Calder is still a man of many secrets. A man with fears and pain and guilt that I’m only just beginning to understand. Despite everything that’s happened today, I still remember the things he said to me the other night. He tried to push me away. Told me I’d be better off without him, that he was essentially only using me as a distraction. He keeps doing the same thing: turning down sex and disappearing for days at a time, then throwing himself at me like he can’t bear to be apart, then shoving me away once more. The minute I allow myself to believe that he’s finally given in to his feelings, he turns around and builds up his walls again. How do I know that this time the barriers will be down for good?
Something snapped inside of him the moment those reporters showed up at his apartment. It’s all been too much for him, and their appearance was the final straw. He’s slipping, falling slowly into some mad, dark abyss. And now he’s running back to the one place he shouldn’t go. The place he needs to put from his mind, if he’s going to make it through this with his sanity intact.
But I’ll go with him. I won’t question his decision, not aloud. I won’t ask him why he needs to go. I won’t ask him what he plans to do when we get there. I’ll be here, next to him.
Because I love him.
God, it still feels strange to acknowledge that, even in my own head. But it’s true. I love him so much that my chest aches and my throat burns. I turn toward the window so he can’t see my face.
We hit Barberville soon enough, and Calder finally turns onto the small, private road that leads out to the former Cunningham estate. It’s a narrow, unmarked road through a beautiful stretch of trees, and my stomach sinks as I imagine how things will change when the floods of tourists begin to come.
Ten minutes from the highway, we cross over a small river—the very river to which I owe my relationship with Calder in the first place. If this river hadn’t flooded in the storm, if I hadn’t been stranded with Calder in his mansion, this whole thing would have played out very differently.
It’s another ten minutes before the gate looms up in front of us. I suck in a quiet breath when the great stone walls and the wide, ivy-covered gate come into view. I’ve only been here a couple of times and this place still affects me. I can only imagine how Calder must feel right now.
He parks the car and for a moment we both just sit there, staring at the barrier in front of us.
Finally, I look at him and say, “What do you want to do?”
He tugs his hand through his hair. “I want to go in.”
He reaches out the window and presses the button on the call box.
There’s no response.
“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here,” he says.
We get out of the car. When we move closer to the gate, I can see that it’s been chained and padlocked.
“Well,” he says, “you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” He walks along the length of the gate until he comes to the place where, a few months ago, I managed to squeeze through the wrought iron. Calder shoots me a look and begins to climb. Within minutes, he’s made it through the gate and jumped down on the other side.
I’m not about to let him have all the fun. Even though my brain is shouting This is breaking and entering! I find my pulse racing in excitement as I follow Calder. It’s not like I haven’t committed the exact same crime in the past.
“Never thought I’d have to break onto this place myself,” he says when we’re both safely on the other side. There’s a bitterness in his voice that makes my heart ache.
I slip my hand through his as we make our way up the cobblestoned driveway. The live oaks rustle over our heads. On another day, under different circumstances, this would have been extremely romantic.
Calder’s fingers tighten on mine when the large, dark form of the house comes into view. He pauses, and I stop, too, staring at the great shape in front of us.
“Do you know what they’re going to do?” he says softly. “They’re going to turn this place into an amusement park. Charge admission. Give tours. Bui the site where Garrett contributesin to make ld a fucking gift shop.”
“I know,” I say, but I don’t think he hears me. He looks like he’s about to punch something.
“Come Christmas they’ll probably set up an absurd amount of lights and charge people extra to come stare at some ridiculous thirty-foot Christmas tree in the middle of the lawn.” He pulls his hand out of mine and curls his fingers into a fist.
There’s nothing I can say to make this easier for him. I reach out and touch his shoulder, but he ignores the gesture.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m sure they locked the doors. We’ll have to go in around back.”
I let him lead me around the side of the house, back toward the hedge maze. I toy with the idea of asking him to chase me through the maze again, but when we reach the tall hedge walls, I stay silent. We’re past the point where I should be trying to distract him with sex. He needs to do whatever he came here to do.
Eventually, we stop next to a statue of a half-naked woman holding an urn. We’re at the back of the house, and I glance around before stepping forward to examine the stone woman.
“Let me guess,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “If you pull on her arm, a secret passage opens up.”
“Close.” Calder steps around the statue and moves his hand along the wall. After a few minutes of fumbling, he seems to find something—a catch or a latch, I guess, because he gives a tug and suddenly I can see the faint edges of a door where a minute ago I could have sworn there were only stones.
Is this place for real? Even after my previous experiences here, I still have trouble believing it.
“It’s not as mysterious as it looks,” Calder says when he sees my expression. “It’s actually just an extra escape route in case of fires. Once you know it’s here, it’s actually pretty easy to spot.”
If you say so. I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it.
He takes my hand again and pulls me inside. The passage beyond is dark, especially when Calder closes the door behind us.
“I’m sorry it’s so dark,” he says. “My grandfather never bothered installing electricity down here because it saw so little use.”
We stumble down the passage arm in arm. In spite of the calmness of his voice, I can feel his pulse beating overtime at his wrist.
“Truth or dare?” I whisper into the darkness. I know, deep down, that we’ve come to the last round of our little game, but I’m determined to see it through.