“He killed my mom,” she whispers, her teeth scraping my skin as they chatter. I hug her closer, covering her with the flaps of my coat, trying to bring warmth back to her icy skin. “He came for me that Halloween, and she threw herself in the way.”
“Did he tell you that?”
She shakes her head, pulling back just enough to look up at me. My hands frame her face, thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “No, I remembered.” Sniffling, she lays her hand over my heart. “She saved me.”
“Of course she did,” I murmur, deliriously happy to have her in my arms. “She loved you, sweetheart.”
Another sob racks her body, and she breaks down as the police storm the area, Captain Stoll leading the charge. Gabe’s pinned to the ground by two different officers, and they ignore his cries, roughly handcuffing him and dragging him to his feet.
I keep Morgan’s face in my hands until long after they’ve gone, letting her presence ground me to the moment. When they haul Gabe off, Captain Stoll takes Morgan’s statement, and then moves on to the cottage where Paul’s disappeared, telling us we’re free to go for now.
We drive home in silence, fingers interlocked over the console of the car, and my heart shatters into a million more pieces when I pull into my driveway and see Daisy pacing on the porch. Monet whines at her from inside, and she freezes when she sees my headlights, placing her hands on her hips.
“Shit,” I mutter, putting the car in park.
Morgan glances at me, pressing her lips together. She doesn’t say anything, just leans over and presses a kiss to my fingers; I close my eyes, trying to imprint the feel of her lips on my skin, and then shuffle out of the car, carrying her inside.
She insists she can get ready for bed on her own, saying her ankle is just a little twisted but manageable, so I leave her in the bathroom and walk back outside to Daisy.
Sitting in the rocking chair, Daisy strokes Monet’s fur, a small smile on her lips as he lays his head in her lap.
“Where’s Charlie?” I ask, my throat constricting.
“With Ma.” She doesn’t look up at me, dragging a hand through her brown hair. Silence ebbs around us, the soft slapping of the waves against the dock the only sound for miles, making me uneasy.
“I got a phone call,” she says finally. “About…” Her voice catches, breaking on the end of the sentence, and she leans forward, holding her stomach as she hunches over. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
She already knows.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” she whispers. “But the signs were all there, weren’t they?”
Again, I say nothing, watching as she begins rocking herself. Wishing there was something, anything, I could do to lessen the pain.
But as a knot sticks in my throat, a hollow feeling settling in my soul, I know there’s no way to fix this. Not for her, not for me.
“It’s not always about resolution. Sometimes, it’s about extinguishing the pain.”
“He was broken,” I offer quietly, dropping to my knees beside the chair. Monet sniffs at me, pushing his snout against my shoulder.
“Yeah, well. Now, so are we.”
Daisy and I sit there like that for a while, sorrow digging into our skin like roots pushing into the earth. We don’t speak, our hands inches away, both of us trying to find some sort of comfort in our new reality.
It’s not until she leaves, and I head back inside to Morgan, wrapping myself around her half-asleep form in bed, that I find it.
Chapter 51
“You’re sure?”
My stomach slowly unravels from the knots it’s been in since I made the decision a week ago to resign.
I nod.
Sarge blows out a breath, running a hand over his graying black hair. “Well, good. I was gonna have to place you on administrative leave anyway.”
My mouth pops open. “For what? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Sarge narrows his eyes. “You were sleeping with one of the suspects.”
I cringe, sitting back in the chair and crossing my arms. “Technically, I didn’t sleep with him until after he was cleared.”
“Semantics.”
I shrug. “Not really.”
Sarge sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Word on the street is you have amnesia.”
“Ugh,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “It’s a nonissue.”
His brows shoot to the sky. “Nonissue? It’s front page news, Sloane. You’re the talk of every national news station from here to California.”
I point at him. “That is not my fault.”
The corners of his lips lift as he stares me down. “Are you trying to start a fight?”
My mouth curls up. “Habit.”
Over the past three weeks since Gabe was arrested, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my life. About my priorities. About where things stand and where I want to go.
And I don’t know much, but I do know that nothing in life is ever guaranteed, and if you don’t cherish every moment, you could miss out on something great. Being a homicide detective is what I’ve always wanted. I lived for my job because I was always searching for that something.
But what was lost has now been found.
So, I don’t feel that way anymore.
Maybe I’ll regret my decision, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this career, it’s that life can be snuffed out in the blink of an eye. And I’d rather spend the time I’ve got making memories with the people I love.
I stand up from the chair, leaning over the desk and stretching out my hand. “It’s been an honor to work with you, sir.”
Sarge places his palm in mine, squeezing. “You’re a hell of a detective, Sloane.”
Emotion lodges in my throat, and I nod before spinning around and walking to the door.
As soon as I open it, Alex straightens from the other side, a sheepish grin lighting up his face. “Carina.”
I scowl at him, shoving him playfully by the shoulders. “Eavesdropper.”
He chuckles, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we walk across the bullpen and to the entrance of the Portland precinct.
“So, you’re leaving for real, huh?” he asks, the grin dimming on his face as he pushes open the metal doors, allowing me to go through first.
I twist to face him as I slide my arms through my coat, an ache spreading through my chest. “I don’t really know why I’d stay.”
His hand flies to his chest. “Ouch.”
I roll my eyes to try and stem the tears, but they tease my lower lids anyway. “Oh, please,” I choke out. “I’ll be like an hour away.”
He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares at me, pursing his lips. “You gonna come back?”
I lift my shoulders. “I’m gonna take this opportunity to see what life has to offer. I went almost twenty years without ever knowing my real home, you know?” I pull a maroon knit cap from my pocket and shove it on my head, relishing in the way it immediately spreads warmth over my ears. “I need to figure out where I belong.”
Alex tsks as he stares at the ground. “Ah, carina. We both know where you belong.” He walks over to me, his fingers tipping my chin up until our gazes meet. “And as much as I wish it were here with me…”
His words trail off, and my chest throbs as it twists painfully.
A tear trails down my cheek and his thumb brushes it away, his lips forming a small, closed-mouth smile. “No tears for me. I’ll be alright.” He tilts his head. “Your life will probably suck without me in it every day, but…”
I giggle, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, closing my eyes as I feel his embrace wrap around me.
It’s bittersweet knowing that someone who’s been a permanent fixture in my life for so long is going to be relegated to day trips and phone calls. A part of me is terrified that we’ll lose touch, but deep down, I know the separation will be good for us.
Help a
ny unresolved feelings dissolve into dust.
“Caruso,” a voice shouts from the doorway. “Sarge is asking for you.”
Alex turns around, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”
He spins back, his fingers chucking under my chin one more time before backing up a space. “I love you, Morgan, whatever the hell your last name is. Promise not to forget me.”
My eyes well as a burn spreads behind them, and I force a smile through the sadness. “Not in a million years.”
“Not even if a rock smacks you in the back of the head?” His brow raises.
I huff out a laugh, my hands going to my hips. “God, you are so inappropriate.”
He starts jogging backward as he winks. “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
And then he disappears into the building.
For a long time, I stand in place, until my nose goes numb and my legs start to ache, staring up at the precinct doors; at the place I was positive I would be spending the biggest chunk of my life.
It’s bittersweet, but I can’t find it in me to be too sad.
After all, Skelm Island has always been my home.
I just forgot about it for a little while.
Two hours later, and I’m back on the island, a sense of peace washing over me as I drive through the main road in town, passing Petey’s bar, and the diner where Daisy waitresses.
The media have finally dispersed, leaving a quiet atmosphere behind, a lot less chaotic than when the news first broke of Gabe being the Fate Reaper.
I haven’t been back here in two weeks, after making sure Gabe was staying locked up until his trial, I headed back to Portland to tie up my loose ends. I briefly thought about visiting my parents while I was there, but… not yet. Maybe someday.
After a lot of therapy.
Excitement makes me jittery, my fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel. I didn’t tell Lincoln I was coming back at all, and he has no idea I’ve decided to stay.
Not being with him for the past two weeks has been difficult.
I never knew what it felt like to have a second half; to long for someone when they’re not around. Someone to share the small moments with, the random thoughts, and the exciting feats.
But with Linc, I want it all.
I just hope he was serious about wanting me to stay.
My phone dings from the center console and I glance at the screen when I roll up to a red light.
Letty: He just left my house, honey. Had to threaten bodily harm to get him to leave, stubborn ass.
I smile, imagining just how difficult it probably was. Ever since Gabe’s arrest, Lincoln’s been a permanent fixture at his childhood home, not wanting to leave his sister.
At least, that’s what he says. But I feel his anguish too. And while I don’t know what to say or how to make it better, I’m glad I can stand at his back, and help prop him up when the weight of grief makes him stumble.
The urge to drive straight to his house is strong, but there’s one other place I need to go first.
The lighthouse.
Nerves race through my veins, my stomach tossing as I pull down the familiar gravel, driving all the way up until I’m right next to the cottage door.
I haven’t come here before now, and maybe that’s crappy of me, but the thought of facing him… it’s hard.
Part of me is terrified he’ll expect me to be something I’m not. Someone I no longer am.
I turn the engine of my Honda off and slowly stand from my car, staring at the front door, fingering the keys. My insides twist with anxiety as I make my way up to the door and knock, the wood rough beneath my knuckles.
Silence.
I knock again, rocking back on my heels, trying to keep some warmth in my bones while I stand in the cold.
After a few more minutes, disappointment sinks like a lead weight in my chest and I turn around to leave.
Maybe another time.
I’m almost back to my car when I see a figure in the distance, making their way down the walkway, and then across the rocks and grass that separates the lighthouse tower from the cottage.
As they get closer, I realize it’s him.
Paul Jensen.
My father.
I stuff my hands in my back pockets, my heart banging an uneven rhythm against my chest as he notices me and shifts direction, moving with slow and steady footsteps until he’s standing a few feet away.
For a couple moments, we both just stare.
I open my mouth to speak but close it again when I realize that I have no idea what to say. The truth is that for as much as I may be biologically his, I don’t remember him.
And I’m not sure if I ever will.
His ears are tinged pink from the cold, and a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, his white hair skimming across his jaw in the breeze. “Well, damn. It’s about time you came out here.”
Warmth weaves its way through my chest. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”
“Ah.” He bobs his head, taking a few steps closer. “I’ve been waiting eighteen years to see you.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek until the skin breaks. “I don’t remember. I-I’m sorry I don’t. I wish I did,” I rush out, my face flushing.
He nods again, his eyes calculating as they lock on me. “Well,” he starts, his hand coming up to rub at his scruffy jaw. “Let’s not worry about that. I’d rather get to know who you are now.”
Relief flows through me, bubbling up my throat. “I think I’d like that.”
He twists around, glancing at the cottage before looking back at me. “You wanna come in?”
I follow his gaze, but the thought of walking inside my childhood home sends panic careening off my edges. “I do, but I…” My fingers twist in my key ring, making the metal jingle as they clank together.
“Too much?” He tilts his head.
“It’s just a little overwhelming.” I wince as I say it. “I’m sorry.”
He lifts his hand, waving me off. “Stop apologizing, Morgan. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Not a damn thing, you understand?”
I swallow, the motion scratching my throat, and I nod. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow?”
A smile creeps over his face, his white teeth gleaming, his eyes sparkling with a glossy sheen. “I’d really love that.”
The second I pull into Lincoln’s driveway, his front door flies open, his broad frame filling up the doorway. Heat flares deep in my abdomen as I take him in, his black and gray flannel rolled up to his elbows, displaying the tattoos that decorate his forearms, his hands gripping the top of the frame. His black hair is a little longer than normal, a piece of it falling in his eyes, his green eyes sparking as they take me in.
I’m vibrating with excitement. I never knew two weeks could feel like a century.
Slamming the car door behind me, I saunter up the sidewalk, my stomach jumbling with butterflies as I walk up the front steps and stop in front of him.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he says.
I spread my arms out, a beaming smile breaking across my face, mirroring the one on his. “Damnit. You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “Ma may have talked.”
I shake my head, laughing. “She’s a traitor.”
He reaches out, gripping my waist and pulling me flush against him. “Ma is a very loyal woman. She just knew the only way to get me here was to promise me my favorite thing.”
“Oh?” I ask, my palms rubbing his chest as he wraps me up in his embrace. “And what’s that?”
His cold fingers slip beneath the waistband of my pants, teasing the skin and he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. “You,” he whispers.
He starts to pull back but I press into him again, rising on my tiptoes and slipping my tongue in his mouth, desperate for his taste after going so long without. He groans, moving his hands down to my ass and squeezing.
Breakin
g away, I smirk at him. “You’re not sick of me yet?”
His eyes grow serious, one of his palms moving to brush down the side of my face. “Killer, I could stare at you every second for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
My heart stutters.
I love this man.
“Well, good,” I sigh. “Because I’ve decided to stay.”
He sucks in a breath, his body stiffening against me. “Don’t fuck with me.”
My hands slide up his chest until my arms wrap around his neck. “Now, why would I do that?”
He laughs, his arms tightening around my middle and lifting me off the ground, my feet dangling as he spins us around.
Throwing back my head, I let out a shriek, a lightness fluttering through my insides.
He sets me back down, my body sliding against his as I find purchase on the deck.
“I won’t lie, it’s been sad as fuck around here lately. But I think you’ve just made me the happiest man alive.” He bends down, pressing his mouth back on mine.
I hum. “I love you.”
He smiles against my lips. “About time you admitted it.”
My hand smacks his shoulder. “Say it back, dick.”
He laughs, reaching up to cup my cheek, his eyes locking onto mine. “Morgan. Killer. I fall more in love with you each time you look my way. And it will be the biggest honor of my life to continue loving you every single day.”
Tears well in my eyes, my palm rubbing against my chest. “Be still my heart, Lincoln Porter. You are a poet.”
“And you’re mine.” He smirks, dragging me into him and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Don’t you forget it.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later
Isa and I stare at the spot between my nephew’s eyebrows, watching as purple welts against his pale skin. Neither of us moves, afraid that if we spook him, he’ll blink and realize he’s supposed to be in pain.
So far, in the thirty seconds since he fell off the tire swing, he’s done nothing but stare back, his doe eyes wide and trusting.
Be Still My Heart: A Romantic Suspense Page 35