Credence

He drops my luggage at a door in the corner of the landing, the dim
light from the wrought iron chandelier above barely making it possible to
get the lay of the land up here, but I don’t care right now.
But then it occurs to me he only pointed out his, Noah’s, and my rooms.
“You have another…son,” I say to him. “Did I take his bedroom?”
There are more doors. I wasn’t infringing on their space, right?
But he just turns his head and jerks his chin off to the right. To the only
door on the back wall. The only door between me and the bathroom.
“Kaleb’s room is on the third floor,” he explains. “It’s the only room up
there, so no need for a tour. It’s got a great view, though. Lots of air and
space. He likes space.” He sighs, his words weighted with frustration as he
opens my bedroom door, both dogs rushing inside ahead of us. “Keep that
in mind when you meet him and don’t take anything personally.”
I pause a moment, curious what he means, but people say the same
thing about me. I glance at his door again, guessing there were stairs behind
it, since Jake said his room is on the third floor. Is Kaleb up there? His
brother said he was “in.”
Jake opens my door and carries my cases in, and I follow, hearing the
click of a lamp and see the glow of the bulb suddenly filling the room.
My chest instantly warms, and I almost smile.
It’s nice.
Not that I expected much, but it’s cozy and uncluttered, and I even have
my own fireplace. There are double doors across the room, a bed, a dresser,
and a cushioned chair, everything done in woodsy colors leaving plenty of
room to pace and spread out on the floor if I want to sit like I often do.
A yawn pulls at my mouth, and my eyes water a little.
“Towels are here,” Jake tells me from the hallway. “Let me know if you
need anything.”
He steps back into the room, filling up the doorway, and I stand in the
middle of the space.
“Is it okay?” he asks me.
I nod, murmuring, “It’s nice.”
I feel him watch me, and my muscles tighten. “You don’t talk much, do
you?”
I glance up at him.
He quirks a smile. “We’ll change that.”
Good luck.