“Casper—hang tight.”
But the phone clicked in his ear. Owen closed his eyes. He didn’t want to turn. Didn’t want to face his family.
Silence fell behind him. He drew in a breath and turned.
Jace, in a T-shirt and sweatpants, had come to stand behind Eden. He’d settled his hands on her shoulders. Grace had her jacket on, was zipping up Yulia’s in the foyer, but shot Owen a pained look. Max leaned against the wall, alternately glancing at Grace, then back to Owen, his arms folded across his chest.
His mother had her hand over her mouth, his father’s set in a grim line.
“Casper’s back in jail,” Owen said, setting the phone on the counter. “He . . .”
“We know,” Jace said. “We heard. He was going to jump bail.”
“And Scotty turned him in.” This from Eden, her eyes sharp.
And there he was again . . . standing on the outside, feeling like he didn’t belong.
Not unlike Scotty, probably.
“Dad, I need to borrow your truck.” Owen stopped in the entryway for his boots. He shoved his bare feet into them, grabbed a work jacket and the keys from the hook.
“We’re right behind you, Son,” he heard as he headed out the door.
Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.
With every word she uttered, Scotty wanted to rewind, to erase the jottings the deputy scrawled on the page.
She pressed her hand against her roiling stomach, which threatened to empty into one of those tin wastebaskets beside the deputy’s desk.
Too many eyes and ears fell on her this morning as a handful of deputies coming on shift filled out paperwork and received updates. She wanted to duck below a desk, put her hands over her ears. Make it all go away.
“So then what did you hear?”
“Casper said that he couldn’t stay.” Her own betrayal could suffocate her. She couldn’t look at Casper—sitting across the open room of desks, waiting to be processed back into the system. Not handcuffed, thankfully, because that would only make it worse. She still couldn’t believe the calm with which he’d surrendered to Kyle, striding out to the cruiser, getting into the backseat. Sitting in silence as they drove him to the station.
Right then she realized what a mistake she’d made.
It only solidified when they brought Casper in and he sat down in the interrogation room, folded his hands on the table, and looked at her through the one-way glass as if he knew she stood there, watching, scrutinizing. “I wasn’t going to run,” he’d told Kyle. “I mean, I was, but I changed my mind.”
And like before, she wanted to knock on the glass, tell him to shut up. But maybe that was simply Casper, wearing his heart on his sleeve. So painfully honest, wanting to do what was right, to save the day.
Not unlike Owen. No, he didn’t exactly wear his heart on the outside of his body, but he certainly took it out of his chest on impulse.
The entire family, it seemed, operated on an emotional code—relationships before rules. Grace without guidelines.
Except perhaps they drew a line at giving grace for betrayal.
No, Owen, she’s not part of the family. She’s just another one of your flings. Let’s be honest here. Scotty isn’t sticking around.
Casper probably didn’t realize how his voice had traveled across the open, empty room, but she’d kept her head down, despite the words scooping her out.
Not part of the family.
“When did you discover he’d made good on his statement?” the deputy asked.
“When . . . Well, maybe I overreacted.” She attempted an expression of chagrin. “He was still in town—he didn’t actually leave.”
“It’s too late for that. They’ve already decided to detain him until today’s hearing. Like you said—this way, he doesn’t forfeit his bail.”
She had said that as Casper stood in the hallway, waiting for his phone call. She’d kept her voice low, but apparently everything carried here. Casper, I was just trying to help.
And he’d turned his back on her.
They all had probably, after the phone call home.
“I saw his clothes gone from the closet. And Owen confessed that Casper planned to leave.”
She saw Casper eyeing her across the open room then and followed with, “But even Owen said that he’d changed his mind. He seemed adamant that Casper wasn’t going to leave.”
“Except for the empty closet. And the packed bag. And the passport and money we found at his girlfriend’s house.”
She closed her mouth, looked away.
“I think we’re done. Sign here, and I’ll get this typed up and faxed over to the courthouse.”
“Can’t you just hold Casper without charging him? You have forty-eight hours to file charges.”
By then she’d be back in Alaska, shaking off the memory of her week in Deep Haven.
As if she’d ever forget.
“Scotty!”
The voice made her jerk her head up, and she stiffened at the sight of Owen, his hand on the glass of the reception area. “Let me in!”
The deputy got to his feet. “Owen, sit down. We’re nearly done here.”
And that’s when she did it. Saw her opportunity to . . . what? Set things right? Fix the mess she’d made?
Break the rules.
She grabbed the statement and, with two quick movements, ripped it in half, then again.
The deputy turned at the sound, his eyes wide. “Nice. Now we have to start over.”
“No, we don’t. I’m done. I take it back. Let him go—Casper’s not going anywhere.” She glanced at Casper, offering a tentative, please-forgive-me smile.
He frowned.
She wanted to add an I’m sorry, but more pounding on the window made her turn.
“Owen, sit down!”
Clearly this deputy didn’t realize that Owen didn’t have a sit-down in him. Ever. And it broke her heart a little, because being on the receiving end of all that emotion had left her . . .
Loved.
The realization could knock her back into her chair. Loved. So fully, wildly, completely loved.
In fact, Owen Christiansen and his impulsive, overzealous passion had set her free from the fear that she would always be alone, the dark, cold Alaska winter abiding in her heart.
Her heart tore a little more as she glanced at him, his work jacket open over an oversize sweatshirt, his curly blond hair wild under a stocking cap, his beard scruffy, desperation all over his face as he continued to pound on the window.
Then his family filed in behind him.
Scotty stared at them, seeing them all, just the way Owen had described them to her.
Eden and overbearing enforcer Jace, who wore such a dark look it made her realize why Owen had confessed to being a little afraid of him once upon a time. Max was with them, confusion in his eyes—Max, the guy who had pursued the sister of the man he’d hurt because he had to follow his heart. And Darek, the big brother, worry more than anger on his face. Next to Darek was his petite redheaded wife, Ivy, who pushed through the crowd, spoke to the clerk.
And finally, Ingrid and John, his hands on her shoulders, maybe as much for himself as for her.
Everyone showing up en masse, Clan Christiansen to the rescue.
Scotty heard a buzz and saw Ivy turn to the group. She seemed to be talking to Ingrid, the way she grabbed her hand. Then to John, who had found Casper’s gaze, meeting it with something solid, unbroken.
It occurred to Scotty that even though she stood at the wrong end of the firing squad, she’d miss them. Their crazy humor and propensity to believe a little lunch would solve all their problems. John’s resolute belief that God watched over them, and Ingrid’s ability to soothe the day with a plate of cookies. Darek’s ironhanded big brother protection, and Grace and Eden’s attempts to teach her how to flirt. She’d miss Jace and Max’s solidarity and Raina’s sweet efforts to make Scotty feel like Owen belonged to her.
And she’d mi
ss the fact that, for a day or two, yeah, she had been part of the family.
Ivy came in, walking across the room toward Casper. But she stopped at Scotty, giving her a grim, sad smile. “I would have done the same thing.”
She would have?
Then Ivy touched her arm and headed over to Casper.
The strange, kind gesture from someone she barely knew shook her.
Oh, she had to get out of here. But to do so, she’d have to walk right through the brute squad.
She’d managed a crew of foulmouthed fishermen on the deadly Bering Sea. She could handle a mostly well-mannered group of Minnesotans. She moved toward the door, her head down.
Owen met her there. Like a wall blocking her path. “Are you okay?”
Not at all what she’d expected. “Please, Owen, I have to go.”
“What? No, Scotty. Let’s talk about this—”
“Owen, let her go.” This from Ingrid.
And that did it. Because she’d sort of hoped Ingrid, out of everyone, might be on her side. Might understand. But it wasn’t like Ingrid was her mother. She’d never had one, never needed one, and she wasn’t going to start now.
“What she said,” Scotty said to Owen, and to her great relief, he just stood there, the obedient son he was, and let her push past him.
The group parted for her, like the Red Sea rolling up the tide, as she escaped Deep Haven and the magnetic hold of the Christiansen family.
Owen could only stand there, his emotions locked in his chest, as the woman he loved, the woman he’d just betrayed, walked out of his life.
What was he thinking? He’d seen Scotty’s stripped look as he pounded on the glass, calling her name. He’d seen her rip up whatever form the deputy had been filling out. He’d seen the sad, broken smile she’d flashed in Casper’s direction as if apologizing. Most of all, he’d seen the way she looked at him, at his family.
In that blinding, breathtaking second, he realized how much she’d wanted—no, needed—not just Owen, but his entire loud, overwhelming, too-invasive family.
So now he rounded on them. “It took a lot of guts for her to go after Casper. She did something none of us were willing to do—stand up for what’s not only right but best, even if it hurt her. And believe me, arresting Casper was about the last thing she wanted to do. But she did it because she cares about this family, which is more of a miracle than any of you realize. More importantly, if anyone is paying attention, Scotty is right. If Casper ran, we all know where that would end—him being arrested on the border or maybe even gunned down as a wanted murder suspect.”
He saw the effect of those words in his mother’s eyes, the jolt, and probably that’s what she needed—what they all needed—to wake up here. “Worse, if he succeeded in running, we’d never see him again. If you think it was hard on you guys with me being gone, then imagine how gut-wrenching it would be to know that Casper could never come home. Nor contact us. We’d never know how he was, if he was okay.”
His dad settled his hand on his mother’s shoulder, steadying her.
“Prison might be horrible and unfair, but at least he won’t be alone. He’ll have us standing by him, standing by Raina. Helping raise Layla. And for the record, I wouldn’t—am not—marrying Raina. Because she doesn’t belong to me. Her heart belongs to Casper, and while I would pledge to provide for her the best I could and show up every minute she needed me and be some kind of awesome uncle, I wouldn’t ever let Layla forget that Casper is her daddy.”
He took a breath even as he saw Grace’s eyes fill, saw Eden begin to smile.
“And Scotty knew all that. Because Scotty knows me. Not the guy who left a trail of mistakes, not even the guy who on impulse dove into an ocean or asked her—and Raina, for that matter—to marry him. But the guy God is still working on. The guy who knows there is something amazing out there for him. For all of us. While Scotty might have given up on faith, I haven’t. You shouldn’t either. Because Casper needs that from us right now. And frankly, Scotty does too. So, Mom, I’m going after her, and you’re going to support us, and we’re going to believe the impossible from God. Right, Dad?”
He looked at his father, who met his gaze, a spark of something—pride?—in his eyes. “I couldn’t have said it better.”
Well then.
Owen pushed through them, and Max held the door open, saying, “Go get her, bro.”
Owen climbed into the truck. Please let her not be so far gone that he couldn’t find her, reel her back to him.
He floored it out of the parking lot, not caring that he passed two gassing-up cruisers on his way.
Stopping at the intersection, he peered down the road, searching for the rented blue Ford Escape.
Nothing.
Please.
He gunned it, tapping his brakes as he hit the 30 mph zone, then stepping hard on the gas as he climbed the hill.
Please, God.
He topped the hill at sixty, was just about to break the law when he spotted the Escape pulled over to the side of the road, right before the Come Visit Us Again sign.
He pulled in behind her. Put the car in park.
Creeping along the passenger side, he saw her hunched over. Scotty?
Oh, Scotty. She had her head down, clinging hard to the steering wheel, sobbing.
Sobbing?
He didn’t bother knocking, just reached for the handle.
Locked.
His effort to open the door made her raise her head. She stared at him with such horror on her face, he thought she might put the car into drive.
She did put the car into drive.
“Scotty!” Owen dashed around to the front of the car, a defender blocking the goal, hugging the bumper even as she tried to maneuver around him.
Now they were just sticking out into traffic. Scotty tried to straighten the car out, but Owen grabbed the hood. “You’ll have to run me over!” he shouted. “I’m not leaving.”
She sat back, her reddened eyes like daggers, her skin blotchy.
“Let me in.” He wanted to move over to the driver’s side door but feared she’d just gun it.
Then she broke, her face crumpling. She shook her head, put the car in park.
Attagirl. He leaped on the opportunity, grabbing the driver’s door handle and banging on the window. “Unlock it and scoot over.”
She looked up at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “If I have to, I’ll climb on and ride all the way to Duluth.”
The door unlocked, and Scotty pulled the emergency brake as she climbed over the middle into the passenger seat.
Owen got in. Shut the door behind him.
Silence. She folded her arms over her chest, stared out the opposite window. “Go away.” Her breath hiccuped, and she seemed to be tamping down what he had no doubt she’d categorize as a reckless display of emotion.
Which, at the moment, she didn’t need from him. So he went straight for the facts.
“Thank you for stopping Casper.”
She glanced at him, frowning.
“Yeah. We know what you did, and it was right, even if it was painful.”
She looked away.
“And more than that, clearly none of us is thinking straight here, so . . . we need you, Scotty.”
That got a response. A trembling swipe of her hand across her cheek, a shake of her head. “No, you don’t. Casper was right—I’m not a part of your family. I’m not sure why I thought—”
“You are a part of our family.”
She looked up, tears carving trails down her cheeks. He wanted to reach out, to touch her cheek, to pull her into his arms.
Except the last thing she needed was more impulsiveness.
Although he could admit having to fight the urge to scream when she said, “No, Casper was right. This was just a fling.”
Owen centered himself, like he would before a shot on goal. Breathing in, slowing his careening heartbeat. He kept his voice low, gentle. “A fling is something impulsiv
e. Fast. Driven by emotion. What I feel for you is . . . logical.”
She frowned.
“Scotty, if I have a hope to be anything like the man I want to be, I need someone who isn’t going to freak out every time an old teammate, headline, or past romance walks into my life. Someone who can logically look at the man I am now and see the truth. That, trouble or not, I’m also changed, a little more every day. And I’m going forward, not backward.”
“You want me because I have faith in the person you’re going to be? Isn’t that based on emotion?”
“Nope. It’s based on what you know.” He took her hand. “What do you know, Scotty?”
She seemed to be sorting that through her head. “That . . . you’re not afraid of facing your past and doing the right thing.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And that you’re more than a little loyal to the people you . . .”
“Love? Yep, that too.”
“And that if you could, you’d go to jail in Casper’s place.”
Huh, he hadn’t expected that one. But that proved she did know him. He nodded. “See, not emotional. Facts. Are they enough for you to believe me when I tell you that I am absolutely not letting you leave Deep Haven? That you are not a fling? And by the way, I told my family exactly that.”
“You . . . did?” Her voice filled with something he’d call . . . hope?
“Yep. Right after I told them that I’d never marry Raina and that this dog wasn’t out of the hunt for Casper’s innocence. Not yet. It’s not over until it’s over.”
“That sounds a little like ‘We’re not dead till we’re dead.’” A tentative smile broke through her expression.
So much for holding back his emotions. “Wow, I love you. You’re the one—the only one—I want. Please don’t run away. Because I’ll only have to chase after you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, looked down at her lap as if embarrassed.
And because he’d already gone this far, already taken his heart from his chest and handed it over . . . “Do you love me?”
She swallowed, her breath shaky.
Please, Scotty, don’t be afraid.
She looked up and the words filled her beautiful eyes. “I love you so much it terrifies me. I was driving away and . . . I couldn’t. I got to this sign and my brain said to keep going . . .”
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