And I’d give in because she’d be my little girl. She’d have me wrapped around her finger.
I press my palms against my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I know. I need to be over it by now, but I can’t get her death out of my head. I can feel the last breath leaving her mouth against my cheek. It’s all too real for me.
A knock at the door has my eyes falling from the ceiling to the door.
“Owen, Julia made breakfast,” Heaven’s happy voice has me turning on my side and giving the door my back. I tuck my hands under my head and ignore the constant pounding.
No one knows my secret, not even Jaxon, our leader. The guy who made the group. He took in a few guys who were innocent of their crimes, and he found me. I didn’t find him. When I got out of jail, I had planned to go right back in. It was where I belonged. Jaxon didn’t ask for my story, but he read my file and apparently confessing and not saying anything else for my defense was a clear giveaway to him that I didn’t kill my wife.
I remember walking out of the prison gates with a bag thrown over my shoulder. I saw a man leaning against an old 67’ Chevy painted charcoal gray.
“Tell me the truth, and I’ll go. Did you kill her?”
I stay silent, wanting to say yes, but the words won’t leave my mouth. I stop walking. I want to move my feet. My brain is telling me to move, to get going so I can find a way back inside. I need to die there. Behind bars, unloved, with nothing, but I’m frozen.
“Join me and my men, and you can get your revenge. I promise you, you can right the wrong done to you. If you didn’t kill her, and I don’t think you did.”
And the rest is history. I jumped into his car and what a beauty it was.
Until we totaled it on the next job, and now he swears he won’t ever get a classic car again because it hurt too much to lose Martha—the 67’ Chevy.
I never told Jaxon my story. He had my file, and that’s all the information he needed. I know he researched me. He had to in order to bring me into his home. Jaxon never asked me about it. He never pressed.
He just … knew.
And I’ll forever be in his debt for that.
“Owen? It’s ten in the morning. You’re always up. You okay?” Heaven prods, knocking again.
I don’t say a word. I close my eyes and bring the comforter to my chin. Today I’m going to be a sad, pathetic sap who can’t fucking move on from the murder of his wife.
In two days, I’ll be back to the old me, and everything will return to normal.
“Heaven, leave him alone,” Jaxon interrupts Heaven’s shenanigans to try to get me out of the bedroom. “He’s taken two personal days like he does every year. It isn’t our business.”
“Shit, is he okay?”
Heaven is a good friend, and there are so many times I wish I could confide in someone to tell them the burden I carry. It gets so heavy, and it’s why I need these two days.
Today I lost my future.
Today I’m just a fucking man.
I’m a human being.
Today I’m going to let my heart grieve.
“He’ll be fine,” Jaxon reassures, and I hear a pat on the back. “Go on, go eat brunch.”
If I know Heaven, he’s eyeing Jaxon before taking him up on his word. “Fine, but if he self-destructs, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal,” Jaxon says.
Heaven drags his bum leg as he walks down the hall. The cast finally gets to come off next week. It’s been months since the explosion, and he’s the only one left waiting to heal. We’re counting on it coming off before we go on our heist.
A softer tap on the door has me sighing. I want to be left alone.
“I know you want to be left alone,” Jaxon plucks the words right out of my head. “I want you to know we’re here for you. Take all the time you need. Everyone is in the kitchen, so if you need to go do what you need to do, I understand. Everyone is preoccupied.”