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“Haven’t been out much.”
An understatement. His unwashed hair was exhibit B.
“When was the last time you—”
“Yarrow, go back to your room. Before I do something we’ll both regret.”
***
What had he been thinking, allowing Addison Yarrow into his home? Because living with her, wanting her, and keeping his hands to himself might be worse torture than the last three painful years.
She’d burst into his life like morning sunshine after interminable night. Hope. She’d felt like hope when he’d first seen her. How wrong he’d been.
Slamming his bedroom door shut, he paced to his nightstand and unplugged his phone from its charger. Four missed calls—two from his parents, one from his brother Nate, and another from his sister-in-law Evie. A text from his oldest brother Jackson to call him, and several messages from his sisters-in-law Francesca and Joy checking in on him via the family text thread.
His brother Hayes left a voicemail: “Better call me back.”
It would be so easy to ask Hayes—and his connections—for help in finding the bastard, but he couldn’t get his brother involved. Not if he intended to end Kyle’s life.
His family had been helicoptering over him since the accident, and as grateful as he was for them, after three years he was starting to feel like a toddler. Lately, they considered him as helpless as Jackson and Evie’s youngest.
He replied on the family thread:
All good. Call you when I’m back in LA.
The phone ring was instant.
Seeing Jackson’s name, he groaned, but answered. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you awake at this hour? What hurts?”
He tamped down the annoyance at being talked to like a little kid. His family had dropped everything to be there for him. He’d have never recovered without them. “Addison Yarrow is in Ireland.”
He didn’t know what made him say it, but now that the words were out, he couldn’t take them back.
The silence stretched as his brother absorbed the news. “You met her?”
He considered telling Jackson that she was there, in his house, but decided against it. He’d never understand why he’d let Yarrow’s sister stay. He’d assume Oliver had lost it. Worse, he’d tell his wife, Evie, who’d tell her sister, Joy, and their sister-in-law, Francesca—and then Evie, Joy, and Francesca would see no recourse but to butt in. Or worse, his brothers or parents would hop on the next flight to Ireland.
Choosing to go with evasion, he shifted the phone to his other ear. “Yep.”
“Well? Did you talk to her? Give me something.”
“Nothing to tell. I gotta go.”
His brother’s voice softened. “Another headache?”
“No. But it’s late. I’ll call you later.”
Hanging up, he checked the rest of his text messages. Yesterday, he’d sent his investigator the details about Netta and her jailed mother. One had to verify anything a Yarrow said. No updates yet.
In an attempt to get to the truth sooner, he’d searched Addison’s phone and laptop as soon as he’d gotten them to his room. Her passwords were simple to crack—Netta for both. Except for a few increasingly desperate emails and texts to Kyle, there was no communication between them. At least, nothing she hadn’t deleted. Unlocking her phone, he checked for anything new. Nothing.
He’d wait.
Chapter 11
Addy lay in bed, the tall case clock ticking away, unable to shake the feeling that someone was out there—outside, watching.
