The *** House

To his credit, Tate gave me space to breathe for a few days. I spent most of my time outside, since the weather was nice. I got to know a few other people a little better, though generally I found that they weren't exceptionally friendly. Evidently, Patrick had told his boyfriend Chad about how I had been slightly unpleasant toward him. And because of my association with Tate, generally the attitude toward me was a bit hostile. I found that I missed Beau, and more importantly, I missed Tate. I didn't know how Violet had done it. Although, I assumed, that after it would be a bit easier with your family around. Not to mention the fact that she had now gone over three years without him. It should have gotten a little easier each day.

Plus, it should have been easier in general when Tate respectfully stayed away.

Instead, that knowledge left me feeling rather lonely. I knew that he was around, and I knew that he was watching me. I hated sleeping all alone when I was used to having someone to talk to. I hated wasting time chattering with people that I didn't really care about just because I had nothing better to do. For example, I genuinely liked Moira as a person, but she was strange and sometimes said unsettling things. It was impossible for me to relate to her.

I found myself sitting in the gazebo and looking up at the imposing windows of the mansion. I wondered which room he was in, and if he was looking out at me. As much as I hated the fact, I wanted him around. I just wasn't strong enough to face this house alone. He was the only one that had really made me feel safe. Now I knew that it was because everyone else knew just what he was capable of, and they were afraid of him. Still, I felt exposed and vulnerable when he wasn't around. The others were more open about their anger toward me when he wasn't standing in front of me, broad-shouldered and defensive.

I had never really thought of Tate as threatening before. He was always slouched, with his sleeves covering the heels of his hands. His eyes were heavy and tired. He had always come across as an average teen, beaten down by the world. I knew now how badly he had fared under that beating.

I wandered back inside and stood in the foyer, looking around and listening for any signs of someone nearby. The house remained quiet, which in itself was somewhat alarming. I slipped downstairs silently and found Nora staring blankly into the room that Thadeus had made his home. I approached her, knowing that I had to confront her before I even considered going back to Tate.

"Nora?" I asked, stopping a couple of feet away from her.

The blonde woman blinked rapidly, trying to focus on me instead of staring off into space. "Who are you?"

I frowned. I had spoken to her several times now. She seemed to have lost her wits long ago. It might have had something to do with the bullet hole through the back of her skull. "I'm Ainsley," I told her, trying to remain patient. "I live upstairs. With Tate."

"Oh, yes," she replied, her tone clipped and short. "Tate. He is a good boy. Are you keeping him up there?"

"He chose to stay," I said, growing less tolerant of her with each passing second. "Listen, I need to talk to you about him."

"Whatever could you need to talk about? I haven't seen him in weeks."

"And I haven't seen him in days," I retorted. "That's not the point. I know that he had a certain relationship with you, and I know that he listened to you. To the point of fault, even."

"He helped me," she said, looking slightly lost. "Those men were destroying my home."

I had to bite firmly on the inside of my cheek to keep from losing my temper. "I just need to make something clear, Nora. He is not yours anymore. Don't ask him to do your dirty work anymore. No more killing, and no more babies. Understood?"

Her eyes glazed over and took on a distant look. Her long, tapered fingers settled on her slender neck as she brushed a stray ringlet of hair aside. "He hasn't been mine for a long time. He's old now."

I couldn't hide my disgust. "He's seventeen. Kids grow up, Nora. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I don't really care for you," she told me. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, and for once her eyes seemed totally alert.

"That feeling is so incredibly mutual," I muttered as I turned on my heel. I hurried upstairs and came to a stop in the foyer. I knew that Tate was somewhere around, but he was currently choosing to stay hidden. I cleared my throat. "Tate, will you come here? Please?"

"Are you going to yell at me?"

I spun around and tilted my head back. Tate was standing on the landing upstairs, leaning over the banister and watching me with a cold, guarded stare. The look hurt me in a way that I didn't really understand. He was trying to protect himself from me, while I was trying to do the same thing for myself.

"I'm not mad," I said honestly. "I want this to be over. I don't want to be stuck here alone, okay? I miss you."

The pain and sorrow vanished from his features as he broke into a delighted grin. "I miss you, too." Tate barrelled down the stairs and pulled me into a hug when he reached me. I held on tight, noticing just how nice the gesture felt after a few days of solitude.

I pulled away suddenly, trying to keep my mind free of his intoxicating distractions. "We need to get a couple of things out in the open. I'm not going to lie to you and say that it'll be exactly the way it was right away. I know that you're not that person anymore, but I can't pretend that all those things you've done haven't disturbed me."

He nodded, though he was still visibly relieved that I was forgiving him. "I understand."

"I also am choosing to pretend that Michael doesn't exist. It's weird and unnatural, and for the sake of my own sanity I need to be able to ignore that whole part of this."

"That's perfect. I've never even met the kid. It's easy to make yourself believe that he was never born."

I pursed my lips. "That isn't quite what I meant. I am going to pretend that he isn't real. He is still a part of you, and you need to own up to that responsibility. Maybe Constance has a really good reason for keeping him out of the house, but he is still yours. And whatever grudges the Harmons hold against you are perfectly acceptable in my book. Also, I am going to hang out with Violet sometimes. It has nothing to do with you. I genuinely like spending time with her."

Tate scowled, but he didn't change his happy tone of voice. "I can deal with that."

"And be nicer to Constance," I added, more as an afterthought than anything. "I know that you hate her, and I know that she wasn't a very good mother. But there is more than enough tension in this house, and she is not going to stop coming around as long as Travis and Beau are here. You know that she's going to find a way to die in this house. I'm not asking you to forgive her. I'm just asking you to go a little easier on her. Even if that means that you avoid her, it would be better than screaming at her."

He became inquisitive at my unexpected request. "Why do you care about her?"

I shrugged. "She's honest. And she likes me. I'd like to keep it that way."

He made the smile grace his full lips once more. His perfectly straight teeth poked through. "For you, I'll try."

"That's all I can ask."

"So," Tate paused and drew in a deep breath. "Are we okay?"

I managed to offer up a tiny, unconvincing smile. "No. But we're as close as we can get for right now. The rest will come with time."

"We both have time."

I nodded. "Yeah, we have a lot of time."

He bent down just low enough to sneak a kiss on to my cheek. I couldn't stop the sincere smile that lifted my lips then. I knew that I should have been completely turned off by him at that moment, but he seemed to have been just as lost during our time apart as I was. And no matter what the reasoning, I was glad to be back with someone who actually wanted me around.

"Oh, by the way, I don't like Nora. And she really doesn't like me."

I was surprised to see Tate laugh at my words. "I have that relationship with most people in this house."

"So you aren't mad?"

"How could I possibly get mad when you just let all of my secrets go? I was gunned down by a SWAT team, Ainsley. Pretty much nothing that you could say right now would even be in the same ballpark as that. Why would you be worried about not getting along with Nora?"

I felt a little bit silly when he put it like that. "Well, I know that she was important to you."

"I haven't needed her for a really long time."

"I don't know what you need, to be honest. I just know what I need. And what I need right now is to stay the hell out of that basement."

Tate snorted, and his entire face scrunched up with his silent laughter. "Don't worry, I will never make you go down there. We can stay upstairs with Beauregard forever, if you want."

"I don't want to stay upstairs forever," I said. "Forever is a really long time to spend in one room. With your brother, no less. Not that I don't adore Beau, but it's just that-"

"I get it. We'll figure it out. One day at a time."

I stretched up and kissed him softly. He moved his lips against mine, deepening the kiss swiftly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. I could really get used to this.

"What the hell?" A shriek came from behind me. I pushed Tate away instinctively and faced the front door, where Marcy was standing, looking absolutely furious. "I heard that the place got broken into, but I didn't expect to find teenagers squatting in here!"

Tate and I shot each other a glance, and I fought back a laugh. "I'm sorry," I apologized, my voice breaking with my chuckle. "We'll leave right now."

Tate took my hand and led me outside. We both started laughing hysterically once we had hid from her and continued to stand on the porch. We would have been right in her line of vision if we had wanted to be seen by her.

"Damn kids," she grumbled as she inspected the broken lock. "How long has this been broken? Oh God, I wonder what they've managed to destroy in there."

"Can you imagine if a squatter actually moved into that house? We would destroy them," I couldn't help but laugh at the idea.

Tate cupped my chin in his hand, giving me a mischevious little grin. "Where were we?" And he leaned in and kissed me again.

I found that I was no longer dismayed by the idea of forgiving him.