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“Paying their room and board is above and beyond.”

“That’s my job.” His tone is firm.

Sometimes, I admire him. It’s clear he gets a lot of value out of serving other people. That’s not a bad trait to have…especially in a partner. Not that we’re anything other than two people playing pretend.

“Is anyone staying there now?” I ask.

“No, it’s been empty since June. I do let the neighbor use the barn and pasture for his horses, though, so we might have some non-human visitors.”

“I’d love that.”

My voice comes out soft. Ever since we landed, the big, awful knot of anxiety in my chest has eased. The world is on the other side of the airport, hidden behind the hills. Right now, it’s him and me, tucked in the back of this sedan.

I want to hold his hand.

Glancing sideways, I study it. It’s big and broad; I’m very familiar with it in a sexual sense. But not woven into mine like we’re something real.

My stomach flutters. I reach out and slide my fingers up the inside of his wrist. He turns his head, eyes falling on our hands. Is he going to pull away? No, he flexes his fingers, opening them so I can put mine in between. A little sweat breaks out on my upper back, and my heart thumps. I wonder if he can feel it against his palm, just pattering away in my chest.

I wish he would. I wish he knew everything I’ve done since I went home. How I lay awake and sorted through every memory like a box of old photographs. But I know I’m not ready for that, so I stay quiet for the rest of the drive until we’re dropped off outside a quaint cabin about a quarter mile down a drive off a state route. He takes our luggage out and tips the driver, raising a hand as the car backs up and leaves.

Then, it’s just us. And miles of hills, a winding river in the distance just visible through the thick tree cover.

“Wow.” I pivot in a slow circle. “This is stunning.”

“It is,” he says, squinting. “I don’t get out here often, I kind of forgot how much I liked it.”

“When did you buy this?”

His jaw ticks. “About eight years ago. My dad always wanted a place in Kentucky, where his mom was from.”

“Oh,” I mumur.

While I don’t remember his father, Scott, well. Dad was good friends with him before he passed. Instantly, I feel selfish that I’ve never asked Jamie about it. It seems like an obvious thing to ask how he’s doing, even though it’s been a while. Just out of consideration. I open my mouth, but he meets my gaze.

“I don’t really talk about my father,” he says, not unkindly.

“Okay, I get it,” I amend.

His jaw works lightly. “Maybe I should.”

I wasn’t expecting him to go back on it that fast. “It’s whatever you want, but I’m sure therapy would help you out.”

He laughs shortly. “I’m sure it would. Come on, let’s go in.”

The rough gray wood steps creak as I follow him on the square front porch. Now that I’m closer, it’s clear it’s an older building that someone put quite a bit of effort and time into authentic restoration. The siding is overlapped, rough-hewn boards, the roof of faux thatching, with a stone chimney rising from it. Everything is so ordinary and homey.

It’s a sanctuary. A place where the world doesn’t exist.

I’m here with him. He brought me here. To hide with me?

Inside, he flicks on the lights. The door falls shut, and my eyes adjust, taking in the deep chestnut walls and floor, the burgundy leather furniture, and dark marble countertops. Oh, this place is nice.

“Did you do all the fixing up?” I ask, turning in a circle.

“Sort of. I had a local guy restore it,” he says, dragging the luggage across the living room.

He disappears through a door to the left of the enormous hearth. I go, leaning in the entrance. He’s rolling our luggage to the end of the bed.