“If I’d won, I’d just have a house,” I say. “It would be mine, not ours.”
“I’d probably be over a lot, though,” he points out. “I’ve got more stuff in the trailer than at my mom’s, which is theoretically my home.”
“We’d still just be fuckbuddies,” I say.
“Would we?” he asks, lacing his fingers through mine.
“I wasn’t gonna end it,” I say.
“I was already in love with you,” he says, his voice suddenly soft. “Everyone already knew about us. It was a matter of time before I confessed and put myself at your mercy.”
I just hold him closer.
“Did I ever tell you why I took that picture?”
“Which?”
“That picture.”
He means the one Montgomery got, of course. I flex my fingers, then squeeze his hands.
“Because you were drunk and wanted spank bank material?” I say, lightly.
Eli pauses for a moment.
“Well, that too,” he admits, and I smile into his hair, planting a kiss on top of his head. “But mostly, I wanted to remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”
“When we got drunk and had sex in the barn?”
“When you wouldn’t kiss me in front of people, even though they already knew,” he says. “I didn’t know that mattered to me until then, but it did. I wanted you to be mine and I wanted people to know.”
He pauses. The storm roils, flashes. My heartbeat picks up. I wonder if I’ll ever stop learning new things about Eli.
I hope I don’t.
“And that was when I realized that sooner or later, I was going to have to come to terms with that. So when we were in the barn, and I was drunk, I just… I wanted that moment. That memory. When we were in love and didn’t even know it yet.”
Another pause.
“That backfired like fuck,” he says, and I laugh.
“There was a bad few days, but I figured it out eventually,” I say. “And we got a house.”
“And we got a house,” Eli echoes. “I think this will be good, Violet.”
I kiss the top of his head again, my lips linger a little this time, like I’m pausing this moment. He squeezes my hands, and I squeeze back.
“It’s already good,” I say.EpilogueEliFive Months LaterI crouch down in front of the oven, frowning at the food inside. I think the internal thermometer of my mom’s oven is off, because this lamb roast has been in there for a good forty-five minutes already and it’s nowhere near done, not to mention the potatoes are —
“Are you coming or what?’ Violet asks from the doorway.
“Just a minute,” I say, still frowning. “I think the temperature on this oven is wrong.”
She walks over to me and bends down, peering over my shoulder.
“Looks fine,” she says.
“Thanks for your expert opinion.”
“My expert opinion is quit staring at the oven and come hang out,” she says, landing a quick peck on my cheek.
“What are you even an expert in?” I tease, standing.
Violet doesn’t answer me, but she grabs the kitchen towel off my shoulder and tosses it onto the counter, then grabs me by the arm.
“You’ve been in here all afternoon, and I’m out of things I can ask Caleb about theoretical mathematics or long-distance trail hiking,” she says. “C’mon. I need you.”
I just raise one eyebrow at her.
“If you put it that way,” I say, and wink.
Violet casts a quick glance over her shoulder, at the door to the living room, then steps in toward me.
I slide my hands down her back and grab her ass.
“Is this why you’ve been staying in here?” she asks. “So I’d come find you?”
“Sure doesn’t hurt,” I say.
We kiss. Her arm slides around my neck. I give her ass a good squeeze, move my hands under the thick sweater she’s wearing and she gasps into my mouth.
“Don’t tell me I’ve got cold hands,” I say.
“Well, they’re not warm,” she laughs.
I kiss her more. There’s a burst of laughter from the direction of the living room. After a long moment, Violet pulls back, keeping her arms around my neck.
“Stop cooking and come socialize,” she says. “Please?”
I land a light kiss on her nose.
“Okay,” I say.* * *“That’s not even what eminent domain is for,” Seth is saying, gesturing with his beer, his other arm behind his head. “It’s for highways, or parks, or… you know, things that actually benefit society. It’s not for Walter Eighton to use to get richer.”
“He’s threatening it as leverage,” Silas says. “He doesn’t have much of a case for it, but he’s trying to make the Osbornes think that they can avoid a big legal battle by selling to him.”
Sometimes, I forget Silas is a lawyer. It’s not that hard to forget.
“Do you think it’ll work?” Daniel asks.
Silas just shrugs.
“Hope not,” he says. “They asked my advice and that’s what I said, but who knows. When the easy way out comes with a side of a few hundred thousand dollars…”