Chapter 18 What Stayed Unsaid
Cade
The house was too quiet. Usually, silence is a good thing in a home this size, but tonight it felt like it had weight. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the red digits on my alarm clock flip from one minute to the next.
9:14 PM. 9:15 PM.
It had been a long day. My mind wouldn't shut off. I kept seeing Sarah’s face in the coffee shop and then Sloane’s face in the driveway. It felt like I was living two different lives at the same time. In one life, I was a man trying to find out if the woman he was living with was a liar. In the other, I was just a man trying to figure out how to be around her.
I heard a soft sound from downstairs. It was faint. I waited, thinking it might be the house settling, but then I heard it again. Someone was moving.
I got out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt, and headed down the hall. As I reached the kitchen, I saw a glow coming from the wall unit near the pantry.
Sloane was standing there, silhouetted by the light of the digital thermostat. She was wearing a soft robe, her hair a bit messy from sleep.
"Is everything okay?" I asked softly.
She jumped, nearly dropping the glass of water in her hand. She turned around, her eyes wide. "I thought you were asleep."
"I could say the same to you," I said, walking further into the room. "What are you doing to my wall?"
Sloane looked back at the screen, her shoulders dropping in a sign of defeat. "Your house is smarter than I am," she muttered, her voice sounding tired and a little embarrassed. "I was trying to turn the heat up in my wing, but I think I just locked the wine cellar."
I couldn't help it; I gave a short, quiet laugh. The tension that had been sitting in my chest all day eased just a little. "It’s a bit over-engineered."
"I just wanted to stop shivering," she said, stepping aside. "I didn't want to have to wake you up. I thought I could figure it out."
"It’s fine. Here, let me."
I stepped in beside her. The space was narrow, and I could feel the warmth coming off her. I reached out and tapped the screen. "You have to go through the sub-menu first," I explained, my voice low in the quiet room. "This button here for 'Zones,' then you select your room. If you just hit the arrows on the main screen, it tries to adjust the whole house at once."
I pressed the sequence of buttons, and the screen turned a warm orange color. "See? Now it's set. Try it."
I took a step back but stayed close enough to guide her. Sloane reached out, her fingers hovering over the screen. She followed the steps I had just shown her, her movements careful. As she adjusted the temperature, her hand brushed against mine. Neither of us pulled away immediately. It was just a second, a brief touch of skin, but it felt more real than anything we had said to each other since she moved in.
"Got it," she whispered. "Zones. Sub-menu. Warmth."
"Exactly," I said.
Instead of going back to our rooms, we lingered there in the dim light of the kitchen. The refrigerator gave a low hum, and the shadows of the trees outside danced on the floor.
"I used to do this at my grandmother’s mansion," Sloane said, leaning against the counter. "When I couldn't sleep, I’d wander into the kitchen. My grandmother was usually there, too. She had terrible insomnia. She’d be sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a stack of guest logs, acting like it was mid-afternoon."
"I guess it runs in the family," I said.
"Maybe. I’ve just never liked the silence at night. It feels like the house is waiting for something to happen."
"I get that," I admitted. I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. "I’ve lived in big houses my whole life, but I’ve never liked them when they're empty. It’s like they have too many memories and not enough people."
Sloane sat down across from me. She didn't mention Richard. She didn't mention the files we had found or the meeting she’d had earlier. We were just two people who couldn't sleep, sharing a kitchen in the middle of the night. It felt like the walls we had built around ourselves had dropped, just for a moment. We weren't bracing for a fight or looking for clues. We were just sharing space.
As we talked about small things, her grandmother’s weird habit of eating breakfast at midnight, the way the wind sounded through the trees, I watched her. Her posture softened as she spoke. The sharp, guarded look she usually wore was gone. Her voice got quieter and slower as the minutes ticked by.
Eventually, her head began to nod. Her voice trailed off in the middle of a sentence. Her eyes closed, and her breathing became slow and even. She had fallen asleep right there at the table, her head resting on her crossed arms.
I didn't move. I stayed in my chair, watching her. In the soft light, she looked completely unguarded. I could see the faint dark circles under her eyes and the way her hair fell across her cheek. This was who she was when she didn’t know she was being seen. There was no Hartford legacy here. There were no corporate secrets or hidden agendas.
Whatever the truth was, it hadn’t touched this part of her, I thought.
I felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. I thought about the phone call I had made to Sarah. I thought about the fact that right now, an officer was looking for ways to tie this woman to a crime. Looking at her now, it felt wrong. It felt like I was betraying the person sitting right in front of me.
I didn't want to be right about my suspicions. I wanted more than anything to be wrong. I wanted to find out that she was exactly who she seemed to be. A woman caught in a mess she didn't create. My investigation wasn't because I hated her or because I wanted to hurt her. It was because I was terrified of being wrong again. I had missed the signs with Lily. I couldn't afford to miss them with Sloane.
But as I watched her sleep, the suspicion felt like a poison I had brought into my own home. I felt protective of her, even as I was the one putting her under a microscope.
My phone buzzed silently on the counter behind me. The screen lit up, cutting through the darkness of the kitchen. I stood up quietly and picked it up. It was a calendar reminder for tomorrow. A board meeting at 9:00 AM. A contract review after that. An early morning call with the lawyers. The "real world" was trying to force its way back in. It was a reminder that tomorrow, we had to go back to being characters in a story. We had to be the engaged couple. We had to be the investigators.
I looked at the screen for a second, then hit 'Silence.' I didn't even read the details of the meetings.
I looked back at Sloane. She hadn't stirred. She looked peaceful, tucked into the shadows of my kitchen. I could have woken her up and told her to go to bed. I could have carried her. But I didn't want to break the stillness. I didn't want to start the clock on tomorrow yet.
Tomorrow would bring more questions. But tonight, there was just a warm kitchen and a quiet moment that didn't have to mean anything else.
I sat back down in the chair next to her, resting my head on my hand. I stayed there, watching over her while she slept, keeping the silence at bay.
Tomorrow could wait. Tonight didn’t have to. I let myself believe that silence could be a good thing.