Michael’s phone beeped. Internally, I heaved a sigh of relief to be free from his scrutiny. He scrolled through his text messages and frowned. “I hate to break up your reunion, but I’ve got to get on the road.” In a split second, he snapped into business mode. “Walk me to the car, Stella.”
Owen stepped aside, allowing us to pass. I caught a glimpse of his strong, square jaw and the stubble covering it. In high school, he’d had to shave twice a day to keep the whiskers at bay. The random thought brought a blush to my cheeks. Michael gave him a dismissive nod. I steeled my nerves as I passed Owen’s broad chest, catching a whiff of his clean soap-and-water scent, thinking my knees might give out. Every cell in my body screamed with the need to touch him, to know that he was real. Gathering my resolve, I kept moving. One of my feet had crossed the threshold when he spoke again.
“Stell?”
“Yes?” I couldn’t turn around. Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut. If he asked me to come back, screamed at me for being a ruthless, selfish bitch, demanded that I lick his boots and grovel—I’d do it. All of it.
“You look good.”
“Thanks. You too.” Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. His compliment only made me feel worse. I wanted to run, to get in my car and drive until Owen and this place were nothing but hazy memories. No matter how far I traveled, however, I couldn’t outrun my past. I’d already tried and failed.
When we reached his car, Michael put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine.” Or I would be once I got my shit together and hashed things out with Owen.
“You’re such a mystery.” He cocked his head to the side. “You never talk about your past. I don’t know anything about you. Not really. When are you going to open up to me, Stella Valentine?”
My mind spun in circles. Owen. This house. Murder. The images pummeled me until I wanted to scream. I wrapped my arms around my waist and pulled away from his searching gaze. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I’ve led a very boring life.” Another lie added to the pile of secrets at my feet.
“All right. Whatever you say.” He chucked me under the chin before climbing into the car. “One of these days, I’m going to break through your defenses, and you’re going to tell me everything.”
“Someday.” I drew a circle in the dusty street with my toe then erased it. When hell freezes over.
Once Michael’s car disappeared down the street, I sprinted upstairs, carefully avoiding the utility room and Owen. With my phone in hand, I locked myself into the adjoining bathroom and scrolled to Lanie’s number in my contact list. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, sis. What’s up?” Her cheerful voice irritated me. If only I could go through life oblivious to my problems, the way she did. Apparently, she’d inherited the positive genes in our family, while I’d been the unlucky recipient of a jaded outlook.
“He’s here,” I said.
“Who?” She didn’t bother to cover the phone while she yelled at her kids. “No running in the house. Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Owen.”
“Owen, who?” When I didn’t answer right away, her tone sharpened, instantly alert. “Oh. You mean that Owen?”
“Who else would I mean? Come on, Lanie. I’m dying here.”
“Why are you whispering? Is he in the room with you?” The pitch of her voice climbed higher. “Hang on. This needs my full attention.” Cabinet doors banged shut. I pressed a hand to my chest and waited while her footsteps echoed into the phone. “Okay. Tell me again. I thought you said Owen’s there.”
“Yes. I’m in the bathroom. He’s downstairs, working on the water heater.”
“Are you crazy? Why would you invite him into your house? He’s a murderer, Stella.”
The questions rattled around in my head. Why indeed? In my heart, I knew the answer. “Is he? I still can’t believe he did it.”
Although I couldn’t see her, I felt her eyes roll at my statement. “Of course, he did. He confessed.”
There it was. The truth laid out in front of me, a truth I’d never been able to accept. The Owen of my youth would never hurt anyone. He’d been kind and sweet and gentle. The only time he’d lost his temper in my presence had been with Chris, the day before his death. I gripped my forehead with my free hand and tried to make sense of it. Thinking made my head hurt worse. There was no rationalizing the death of an eighteen-year-old boy at the hands of his brother.
“I know he’s innocent,” I whispered.
“Really? How do you know that? Were you there, Stella?” Lanie’s harsh words broke my confusion.
“I just know. In my heart. I know.” The late summer heat intensified between the walls of the bathroom. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I opened the door and gulped down fresh air.
“How did he get on your construction crew anyway? Didn’t you check out the contractor before hiring him?”
“Of course, I did.” My frustration climbed at both the situation and her lack of empathy. The walls of the bathroom closed in around me. I headed for the window, hoping for a cool breeze. “Excuse me for not adding that to my list of requirements for a reputable contractor.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Not really. I might have freaked a little. Michael was here, and I didn’t want him asking questions.” Usually, I was the calm one, the one who soothed her anxieties and told her everything would be okay. Lanie had always been the sister who loved drama and chaos while I preferred stability and quiet.
“Okay. Give me a second. I’m trying to think.” The chattering, childish voices of my niece and nephews warmed the background. I could picture Lanie twisting her hair, brow furrowing in concentration. “Here’s what you do. Pull him aside. Tell him to keep his mouth shut and stay in his lane. No, wait. Don’t do that. Just avoid him.”
By unspoken agreement, Lanie and I never talked about Owen or Chris. The one time I’d tried to talk to her about what she knew, she’d gone into fits of hysteria. To keep the peace, I’d kept my worries and questions to myself. We’d picked up the tattered shreds of our existence following Chris’s murder and had gone on, one day at a time, never looking back. The unfortunate events in our lives had allowed little time for retrospection. If we paused to reflect on all the ways fate had failed us, we’d never get through another day.
“I can’t avoid him. Did you hear what I said? He’s in my house.”
“I told you moving there was a mistake. It’s going to dredge everything up again.”
Her words sent an ominous shiver up my back. “What did you want me to do? Refuse the inheritance? Besides, it was a long time ago. No one remembers us.” I scanned the walls, the built-in bookcases, and the bay window with its window seat where I’d read so many of Marianne’s books. Those stolen moments had been the only peaceful time in my life. I’d worn thin the memories of those precious days.
“You need to sell that disaster.” Lanie’s lack of sentimentality grated over my nerves. “Sell it now and get the heck out of there.”
“No one is going to buy it in this condition. Houses here are taking an average of fourteen months to sell. In another year, it’s going to look even worse.” As a kid, I’d dreamed of restoring it to its former glory. If I let the house fall to ruin, I’d be disappointing Stan and my teenage self. “It makes financial sense to live here until it sells. Besides, I can’t keep sleeping on your couch. I’m thirty-four. I want a place of my own.”
“I’m all about getting you out of my apartment,” she said, her tone teasing and affectionate. “Take some of that money you’ve been stockpiling and buy something here—something that isn’t going to bleed you dry.”
“Um, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else—someone with a fat bank account.” Silence rewarded my comment. I’d been supporting her and the kids for the past year, since her latest boyfriend had split. She’d unwittingly followed in our mother’s footsteps with he
r bad decisions and poor choices in men, but then, Lanie had always been a sucker for a winning smile and a tight ass.
“I suppose this is a bad time to ask you for a loan,” she said, her tone acerbic, like I’d done something wrong. “I’m a little short on rent this month.”
“I just gave you a thousand dollars. What happened to it?” Tension tightened the muscles across my forehead.
“Mick didn’t pay child support last month. He’s disappeared again.”
“We can’t keep doing this. You’re an adult, Lanie. You need to step up.” Although I sympathized with her plight, she’d gotten herself into this mess and had done nothing to better her situation. While I’d been busy working two jobs and going to college, Lanie had dropped out of high school to have her first child. Her lack of education severely limited the pool of jobs available to her. Even if she had a job, she couldn’t afford daycare on minimum wage. “Your lease is up in a few months. I think you should come live here.”
“No way. I’m never going back there.” Her voice trembled, as if a shiver had run down her spine.
“You’ve got four people in a one-bedroom apartment. This place has five bedrooms and three bathrooms. The kids can run and play outside. And the cost of living is half of what it is in Cleveland.”
“Whatever.” Her clipped reply signaled that our conversation was either going to end in an argument or a lot of hurt feelings. One of the children wailed for her. Lanie shifted into mom mode. “I’ve got to go. Colton, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t put that in your mouth. Look, Stella, I’ll talk to you later, okay? Don’t forget the money.”
“Bye.” I ended the call and stuffed the phone into my pocket. The amount of dysfunction in our relationship could fill an ocean liner. No matter how many years passed, I continued to feel responsible for her well-being, sometimes to the detriment of my own. As much as I loved her, I wanted to wring her neck for her reckless behavior, especially now that she had children.
Owen’s deep voice floated up through the floor register as he discussed something with Dad. Had he heard my conversation? A flush of mortification burned up my neck. I held my breath, listening to his quiet words, feeling the tiny hairs on my body stand at attention. He’d had that effect on me from the very start. His moody, brooding stare had reeled me in when he’d tripped over my feet in front of the principal’s office, and I’d never been able to forget him since then. The way he used to tuck my hair behind my ear. His lazy smiles when I said something funny. The gentleness of his fingertips sliding beneath my shirt and up my belly. Our relationship may have ended in tragedy, but our lives would always be entwined by the love we’d once shared.
Four
Owen
Eighteen Years Ago
The third time I ran into Estelle, she was walking alone through an alley between Maple and Elm Streets. It was midnight, past curfew, much too late for a young girl to be out alone on a Thursday. The April days were reasonably warm, but the temperatures plummeted to freezing at sundown. She hunched her shoulders against the cold breeze, her head bent, gaze trained on the ground. I’d never seen her in anything other than her leather jacket and wondered if she had nothing else to wear.
“Hey,” I called out to her.
She glanced up, startled, and frowned. “Hi.” She lowered her head and resumed walking.
“It’s a little late for a stroll, don’t you think?” I jogged to her side.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I needed some fresh air.” My old man was on another bender. When he’d thrown a kitchen chair out the living room window, I’d bolted before he could turn his temper on me.
“Seriously. It’s not a good idea for you to walk by yourself. A girl went missing last year.” I hadn’t known her well, but I’d seen her around a few times. Her disappearance had rocked our quiet community, a place where no one locked their doors. The flyers with her face had fallen down long ago, but the unsolved case still stained Corbett’s reputation.
“I can take care of myself.” From the waistband of her jeans, she withdrew a knife and opened it with an expert flick of her fingers. The blade glinted in the weak moonlight. “I’ve got this.”
“Whoa. Where did you get that?” I lifted my hands in mock surrender.
She closed the knife and shoved it back into its hiding place. “If you’d been the kinds of places I’ve been, you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“Fair enough.” An eerie quiet blanketed the town. For a short girl, she walked quickly. Our footsteps thudded softly on the sidewalk. “So, where’s the fire?”
Estelle sighed. “Lanie took off again. I’ve been looking everywhere for her. You wouldn’t have any idea where she could be, would you?” She tilted her head to meet my gaze. I sucked in a breath at the clarity of her eyes and shook my head. Her posture wilted. “What about that guy Chris? Do you know where he lives?”
“Yeah. With me. He’s my brother.”
“Oh. Sorry. I mean, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. He’s a dick.” I shrugged. “He said something about a party. I can take you there if you want. It’s at the end of this street.” Although Chris didn’t have any friends, his easy access to marijuana made him popular with the party crowd.
Relief softened her features. “Yes, please.” When she wasn’t frowning, she was really very pretty. I tried not to stare at her lips or think about the way she’d kissed me the last time we’d met.
“Does Lanie sneak out a lot?” I shoved my hands into my pockets, enjoying the occasional brush of her shoulder against mine.
“She’s getting worse about it. I don’t know what to do.” The concern in her voice touched me. I understood the need to protect your sibling. Even though Chis was an ass, I hated to see him in trouble and had taken his side on more than a few occasions out of misguided loyalty. In my opinion, blood was thicker than water, even when the other person didn’t deserve my allegiance.
The closer we got to the party, the more unsettled I became. Chris had been especially agitated today and wouldn’t like having his night interrupted by Estelle or me. When we turned the corner, heavy metal music shattered the night silence. Kids spilled out of the open front door of a dilapidated mobile home. Red plastic cups littered the yard. I took Estelle’s hand. The rhythm of her steps faltered then steadied as I led her up the broken steps into the house. The heavy, sweet scent of marijuana hung in the air. Chris sat on the shabby couch, an arm around Lanie. Estelle tensed and tried to pull her hand from mine. Her tension traveled through our joined hands and up my arm.
“Let me handle this,” I said. Chris resembled my dad in every way, including his volatile temper, and I was used to dealing with his moods. Estelle nodded, but I could tell she didn’t like the idea.
“Hey, bro.” Chris smiled and waved, his gaze challenging mine.
“Hey.” I jerked my chin in acknowledgment.
“Uh-oh, the big sister is here. Looks like we’re in trouble again, Lanie.” His attention flitted to Estelle. He pulled Lanie in closer before patting the couch cushion on his free side. “Come on over, sis. Have a seat.”
“No thanks. I’m here to get my sister,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Lanie wore too much makeup and a revealing blouse, making her look much older than her years. She snuggled into Chris’s side.
“It’s past curfew,” I said to my brother. “And you can hear the music from a block away. Someone’s going to call the cops. You don’t want to get busted with all these underage kids here.”
“Fuck.” Chris blew out an exasperated sigh then scrubbed a hand over his face. I could tell by the red tint of his eyes that he’d been partying for quite some time. If past history was any indication, he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. He gave Lanie a nudge before picking up his beer. “Go home, little girl. Before you get us all in trouble.”
“But I was just starting to have a good time.” With her l
ower lip extended, she looked her age and out of place among the older kids.
“Now. Out.” Estelle grabbed her sister by the ear and dragged her into the yard. Lanie yelped. “I swear to God, Lanie. If I catch you with that guy one more time, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Stop it.” Lanie tried to twist from her sister’s grasp. I walked a few paces behind them, hands in my pockets, and tried not to laugh. I’d had more than a few scuffles with Chris during our lifetime and understood. After a few minutes, Lanie gave up the fight. “Fine. I’m going. Just let go of me, will you?” She stormed in front of us, arms swinging at her sides.
Chris followed us out the door. Animosity thickened the air in his wake. I braced for his temper.
“Where are you going?” The grip of his fingers on my elbow stirred my sense of self-preservation.
“Not your business.” I shook off his hand.
“You’re such a goody two-shoes. Always sticking your nose in my business.” He took a step closer, violating my personal space.
“Go back inside, Chris.”
“Make me.” He shoved my shoulder, hard enough to send me back a pace. I braced my feet and drew in a breath, rising to my full height. He knocked my shoulder two more times.
“If you touch me one more time, I’m going to—”
“You’ll what?” His taunting grin sickened me. How could we be from the same parents, yet be so different in temperament and character?
“Come on.” I turned my back on him and nodded to Estelle. “Let’s get out of here.”
We left Chris standing in the front yard. I’d pay for my interference later, but it was a price I was willing to pay. I’d had enough of Chris and his narcissistic behavior. In a few months, I’d be leaving him and our home for good. Until then, I intended to stand my ground.
Lies We Tell Page 3