His face breaks into a smile. “Oh, Cookie. These next few weeks, it’s going to be like the old days.”
“We have very different memories of our childhood.”
“Hiding, fighting for our lives, pretending everything is fine, spending time together. It sounds just like it. I’m going to need a phone, and clothes.”
“For someone who is terrified, you’re acting very gung-ho.”
“I can’t control everything, but you bet your arse I’m going to take control of the things that I can. And right now, I want to make a statement. And I need to call Juliette’s husband.” He clears his throat.
I nod.
“Okay. We stay here tonight; you can make calls tomorrow—”
“No, not Jules. I’ll make that call tonight. I need to.”
I understand the reasoning. He’s hurting, he wants to speak to her husband. So I don’t argue. I can see the turmoil in his face, the hurt in his voice.
“That’s the only call, though. Tomorrow we will get the hard-drive. For now, though, we need to sleep. Couch or bed?”
“Seriously? We grew up together with nothing between us. I’ve just stitched you up, and let’s not forget the shower.”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks, which I’m pretty sure are now a shade of beetroot. I sigh dramatically.
“Fine.”
It isn’t fine.
There’s just so much, so much ofsomethingbetween us that I don’t think I can even find the right words. So instead, I grab the phone off the table and pass it to Owen.
“Make your call. It’s completely untraceable and we will destroy it after. I’ll be in the bedroom.” I leave him standing in the living room, staring at the phone.
“Lucy,” he calls after me, and I stop on the threshold. “Thank you. For saving me tonight.”
“Hey, it’s what you hired me to do, right?” I smile tightly and close the bedroom door, falling against the wood and resting my head against it.
Jesus.
How am I going to get through this? Every time I’m with him, I’m thrown back to being a kid. And I feel so much being around him. I take a breath and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I climb into the bed, looking at the ceiling. I can hear Owen talking in the living room, but I zone him out.
My head’s busy revisiting old memories, flashes of times that I’d thought were buried.
Is this what it’s going to be like? In the quietness and stillness, I’m going to relive every fucked-up memory of our childhood? A childhood that I thought I’d forgotten?
That’s all in the past now.
Except my past is very much sitting behind that closed door, and I feel like a scared little girl all over again.
“Are you awake?” he whispers.
I peel my eye open and see the light from the living room shining in before disappearing as he joins me in the bedroom, closing the door.
“I am now.”
“I’ve scheduled a press conference tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”
“Of course you have.” I deadpan. “I thought I said one call, and when I said yes to a statement, I didn’t meanpress conference.”
I sit up onto my elbows, the covers falling off my shoulders to under my boobs. Owen’s eyes glance at the white tank top, the thin material the only thing covering me, not leaving much to the imagination.
