Before I thought about what it might mean, I texted back, Yes, then powered back down after confirmation she’d read it.
It’d been well over a week since I’d last heard from Sean, but, in my heart, it felt more like an eternity. I wanted to call him. I needed to hear his voice. But I was trying to respect his wishes and keep my distance. I didn’t think it wise to text him, as that would only provide more damning evidence for the police to use against us, not to mention fodder for the media, who were growing impatient out on the street. They became more brazen every time Ian and I left the house, swarming the car, screaming out questions, banging on the glass. It’d gotten so bad, I barely ventured out anymore, which left me feeling trapped, and now lonely since Ian was avoiding both me and the house.
He’d been incredibly stoic the first couple days following his father’s death, refusing to grieve, insisting on comforting me instead. He said Dad would’ve wanted him to step up and take responsibility, to be the man of the house. I tried to keep my emotions in check, but when he’d find me crying in a dark room, he’d throw his arms around me and tell me everything would be okay. And I let him, too. It seemed to give him purpose to step into his father’s shoes. A heavy load for a boy on the brink of manhood, a burden that grew increasingly dense as the days dragged on and his carefully crafted armor began to crack. At that point, he finally let me step up.
I spent every hour with him, day and night. Held him when his grief overwhelmed him and he couldn’t stop crying. Consoled him when his anger at his father became unbearable and he needed to vent his rage. And when reality finally settled in, I sat beside him and rubbed his back as he stared silently out the window—sad, angry, and, ultimately, numb.
But while he accepted his father’s frailties and sudden death, he couldn’t tolerate all the salacious accusations the press continued to manufacture on a daily, even hourly, basis. From then on and with my consent, Ian began to spend most of his time at Gracie’s house, where there were no reminders of his father’s duplicity. No reporters asking loaded questions. And no neighbors whispering in each other’s ears, inventing indecent conjecture about his parents.
I kept away from school, unwilling to let the media circus and their provocative speculations follow me. It would only serve to disrupt the children and the well-orchestrated momentum of their day. So, with Ian gone and nothing to do, I was left alone with only my thoughts for company, and they were anything but comforting. If only I could talk to Sean. I tried to convince myself our separation was a good thing. Early on, I’d been too weak to cut him off. Now I told myself, with everything in complete chaos, I should just let him go. He wasn’t good for me—way too young and a risk I could ill afford should anyone find out. I felt so vulnerable. If he wanted, Sean could publicly ruin me with one short tweet. But down deep, I knew he wouldn’t. He might be afraid at the moment, but he loved me. He’d told me so.
Even after spending an entire day being interrogated by the police, when he found me afterwards on the sidewalk out front of the station, I could still see the intensity of his feelings deep within the warmth of his eyes. Just like the first time we met—that look, the sound of his voice, the way he touched me, and that confidence he wore like a badge of honor—all of it, it did something to me, made me feel things no one else had stirred in me for years. It was like I’d been sleepwalking for the last two decades, only to be suddenly urged wide awake. It’d felt so good, I’d pushed my better judgment aside and convinced myself he was worth the risk. I still believed he was. I just never imagined the risk would be so great. And now, unless I figured out who’d killed Declan and Aurelia and was making it appear as if Sean and I were somehow responsible, that risk was about to increase exponentially.
Fortunately, Ira Breckmeier had just notified me that the Seattle P.D. and Prosecutor’s Office had finally wound up their on-scene investigation and had released Aurelia’s house. As Declan’s executor, I had every right to be there if I so chose. So, armed with the proper paperwork Ira had emailed over, I decided now was the time to do a little investigating of my own.
I didn’t know what the police had found and confiscated, but I was hopeful they’d left something, anything that might prove useful to me. Or Sean. While I certainly had a few nagging doubts, I trusted my gut and my heart, both of which told me Sean was incapable of homicide. Though I’d witnessed his battle with jealousy, and I’d experienced firsthand how that had manifested into his need to claim me in a way that left no doubt as to who he believed possessed me, body and soul, I could not accept that those feelings had compelled him to murder. Regardless of what I did or didn’t believe, he was at risk as much as I was. Perhaps more. So there was no one better than Sean to help me get to the bottom of this fiasco.
With that in mind, I called his cell. Unlike days past, when he’d answer on the first ring, obviously anxious to speak with me, this time, it rang six times. One more, and it would’ve gone to voicemail. But, besides the call itself, I wasn’t about to leave any more evidence the police could twist into proof of collusion. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because Sean answered.
“Eden,” he said simply, his voice under tight control.
“Sean. Hi. How are you?” I asked.
There was a long pause, then, “Okay. You?”
I sighed in response, sad that he sounded so cold and detached. But I understood why. I only hoped, once reunited, we could rekindle the spark we’d once shared. Time, I thought. Give him time.
“Same.” I hesitated, hoping he’d break the icy dam between us, but when he said nothing else, I moved forward instead. “So, um…the police have released Aurelia’s house. I’m going over to look around.”
Silence. Not one word.
“Sean, please—”
“I know I told you I’d go,” he interrupted. “But…I’m not sure that’s a good idea anymore.”
Another sigh on my part. “I understand…but…if you change your mind, I’ll be there. 1419 Newport Way, in about a half hour. If not, just know I’ll miss you. Okay?”
Again, silence.
“Okay, Sean?”
One more awkward delay, then, “Okay,” as he finally relented.
But that was all, and I felt bereft, because Sean—his feelings for me, the fact he was always on my mind—was my life-preserver, the one thing outside my son that kept me and my hope afloat. Without it, I feared I might sink. I knew precisely what I had to do to save myself, the words I needed to say, what Sean needed to hear, and I wanted to give that to him. I did return his feelings. But saying those words now, over the phone, seemed disingenuous. I wanted to look into his eyes when I told him. And I needed him to look into mine, to see the truth for himself. That was the only way he’d truly believe me. But he had to want to meet me halfway. He had to try, too.
“All right. G’bye,” I said and heard the line click dead on his end.
I couldn’t decide what his aloofness meant exactly, if he doubted my sincerity, my feelings, perhaps even my innocence. It felt like more than that, though, like he was hurt, that pain was behind the chill in his voice. Maybe he didn’t merely doubt my innocence. Maybe he not only thought I’d murdered my husband and friend, but I’d set him up to take the blame. That certainly was how Detective Reed had twisted things, as well as the reverse, that Sean had killed on my behalf and was now shifting focus on me, all because he believed I didn’t return his feelings.
Shit. What a clusterfuck this all was!
All the more reason to find out the truth.
So I grabbed Ira’s documents, my purse, phone, and keys, and left for Seattle. When I pulled up to Reely’s bungalow, I noticed yellow crime scene tape still strung across the porch, column to column, as well as a notice stuck to the front door and jamb, just above the deadbolt lock. I glanced around to see if any reporters or neighbors were out, but the street was quiet, absent of pedestrians and vehicles.
So, with a bolstering breath, I pulled my keys from the ignition, opened th
e car door, and stepped out. I closed and locked my car with the remote as I trudged up the front walkway, onto the wide porch, where I found the key Aurelia always kept in her secret hiding place. Frankly, I was surprised it was still there, but it gave me hope the police had overlooked even more inside the house. I slipped the key into the lock, hesitant to turn it with the bright red S.P.D. warning sticker screaming at me to keep away, not to mention the memory of the last time I’d walked in through this front door, the sight of Declan fucking a willingly tied-up Aurelia from behind. But I vowed not to let anything stop me, and just as I was about to twist the key, a familiar voice called out from behind.
“Eden,” Sean said, that pain still evident in his tone.
I spun around and faced him. An enormous smile split my face, and I prayed the relief I felt in my heart was noticeable in every way.
“Sean,” I whispered back. “I’m so happy to see you.”
His shoulders rose and fell before he took the first step and narrowed the gap between us. He smiled, ever so slightly.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, but it was tinged with anguish.
I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. I even took a step closer so I could. But Sean leaned back and shook his head as he snuck glances left and right.
“Inside,” he said. “We need to talk.”
With a nod, I turned back around, twisted the key, and pushed the door open. At first, I stopped in the doorway and started to scan the disheveled space, but Sean gently pushed me forward, closed the door behind us, and locked it. A deep chill ran through me, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I wondered if I should listen to that voice in my gut that told me to run, or the one in my heart that urged me to stay.
“What’re you doing?” I asked as our eyes met.
“I don’t wanna risk being overheard.”
I answered with a nod, but held my ground near the front door, still unsure and more than a little uneasy.
“I didn’t do it, Sean. I swear, I didn’t kill them, and I had nothing to do with whoever did.”
“Eden—”
“And I know you didn’t either. I believe that. I believe that with my whole heart.”
“Eden, look—”
“I love you, Sean. I do. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you, but…I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted you to look me in the eye and see the truth.”
His brow shot upward. “The truth?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Really?”
I nodded and took a step closer. “Yes. Really. The truth.”
He shook his head, turned, and stepped away. “I already know the truth, Eden. I saw it with my own eyes, and it hurt like hell.”
“What’re you talking about? Saw what?”
He whipped back around. “You, Eden. You. I saw you and your husband, and I couldn’t believe you’d do to me what that asshole did to you.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
He stomped over and leaned down into my face. “That night, after I left your house, I saw your husband come home unexpectedly, and I was worried about you. So I came back. I watched you two through the sliding glass door in your bedroom. I saw you, Eden. I saw you!”
My mind raced back over every detail of that last confrontation with Declan, and, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand what Sean thought I’d done. On the contrary, after the initial shock of hearing he’d been watching me, I wondered why he wasn’t angry at Declan for nearly assaulting me, and I couldn’t help my brow from knotting together in anger.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”
“His hands undressing you, his mouth kissing your neck, his fingers slipping inside you! That’s what I fucking saw, Eden! And I saw you not resisting like you swore to me you would. You fucking swore to me you would!” he screamed, his eyes wild and tortured. Then, without warning, he grabbed my face between his hands and ground his mouth into mine as he pushed me backwards into the front door, slamming me hard against the solid wood and crushing my body with his.
But if he thought to scare me, he was deeply mistaken, for all he managed to do was arouse me. I’d dreamed a hundred times of Sean’s lips back on mine, of his long fingers performing their magic, of his massive size filling me inside. My mind had become so obsessed, fixated, and dominated by Sean, when his mouth captured mine, my body took over and slipped into overdrive.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him tight as my hips ground into his. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn I felt Sean’s resolve soften, his possession evolve into passion. But that moment was lost when he pushed off and turned away, his hands raking through his hair and taking it into angry fistfuls.
“Fuck!” he screamed and started to pace in circles.
Though I was panting hard after his kiss, I called out, “Sean, please—”
“Are you using me, Eden?” he accused as he continued to pace. “Was I just some stupid, horny kid you used for a good fuck so your asshole husband would notice you again?”
“Oh my God, Sean, no! Of course not. Please, just—”
“‘Cause I can’t do that. I know there’re a million guys out there who’d love nothing more than to be your fuck-buddy, but I can’t, Eden. God help me, I can’t.” He stopped and looked me in the eye, and my heart broke at the pain in his. “I loved you, Eden. I still do. And you fucking pissed all over that. How could do that, you, of all people?”
I stepped closer. “I told you I love you, Sean.”
He shook his head. “Too late. And your actions speak so much louder.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“I fucking saw you!” he bellowed through clenched teeth.
“You saw me what? Push Declan away when he tried to kiss me? Bite him back when he sank his teeth into my neck?” I yanked at my collar to show him the yellowing bruise. “Or did you see me drive my knee into his crotch when he shoved his hand into mine? Because that’s what happened, Sean, and then he left, and that was the last time I ever saw my husband alive.” I stood in front of Sean, my chest rising and falling in anger and frustration.
Sean stood stock still, his brow bunched in horror. “I don’t… I swear, I saw you—”
“You saw wrong, Sean. Even though you know me better than that. Me, of all people,” I threw back at him.
I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it on the floor when Sean first kissed me, and I walked into the living room, where I tossed my bag down onto the sofa then crossed my arms over my chest, my back to Sean. I heard his tentative footfalls behind me, then felt his fingers skim across my shoulder before dropping away. I turned around, but kept my eyes glued to the floor.
“Eden,” he breathed. “I don’t… I’m… I misunderstood…”
I raised my chin and met his anguished gaze. “Seriously, Sean, I don’t see how you could. If you saw us, if you suspected something, why didn’t you contact me after Declan stormed out?”
Sean’s face went limp for a moment, then it was his turn to stare at the floor. “Because I didn’t,” he admitted. “See him leave, I mean. When I saw him… I mean, when he…touched you, I…I ran.”
My eyes bugged out. “You what?”
Sean looked back up at me and swallowed hard. “I ran. Took off. It felt like a knife in my heart, Eden. I just… I couldn’t take it, not after you promised me. I thought you’d broken that, and I ran away.” His chin dropped to his chest, and he shook his head. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
I snorted. “Yes, you are.”
His head snapped up again. “I apologize for doubting you, but…I bared my heart and soul to you, told you I loved you, yet you didn’t return those feelings—”
“But I did, Sean. I do—”
“You didn’t say the words, Eden.”
“You said you knew me, better than anyone. How could you not know? How could you not see?”
He stared at me for a long minute, then whisp
ered, “I don’t know. I…I don’t know much of anything right now. And the cops… Shit, they’ve got me so damn confused, throwing accusations. I don’t know what to think…or feel.”
I sighed. “Tell me about it. That Detective Reed… I’ve a feeling he’s working both ends against the middle on this one.”
“Why do you say that?”
I shrugged, not sure how to pinpoint what made me think so. “He’s good, that detective. Asks questions in a way that don’t feel like questions; made me give up information without really meaning to. Then he twisted things, first accusing me, then making me think he believed me and throwing suspicion on you.”
“Shit. He did the same thing to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think that man could make Christ doubt God himself.”
With a tired gust of air, Sean slumped down onto the sofa. “I wonder what Reed really thinks.”
“I don’t know, but he even has my son questioning me. Ian suspects something. He saw you at the police station. He knows you’re involved. And now the news reporters are camped out front of my house, charging at us and asking questions every time we come and go. It’s only a matter of time before they figure it all out, that you and I are involved. Then public opinion will turn against us, and we’ll both be crucified.”
I knelt down on the floor at Sean’s feet and rested my hands on his knees.
“Sean, I trust you. I do. I can put all the doubt aside and move forward. But I can’t do it if you don’t. If we don’t trust each other, there’s no way anyone else will either. We have to work together on this, figure out what happened. Otherwise, they’ll tear us apart and turn us against each other.”
He nodded, but asked, “And how’re we supposed to do that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, but…we have to try something. I figure this is the best place to start. So what d’you say? Partners?” I raised my right hand toward Sean.
He stared at it at first, then sighed and captured my gaze. He smiled, and while it was tired and slight, it was genuine and held no small amount of relief.
Stirred Page 24
