Chapter 9. Let’s Go Home

Let's Go Home

Claire

A gentle smile curved his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I thought you left me,” he murmured, the words low and laced with quiet relief.

Something deep in my chest fluttered and ached all at once. I moved closer without thinking, my steps hesitant on the floor. “No… I didn’t leave. I told you I was just going to the bathroom. I’m right here.”

His gaze held mine, steady and searching, as if memorizing every detail of my face. “Is everything okay out there?”

“Yes,” I lied softly, my voice catching. The guilt gnawed at me, but his expression—open, trusting, made it impossible to shatter the moment.

Tyler cleared his throat loudly from the doorway. “Can you at least pretend to notice me?"

I was startled. “Sorry—this is Tyler. Your best friend.”

Victor offered a polite reply. “Hi, Tyler.”

Tyler clutched his heart again, staggering back a step in exaggerated betrayal. “Victor, really? ‘Hi, Tyler’? After twenty-five years of friendship? That’s it?”

Victor blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “What else was I supposed to say?”

I jumped in gently. “You two have been inseparable since you were kids. You don’t remember anything about him?”

Victor shook his head slowly, confusion moving through his face before it melted away again as his eyes returned to me. “No. Nothing at all. I’m sorry.”

Tyler made a dramatic face, scrunching his nose. “Well… this is awkward. But hey, at least you’re polite now. Amnesia suits you, man. I might actually prefer this version.”

“Tyler!” I frowned, shooting him a warning look, though a smile tugged at my lips.

“My bad, my bad.” Tyler held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter.

Dad and Tyler left later that afternoon, promising to check in soon. I stayed. For the next three days, the hospital room became our small, fragile world.

Victor was gentle in ways that surprised me. When nurses came to check his vitals, he’d reach for my hand without hesitation, threading his fingers through mine. “Stay close,” he’d whisper. “Your presence makes the needles feel smaller.”

In the quiet evenings, he’d pat the space beside him on the bed. “I want to hear your voice. It settles something restless in me—like coming home after years away.” I’d sit there, heart pounding, while he watched me with eyes that made my skin tingle. His eyes never left my face, soft and adoring. Every smile he gave me sent a rush of bittersweet joy through me, followed immediately by a cold spike of fear. How long until this shatters?

By the third day, he was cleared to go home.

I packed our things, folding his clothes neatly. “Everything’s ready,” I told him.

Victor sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. He held out his open palm and looked at me. I hesitated, then slipped my hand into his. His fingers wrapped around mine firmly. “Let’s go home,” he said.

Home. The word landed heavy in my chest. Home with Victor. It felt too big, too good, too dangerous.

We walked down together, his arm around my waist. The driver was waiting. We climbed into the back seat. I stared out the window as the city slid by—horns blaring, people rushing. The car picked up speed, and my shoulders tightened. My hands gripped the edge of the leather seat until my nails bit into my palms.

Then I felt Victor’s hand holding mine. I turned and looked at our hands together. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of this was real.

“You’re uncomfortable with the driver’s speed,” he said softly.

I opened my mouth, but words failed me.

“Come closer,” he whispered.

I was about to shift closer when Victor’s arm slid around me, pulling me across the seat. He guided my head to rest against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my ear. His fingers stroked lightly through my hair.

“Reduce the speed,” he told the driver.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “Boss, this is how I’ve driven you for the past eight years.”

Victor’s hold on me tightened protectively. “My girlfriend doesn’t like it. Anything she wants… goes. Her comfort is the only thing that matters from now on.”

I closed my eyes, even as tears pricked at the corners. For this moment, at least, it felt real.

The driver met my eyes in the mirror for a second, then nodded. “Okay, boss.”

I stayed there against him the whole ride, his fingers playing with my hair, his other hand holding mine tight.

When we reached the house, my legs stopped working at the front door.

Victor’s hand settled on my shoulder. I flinched.

“Claire?” His voice was gentle, worried. “What’s wrong?”

I looked up. His eyes now were nothing like that day—no anger, just care. I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

He studied me a moment longer, then nodded, and he looked around slowly, taking in the big mansion. “This is where I stay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Was I staying alone? Was I living with someone?”

Inside my heart, I felt so sorry for him. He must have been in so much pain that he forgot about Bonnie. Forgot that he lived here with his sister. I was fighting tears right now, but I didn’t want Victor to see it. So I didn’t answer his question. I just said, “Let’s go in.”

When we reached the door, I remembered that I had requested the new code from Tyler, and he gave it to me. I was surprised that Victor still never changed it. The code is the same. The code is Bonnie’s birthday. As I recalled that I had his code before — the one Bonnie gave me, the one I used to sneak in when Victor was not around. So after the last time I was here, he still didn’t change the code. I asked myself again why he didn’t change it.

We stepped inside. Victor kept looking around, touching the back of a chair like it might jog something. “This feels familiar. Like I’ve been here before.”

A voice came from the kitchen. “Of course you’ve been here before. You live here. Welcome home, Mr. Cavendish.”

“Mrs. Smith!” I shouted, excitement bubbling up before I could stop it.

Victor turned to me. “Who is she?”

“She’s your housekeeper... but you fired her.”

“Why would I fire my housekeeper?" he asked.

I stood frozen, heart-pounding, remembering he’d fired her because she’d been helping me. I couldn’t understand. How could she be here now?

Victor waited for an answer, his eyes full of questions I didn’t know how to answer.