“Well, be kind,” Maria says after a minute. “I can see it in her eyes, Owen. That is someone who has spent her whole life in fight-or-flight mode. She’s been running from her past herwhole life, and she’s now staring at it head on. She may act like she doesn’t care, but that right there is just the same person she always was. Someone wanting to be accepted and loved. Nothing has changed for her. Can you imagine going through your whole life thinking that you had run and left her?”
She clicks her tongue. “Poor girl.”
I can practically see her shaking her head. The sympathy and sorrow, it’s emanating out of the living room into the hallway where I hide.
It’s suffocating.
I don’t need their fucking pity.
Yeah, the whole situation stinks, but I’m not the same little girl.
And if Owen believes that, then he’s just as stupid as she is.
Lucy Cook is dead.
Yeah, right.
45
Lucy - Present
“Youawake?”Owenasksas he closes the bedroom door. The light from the hallway illuminates the room before the darkness takes over. My back is facing the doorway, and I don’t move to watch him get himself ready for bed. It will open thatconversationhe wants to have.
“I can hear your cogs turning from here,” he says as he shuffles about. “Want to talk about it?”
“What is there to talk about?” I finally answer, rolling onto my back.
“I dunno. I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to unpack it.”
“Did you and Luca have heart to hearts all the time? Is that what’s made you want to share our deepest, darkest secrets all the time?”
“Today’s been heavy.”
The cover lifts and he climbs in. I glance across to see his muscular legs and chest as he gets under the cover.
“What if I’m tired of talking?” I ask, rolling towards him, onto him. I lean over the top of him, taking in every single inch of his face.
The frown mark, the green eyes, the pupils dilating. His breath coming quicker. The tension building.
“What if I’m so tired of feeling all the things I’m feeling, and just want it all to stop? What if I really don’t want to have a conversation about everything that is flying through my head? What if I want all those thoughts to stop, even if it’s for a minute? And what if I want you to be the one to do that?”
I drop my head and take his mouth in mine in a quick, chaste kiss, pulling his lower lip into mine and biting softly.
“And what if I don’t care that Maria is next door? Because I want you to kiss me. I want you to make it all go away, like only you know how to. Is that enough talking for you?”
He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t have to.
I can see everything written across his face. His jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold himself back. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing with the effort to stay in control, but his hands are already in motion.
He wants to do right by me. He knows the weight of the day, the pain of the past washing over us both.
But it’s still there between us. The longing. The conflict. The pull.
He runs them through my hair, slow and gentle. Then tucks a loose tendril behind my ear, fingers grazing my cheek before tracing softly over my lips.
There’s a moment when his eyes meet mine. It’s barely a breath before it breaks.
Before he breaks.
