valentine's Day," I say.

She laughs, a little breathless. "I guess it is."

"I didn't get you anything."