Right.
I unlock the cell and release him from the cuffs. He rips off the tape, and I get a shot of satisfaction as he howls in pain.
But then he takes Marlowe by the arm. "Marlowe, thank goodness you're all right. Your father is going out of his mind with worry. Let's get you out of this two-bit town. As for you, Sheriff Smith, you'll be hearing from me and my army of lawyers soon."
I don't say anything. Coldness runs through my veins as I watch her leave, her scent still on my fingers.
Fuck.
Chapter Seventeen
Marlowe
I had to go back home. It was the right thing to do. I shouldn't have left the way I did. That was the coward's way of handling things, and I've come to realize that I'm not a coward.
I wasn't raised this way. I'm Marlowe Evans. My family runs the most affluent law firm in the world. Additionally, my grandfather on my mother's side is an oil baron, so I also come from old money. I have an obligation to my family. It's the least I can do to honor them.
Of course, going back wasn't all hugs and champagne. My dad scolded me and listed all the responsibilities I had to the family now that I'd gotten over my "episode." Well, "episode" is one word to call it.
My mom was more sympathetic, hugging me and brushing my hair back in between telling me it was going to be okay and that I severely needed to see her hairstylist.
I love my parents so much. My dad is robust, and my entire childhood as an only child was transactional. I was prepared, educated, and steered toward sitting at the partners' table of his real pride and joy.
Then I failed my bar exam, and my dad made no provisions for how I was feeling. Just that I would write it again and again until I passed because I'm an Evans, and we Evans don't fail.
And the final instruction: I'd be marrying Tony Merritt, as was always my destiny since he joined my dad's law firm. The Merritts are on par with our rank. The match is one made in heaven. He's not wrong.
What was I thinking? That I could sneak out and everything would be okay? Silly Marlowe.
Anyway.
I turn up the volume of my favorite song, open the window of my rental, and belt out the words.
The air is crisp, and I breathe in a lungful until a wave of exhilaration flows through me.
I don't think I've truly felt this happy in all my life. It's as if everything happened so I could be in this rental on this road.
I glance at my watch. I'm going to make it, but just about if I hurry.
I can't find any parking in front of the quaint little building, so I park the car way down the street and have to run to make it.
Adrenaline has me out of breath, but John, the bailiff, is already there. He gives me a smile and an approving nod before handing me my exam.
I made it.
Candy Creek Citizen Test.
I click my pen and get to earning my place.
I haven't even answered the first question yet when the door swings open, and who other than Sheriff Smith walks in.
My gosh, I missed him.
He comes to a dead halt when he sees me. Shock embellishes his perfect male features, then relief washes over him.
I offer him a smile that seems to shine from my soul and wave my fingers at him before I put my head down and make my own history. The bailiff then steers Zephyr out of the room and closes the door behind him.
It takes me a freaking hour to write the test. Some of the answers are history and fact-based, but most are about the people who are landmarks themselves, the Candy Creek sunrise, and the little quirks I've come to know and love about this town.
