Well, not with me, with me, but he was home every night. We ate dinner together, we watched movies together, we watched bad reality TV together, and on more than one occasion I’d accidentally woken him up with one of my nightmares. Those nights he crawled into bed with me and held me. What we didn’t do was talk—not about anything important. I didn’t know Owen and Owen didn’t know me.
So thinking on it now, me leaving meant Owen could get back to his life in all ways. He was gorgeous with a capital G and two lines underlining the word and an exclamation mark to drive the point home. And that being, Owen could get any woman he wanted. Yet he was stuck home with me. That wasn’t right. He should be out doing what hot men do and not sitting on his couch with a basket case who was marked for an early death.
“I think we should go out into the living room,” I told him, still looking at the carpet.
“Not until you tell me what you’re thinking about.”
That was never going to happen.
“I was planning my escape and wondering if I could outrun you,” I lied.
“And that turned your cheeks pink?”
Dammit.
I couldn’t think of another lie, mainly because I sucked at it, but also because Owen was close. So close I could smell his soap. Pine Tar. God, I was going to miss that outdoorsy, fresh scent. I was going to miss Owen coming home from work telling me about his day. I was going to miss the normalcy. And I was seriously going to miss him coming home to me, laughing his ass off, handing me a bar of soap then including me in his team’s inside joke by showing me a Dr. Squash commercial.
Something ordinary, Owen made extraordinary. He would never know I’d never been included in anything. He’d never know how special that made me feel. He’d never know that laughing with him watching a soap commercial was one of the best nights of my life.
I was totally pathetic.
It was time for me to stop being selfish and let him go so he could get on with his life.
“And just so we’re clear, you can’t outrun me. You can try, but I’ll always find you.”
He had to stop; I could feel my heart cracking. Tiny fractures that would allow the unthinkable to happen. Fissures that would leave me vulnerable to the hope that wanted to grow.
“Owen,” Myles called from the other room. “Z wants to talk to you and Sarah.”
My eyes drifted closed when I heard my name. I really wished I hadn’t reminded them I was pretending to be Natasha.
“Come on.”
Without waiting, Owen grabbed my hand and led me out the door, down the hall, and into his living room. At some point, I’d opened my eyes but I refused to take in the room. I didn’t want to look at his comfy couch, or the recliner that sat off to the side, or the big coffee table. I had it memorized, every inch of his house. The first place I’d ever lived that felt like a home and not a penitentiary. I would miss all of this, too. There wasn’t a single space in my uncle’s brownstone that felt homey. It was cold and stark. A grand display of wealth and power. Same as my father’s house when he was alive.
“I’m thinking west.”
Hearing Zane Lewis’s angry voice fill the room, my eyes went to Myles who was holding his cell phone out in front of him.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Myles said. “Abe’s got that cabin—”
“Hell no!” Zane boomed. “Last time we used Abe’s cabin as a safe house it cost me a goddamn fortune to rebuild the thing. Those southern California contractors bend you over and do not provide Anal-Ese, they just slam it home and wait for the tears to start. And for the record, I’m not sure how honest Abe is. You shoulda seen the contents list he provided. No way. I’m not building him another cabin. You’re taking her to Idaho.”
Her? Was Zane talking about me?
“Idaho?” I croaked. “I can’t go to Idaho. I have to go to Chicago.”
“Christ, here we go,” Zane mumbled. “You’re not going to Chicago.”
“Why not?”
“And so it begins…again.” I didn’t understand Zane’s sarcastic remark and he didn’t give me time before he launched in. “Here’s how this goes. You and Owen dance around each other, for how long is anyone’s guess that part of this game varies. What doesn’t is there’s gonna be a whole lot of bitching and moaning. Lots of moaning actually—Kevin, Myles, and Gabe, I highly recommend Bose noise-canceling headphones, it will be the best three hundred bucks you’ve ever spent. Especially when it comes to the bitching you’ll have to endure that’ll likely take place over breakfast after the sex has worn off and Sarah starts in about how she should turn herself over to save everyone.”
Throughout Zane’s speech, I found myself getting annoyed. The mention of sex embarrassed me, but thankfully he finished with the topic at hand, giving me the perfect opportunity to voice my objections.
“This isn’t a game, Mr. Lewis. My uncle has requested me to come home, if I don’t he’ll carry out his threats. That’s not me bitching, that’s me being honest. He’ll do every last thing in that letter.”
“I see we haven’t gotten to the sex part.”
Zane’s nonchalance made me snap. Years of bottled-up fear rushed to the surface and exploded out of me in a rush.
“This isn’t fucking funny. My uncle is the devil. He has no morals or compassion. He will not blink at hurting Ivy. My guess is that’s where he’ll start. His philosophy has always been to start at the top. Cut off the head of the snake and the rest will fall. He doesn’t believe in showing his enemy mercy, he will take everything. Dismantle your business, ruin you professionally, but his kill shot will be your family. He’ll leave you breathing so he can watch you crumble to your knees after he’s taken your wife and kids. That’s what he does. He likes knowing he has the power to bring down powerful men. All of this will end as soon as I’m on the plane. Everyone can get back to their lives and forget I existed.”
The room was silent, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel the pissed-off vibes rolling off Owen. I hated he was mad at me but this was for the best. Everyone needed to be free of me.
“If that’s the case, then why have you been camped out on Owen’s couch?” Zane inquired, his voice deceptively even.
I’d only been around the big man a handful of times—he was gruff, mildly obnoxious, completely sarcastic to the point one would have to ask if he knew how to have a normal conversation—but there was no missing the fact he loved his wife. As in, loved her. Fight and die kind of adoration. Me mentioning my uncle’s perverse inclination of killing women as a way to control men should’ve sent Zane Lewis through the roof.
What I wasn’t going to do was tell him the truth about why I’d stayed. Even though that might have made him instruct his men to put me out on my ass and let me hitchhike to the airport. It would’ve been safer for all involved, but I could barely admit my reasons to myself. Saying them out loud for Owen to hear would never happen.
“Because I thought my uncle was done with me,” I lied, knowing Wilco Pollaski was never done with his toys—even after he broke them he still liked keeping them around. “He wanted me out of his house and he finally found a way to do that. Lucky for him Amie was willing to pay. Apparently, he’s changed his mind.”