“Miranda…” Claire bit her lip. Behind her red glasses, her eyes were sad. “He should pay for what he’s done to you. You know that.”
“I know.” I couldn’t help feeling ashamed, as if I should have known better, or, if only I’d acted a little differently, been a little smarter, none of this would’ve happened.
Claire opened her mouth to say something else, but Owen interrupted her. “Enough. It’s her choice.”
Claire’s gaze flicked towards Owen. She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
What Rhys had done to me was serious. And it wasn’t my fault.
“It’s okay,” I said to Claire. “I understand. And you’re right.”
“There’s a good girl. Good luck at the police station today.” Claire smoothed my hair back from my forehead. The gesture reminded me of my mother, singing lullabies to me in Spanish when I was a little kid: no llores bien mía, no llores más no.
She started towards the door. “You two are so cute together,” she added, with a little grin, and slipped out the door before either of us could respond.
Owen shook his head. “Sorry, she is so—”
I laughed. “It’s fine.” I leaned one hip against the counter, half turned towards Owen. The bright morning sunlight felt good on my back, soothing that feeling of being bruised all over. “She’s great. And I truly do agree with her. I have to be brave.” Being brave once was not enough, or even a dozen times; I had to keep being brave, no matter how hard it was.
With a slight smile, Owen reached across the space between us to tilt my chin upwards. “My brave Miranda,” he murmured, while I wondered if he might kiss me again. He ran his thumb along my cheek, sending the blood rushing to my face. When he dropped his hand, I raised my own fingertips to my flushed cheeks, dazed.
“I should go,” I said. “I should do this before my four o’clock shift tonight. Assuming I’m actually able to work,” I added, thinking about my wrist.
“Or drive,” Owen said. “You’ll probably have to go to the courthouse to file the restraining order, and that’s almost an hour from here.”
I looked up at him curiously.
“That’s where my trial was,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “I spent a lot of time there.”
“I’ll ask Kaye to take me,” I said at once. “I would never—”
“It’s all right, M. I want to help.”
Impulsively, I reached out and touched his hand, skimming my fingers over the muscles of his thumb and the ridge of his knuckles.
His brow creasing, he looked away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Miranda. Not after what’s happened to you.”
“But all of this, with Suze—it’s so unfair.”
He shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it. I’m a free man. I know I’ll never find out what happened to Suze. And…I’ve accepted it.” A pained expression flickered across his face.
“So you have no idea?” I said. “Kaye and Andy said there were other suspects.”
“Yeah, I guess. They were investigating Jonas for a while, but it never went anywhere.”
“I met him, you know. At Suzanna’s grave.”
“What were you doing at Suze’s grave?” he asked blankly.
“I don’t know… I like graveyards.” Unable to stop myself, I asked: “Are you the one who brings her the white lilies?”
“What? No, I never go over there.”
“Oh.” I frowned, embarrassed that I had asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“It’s okay,” he said, exhaling. “I don’t talk about this stuff much. It’s hard not to get defensive.”
“Defensive?”
“As if you won’t believe me after all, once you’ve had a chance to think about it. I know I need to trust you.”
“Yes, you do.” I trusted him enough to take him at his word. He should be able to do the same for me.
“I’m sorry, M.,” he said quietly. “I’m trying.”
I didn’t say anything to that. I knew it was complicated, truly I did, but I also knew there was nothing I could say or do to convince him that I believed him, if he wouldn’t let himself be convinced.
As Owen had predicted, we had to go to the courthouse to file the restraining order paperwork after I gave my statement to Officer Lacroix at Fall Island’s tiny police station. The courthouse was on the mainland, even farther inland than Bellisle. I hadn’t been this far from the island since I’d gotten here two months ago.
The courthouse was a pretty brick building on a quiet, tree-lined street, not too far from a town center. Filing the paperwork was easy, almost anticlimactic. I didn’t have to see a judge. I just gave it to the clerk, and that was that. It was official. There was no going back.
Back on the island, sitting in Owen’s kitchen, I called Andy, because I didn’t think I could face talking to Kaye.
“Hey, M., what’s up?” As always, Andy was simultaneously unruffled and interested.
“So, about work tonight.” My voice shook, and I struggled to stay composed while I told him, as quickly as I could, that my ex had found me in Fall Island last night, and he had sprained my wrist. After a second of hesitation, I told him that Owen had come over and taken me to the E.R., and I was still with Owen now.
“Good,” Andy said. “Glad he’s with you.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“About work,” Andy continued, “no need to come in. When you feel ready to come back, I’ll talk to Emily. Maybe you can hostess for a while, and she can try out waiting tables. She’s been bored lately, anyway.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. “Andy, you’re the best. Thank you.”
I told him I’d come in tomorrow to hostess, if Emily didn’t mind. As we hung up, I heard him say something to Kaye, and the note of dismay in her reply. She would understand eventually.
“I took the day off,” I said. glancing out the window at the sun-dappled pine trees in Owen’s back yard. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”
Owen was leaning, lost in thought, against his kitchen counter. “Where to?”
“Anywhere. I just…need to get the police station and the courthouse out of my head.”
He seemed to understand that. We went outside and crossed into the cool, cathedral-like darkness of the pine forest.
“Andy’s going to let me hostess,” I said. “He was terribly nice about it.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“He believes in you, you know,” I said, with a careful sidelong glance at him. “When I asked them about your trial, Andy was the only one who was sure it wasn’t you. I don’t think Kaye wants to think it was you,” I added apologetically. “She just doesn’t know what else to think, you know? She said it, um, looked bad.”
“Suppose it did,” Owen said, his voice tight.
“Kaye said you had no alibi…”
I watched Owen’s jaw muscles clench, but then he sighed and seemed to force himself to speak. “I didn’t have an—an alibi. I was at home, by myself, practicing the cello.”
We walked onto a narrow deer path, Owen in front of me. I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to stop him from saying whatever he wanted to say. It was hard to believe we were finally talking about this.
“And yes, it did look bad,” he continued, his shoulders tense. “I was supposed to see Suze that night, but we’d argued that afternoon. I knew she had someone else again, even though she had promised me, so many times, that it would stop. So I told her—I told her to forget it.”
“Oh, Owen.” My mouth fell open. “And—?”
“And that was the last time I ever spoke to her. The prosecutor had a field day with that,” he said grimly. “They said I’d found out she was cheating on me, so I killed her in a—a jealous rage.”
“How awful.”
“I was angry with her, but it wasn’t like that,” he said. “I already knew, I’d always known, that Suze just…wasn’t wired for mono
gamy, I guess you could say.”
“You knew all along? Did you know who…?”
“Sometimes I knew who they were, sometimes I didn’t. There were a lot of guys. Sometimes we were more broken up than together, anyway, but other times… It was like whenever we were getting too close, she would run away. It scared her. Commitment, I mean. Terrified her. It was the only thing Suze was afraid of. And it was the only thing I truly wanted.”
I thought about the way Owen had said God, yes last night, when I’d asked him if we were exclusive—so urgent and heartfelt.
“I knew that she was still seeing Jonas sometimes,” he said. “She’d left him for me, and he was totally broken up about it. Still is, probably.”
After seeing Jonas Whittaker at Suze’s grave, I had to agree. You didn’t go to your ex-girlfriend’s grave in the middle of the night if you were over her. Just like you didn’t keep her self-portrait locked in your spare bedroom.
“And there was that guy, O’Brien, the firefighter.”
“Ron O’Brien? Muscles?”
“I forgot that was his nickname. Yeah, Muscles.”
The girl certainly had a type, I thought, looking up at Owen’s broad back.
“And I always thought there was one or two others,” he said. “But I never found out who they were. No one ever did. We’ll never know, now.”
His sentence lingered in the air.
“So that’s it,” he said. “I told her I was sick of her and I didn’t want to see her. I told her not to come over. And that night, she drowned.”
“Owen—” I began, unable to keep the horror I felt from my voice. “It wasn’t your fault—”
“No.” He stopped in front of me on the deer path, turning halfway towards me and folding his arms across his chest. “It was. It was my fault. If I hadn’t stopped her from coming over that night, she might still be alive.”
I stared up at his defiant expression. This morning, he’d described himself as a free man, but he wasn’t. He was still in a prison of his own making.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I said. “That’s why you put up with the way the people here treat you. It’s not just because you can’t leave Suze. It’s because you think you deserve it. The death threats, and everything else.”
“I—I don’t know.” His guarded expression was replaced by one of bewilderment. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”
I stepped closer to him, until we were almost touching. “I would feel like that, too. It’s not rational, but that wouldn’t change how I felt about it.” I rested my hand on his arm. “I always feel like I deserve the bad things that happen to me.”
“Obviously you don’t,” Owen said, sounding offended.
“Obviously you don’t.”
He exhaled in a shaky laugh. “Miranda…you are so…surprising.”
“Surprising? I thought I was easy to be around?” I teased.
He gazed down at me, his dark eyes intense. God—he took my breath away without even trying, without even knowing what he was doing. Sliding his hands around my waist, he drew me in even closer and brushed his lips against mine. “I want to show you something.”
“Ah,” I breathed, my eyes closing. “Okay…”
“Come with me.”
When he growled the words like that, his breath hot on my lips, I would have followed him anywhere.
He took my hand and led me off the deer path. We wound downhill through the pine trees and broke out onto a different path—a boardwalk. From somewhere nearby came the sound of rushing water, surprisingly loud in the quiet forest.
“This way.” Owen led me along the boardwalk and ducked underneath the branches of a budding oak tree off the path. This time, we emerged onto a flat stretch of granite overlooking a river. The water twisted and turned in a half dozen little waterfalls, but it was so clear I could see every string of bubbles spiraling downstream and every pebble lining the riverbed. Across the river were cheerful green bushes and a cluster of elegant birch trees.
“This is beautiful,” I said. “I love it.”
“Me, too.”
We sat down on the edge of the embankment. Owen was so tall the tips of his boots skimmed the river’s surface, but personally I did not have that problem.
“Thanks for telling me about you and Suze,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard.”
He put his arm around my waist. “Feeling sorry for me again, M.?”
“Don’t worry, it won’t last.” I smiled.
His blond hair had fallen forwards into his eyes, which looked bluer than ever in the early afternoon sunlight. I loved that little smile he had. I loved how safe and cherished I felt when I was with him.
I loved him.
Last night, I’d said it for me, because I’d needed to say it out loud somehow. But today I wanted to say it for him. He should know that I loved him. That he deserved to be loved, that he deserved my love. No matter what. No importa lo que ocurra.
Even if he couldn’t love me back.
“Owen,” I began. I licked my lips nervously.
His gaze fell to my mouth, and his eyes darkened. I wondered if he was thinking about the way I’d climbed onto his lap last night. I could hardly stop thinking about that myself.
His arm tightened around me, and he squeezed my hip hard. I leaned into him, my lips brushing his neck. “Owen…” I said again, but I was already losing my nerve. I didn’t want to burden him with feelings he couldn’t return.
He touched his fingertips to my cheek, careful to avoid the bruise on my jaw, and turned my face up towards his. Still watching my mouth, he stroked his thumb along my lower lip.
I kissed his thumb, his palm, his wrist. “Do a lot of people know about this place?”
“As far as I know, nobody does. Just us.”
“Good.”
Our eyes met, and he smiled, his lovely, sad eyes turning mischievous. Without another word, he kissed me gently, his tongue exploring my mouth. His patient fingers twined through the waves of my hair, stroked my neck, my cheekbones. I felt like one of his instruments, submitting to his hands, letting him turn me into something beautiful.
Slowly, his mouth moved down my throat to my collarbone, the arc of my shoulder. Last night seemed so long ago; I was desperate for him again. My good hand went to his jeans, slowly lowering the zipper, tugging the denim downwards. I found the opening to his adorably preppy boxers and closed my hand lightly around him. He made a soft sound of surprise.
I shifted position on the granite and bent down over his lap, taking him into my mouth while he still sat upright, his hand resting in my hair. He groaned deep in his throat. I glanced up at him, gauging his reaction. Our eyes met, and his brow was furrowed—he was checking on me, making sure I was okay. Always. Even now.
Smiling, I slid him deeper into my mouth, rubbing him with my tongue, and was rewarded with that dark flush across his cheeks I loved so much. He edged backwards from the embankment, bringing his legs back onto the smooth granite surface to make it easier for me to reach him. I straddled his legs and bent back down to keep stroking him, wishing I could have used both hands.
“Sweetheart,” Owen rasped, sinking back onto his elbows, “say something to me in Spanish.”
“Something dirty?” I suggested.
“As dirty as you can think of.”
“Corazón,” I murmured, running my hand along his length, “estoy desesperadamente enamorada de ti.”
“God, you’re sexy,” he muttered. His hand found my hair again, and he made a loose fist, letting the long strands spill between his fingers. His breathing grew strained as I quickened my strokes. I couldn’t get enough of him. I moved my good hand to his hip and took him back into my mouth, as deep as I could, savoring his taste and his light, sweet scent.
“I can’t—” he breathed. “Oh—” His hips jerked, but I just held him tighter, looking up at his face and watching his eyes squeeze shut. His beautiful body shivered,
his hips twitching again, and with a moan, he filled my mouth. I wanted all of it, took it all, and licked him clean afterwards.
“Ah, God,” he groaned, sliding all the way down onto the rock. His neck was flushed above the collar of his T-shirt. “Sweetheart, that was amazing. Come here.”
Obediently, I climbed onto him and let my weight sink down onto his chest, enclosing his face in my hands. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me soundly. I’d expected him to lose interest after he came, at least a little, but obviously he hadn’t. Not if he was kissing me like this. Soon enough, he rolled me onto my back and tugged my jeans off, taking my flats off with them. He drew a fingertip from the lacy band of my turquoise-blue underwear to my belly button, making me shiver with desire, and edged my shirt upwards. Bending down, he kissed the space between my breasts.
“I love the absurd things you wear,” he murmured, trailing kisses along the contours of my bra.
“I have things that are a lot crazier than this,” I told him archly.
“Mmm. I look forwards to those.” He kissed his way back down my stomach, and when he reached my panties, he slowly slid them off, kissing each inch of skin that he revealed.
“Are you hard again?” I asked him curiously.
“Every time I look at you, I get hard,” he said, kissing my inner thigh. “And that—you, going down on me—was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He met my eyes, his expression still mischievous, but with intensity underneath. He stroked me with his tongue, kissed me, stroked me again. He was teasing me, varying the pressure and location so I’d start to climb and then tip down again. I gasped, squirming under him. I wanted to beg him, but words escaped me. I could hardly think—I blinked up at the clear blue sky once, and then my eyes fell closed, my pulse pounding, my skin stinging with sweat at my temples. His clever mouth was driving me to distraction.
“You’re such a tease,” I managed finally, still gasping for breath. He rewarded me with a low, soft chuckle. Without another word, he got up on his knees, wrapped one strong arm around my legs, and lifted my hips off the ground.
Set Me Free Page 17
