Page 334 of Power Play

The blue velvet-bound copy of Wuthering Heights. The journal embossed with a simple CH on the cover. A box holding one of the French pens I loved that she always stole because they are the kind that moved across paper so smoothly it made anything written with it feel important.

I placed everything on the dresser, where the gifts looked like evidence.

Every book proved how closely I listened. Every gift held a version of Charm who trusted me with her thoughts while refusing to trust me with her name beside mine.

I picked up the journal and pictured her opening it. I could see her fingers tracing the letters and her eyes lifting toward me with that soft, astonished expression she wore whenever I remembered something she assumed nobody noticed.

The image didn’t create hope. It made me sick.

I opened the closet, placed every gift on the top shelf, and shut the door. The books disappeared, and Charm would be expected to do the same.

Briggs ran into the room. “The pool has lights.”

“I’m aware pools can have lights.”

“They change colors.”

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“There’s also air hockey.”

“I know.”

“And foosball.”

“I rented the place.”

“And darts.”

I sighed loudly and looked at him. “Briggs!”

He finally noticed the closed closet door, and his eyes moved toward the empty dresser. “You put the books away?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded without making a joke or suggesting I might want them later. He understood the difference between hiding something until I was ready and preserving it for a future I no longer believed existed.

“What room are you taking?” he asked.

“Not this one.”

His gaze shifted toward the bed. “You paid for it.”

“I paid for all of them.”

“So which room?”

I walked past him into the hallway. “The one farthest from hers.”

Briggs followed without commenting that hers was the cabin next door.

We claimed two rooms on the opposite side of the lodge. Mine was smaller, with a queen bed, one window facing the trees, and no fireplace. It resembled the room I would’ve chosen if I booked the trip alone. Temporary and functional would be enough.

Briggs took the room beside mine because subtlety had never been one of his strengths. By the time we returned downstairs, his phone had begun vibrating against the kitchen counter.

He looked at the screen.

“Updates?” I asked.