The place in front of me darkens, a shadow blocking the light penetrating my lids. Fingers wipe my cheeks, and that’s when I realize, like the weak person I am, I’m crying.
“Open your eyes, Jolie,” Owen says in front of me, his tone smooth like velvet.
I shake my head, not wanting to see all the faces looking at me.
“It’s just you and me. They left. I swear, open your eyes and look at me.”
I swallow and wiggle my toes around the floor, feeling the wood beneath my feet. The air kicks on and blows over my shoulders. I’m not used to having central air. I’m not in the cabin. I’m safe.
With a deep breath, I open my eyes and see Owen staring down at me with concern and relief written all over his face. “There you are. You had me worried. That was probably too much for you right now. I should have realized. I’m sorry for that. How about I show you to your room, get you some clothes? You can take a shower or a bath, or both? I’ll have Julia prepare you some food and bring it to you. When you’re ready, you can come out here.”
“What about you?” I ask, wondering where he’s going. Is he going to leave me with these people?
“What do you mean?”
“Where are you going?”
“I live here. You’ll see me.”
“But where? Will I be close to you?” That nervous feeling starts to come back, and I realize the only true safety I’ve felt is with Owen. I’m too afraid to be away from him right now. I’ve latched on, and it’s a bad idea.
“You’ll be right across the hall from me, so if you need anything, don’t be afraid to come knock and wake me up.”
I shouldn’t be so relieved to hear that, but I am.
Owen is the only person I can count on in this world right now. Without him, what will happen to me?
Eight
Owen
I let out the biggest exhale of my life while I sit at the bar stool at the kitchen island. Suddenly, I’m bone fucking tired, stressed out, and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with Jolie. And why the fuck do I like it when she looks at me with those big green eyes, lost and scared, needing me to tell her that everything is okay?
I shouldn’t fucking like that.
But I do.
I like that I’m needed in ways that I’m not needed by the group. It feels good.
“You alright?” Jaxon asks as he pours me a cup of coffee, and he spikes it with whiskey.
“I’ll take one too,” Grayson says as he takes a seat next to me.
“Do I look like a fucking bartender? Get your ass up and make it yourself. Owen is tired from saving someone. What are you tired from?” Jaxon slides the white mug toward me and the coffee/whiskey combination spills over the rim.
“Jeez, alright. Don’t twist your balls over it. I’ll do it,” Grayson says, holding out his hands in a calming gesture as he gets up from the chair.
Jaxon rolls his eyes and leans against the counter, sipping his drink as he stares at me. No wonder Jolie got so afraid. The man is terrifying to look at. I fucked up. I take a big gulp of the scalding hot coffee and let it burn my throat. Jaxon wants to know what’s going on. I have to tell him a dead body is going to show up soon, and it’s going to be another thing we’re going to have to take care of.
“Talk to me. Catch me up. What happened? What are we getting ourselves into? Is it going to interfere with the job we have coming up?”
“Fuck,” I muster under my breath before taking another sip of coffee. I forgot about the upcoming job. We haven’t worked in what feels like forever. The last job fucked us up, and we’ve been waiting on Heaven’s leg to heal. “It might. I might not be able to go. She’s afraid of everyone.”
“I see that. Want to tell me why?” he says, his gold Rolex shining in the light as he brings the mug to his mouth.
I lift a finger, telling him to give me a minute, and down the rest of my coffee, then fill the mug with a shot of whiskey. Grayson sits next to me with his drink and decides he wants in on the conversation too. “Might as well get everyone in here. I don’t want to repeat myself.” I shoot back the whiskey from my coffee cup. The lingering taste of rich java still lingers, but it isn’t enough to wake me up. If anything I’m just as tired as I was before.
Jaxon opens up his phone and sends a group text to everyone. My phone dings, as does Grayson’s, and a few seconds later, there are footsteps coming down the hall. Sebastian pokes his head out next, and Heaven is behind him, bag of Cheetos in hand and orange smears across his shirt from the dusting stuck to his fingers from the cheesy treat.