“I just can’t get his face out of my head. He was lying there. His eyes were open.” He reaches out, brushing my tears away with one gentle finger. “I was so scared that he was going to take her from me. But I never wanted him to die. I just wanted him to stop.”
“I know. Everyone knows that Cara. The cops, the media, all of us. We know.”
“It doesn’t make it better, though. I still feel so awful.”
“I would do anything to make it better. I wish I could take it away. Just build a time travel device, zip back in time, and make sure none of it ever happens.”
It’s an intriguing idea, and I welcome the distraction. “What would you use? Like a phone booth?”
He grins, looking all kinds of geeky. “Nah. I’d go with a Delorian. I’ve actually got one in my warehouse.”
“Of course you do,” I say with a laugh. “I’d really like to see it.”
“I’ll take you some time. We can take it out to the track.” He rests his hand on my head, his thumb making slow sweeps across my forehead. My eyelids get heavy immediately. So much better than a sleeping pill.
“I get to drive,” I mumble. “I’m a good driver. I drive a fast car.” Pretty sure I also say ‘zoom, zoom,’ making him laugh, but I’m already too far gone to know for sure.
“We’ll see,” he murmurs. I’d like to argue with him, challenge him. But I’m out.
23
DECLAN
S he talks in her sleep. So far, she’s mumbled about lettuce, pinchy shoes, and snakes. I don’t know what the hell she’s dreaming about, but it’s fucking hilarious. I’ve been sitting here next to her, watching her sleep for hours. Her confession running through my head the whole time. I know she’s been talking to Janey, but she clearly needs more help. And I’m going to make sure she gets it. In the meantime, she’s got me. I’m not a fucking professional, but I can take anything she needs to tell me. Anything she’s feeling.
She’s given me an in. A small one, but I’m going to run with it. Starting with our first date. Throwing on my coat, I slip out of the room, making sure I don’t let the cold air hit her and wake her up. I need a little more time to get things organized.
I check my phone —no bars— and I can’t help feeling relieved. My brothers are overbearing, full of opinions, way too nosey, and guaranteed to interfere. They’ve been on my case for months, giving me helpful —ok, not so helpful— unsolicited advice. I’m over it.
I push into the pub, giving my eyes a second to adjust to the dim lighting. Beelining for the owner, I grab a bunch of dirty dishes off the table she’s clearing, stacking them in my arms. She smiles, and I follow her to the kitchen. She’s rosy-cheeked, her gray hair falling out of her bun.
“Thank you, young man.”
“I haven’t been called that in a while,” I say with a laugh.
She chuckles, patting me on the arm as she efficiently loads a tray and slides it into the huge dishwasher. “When you get to be my age, everyone under fifty is young. Now, what can I do for you? Is the room ok?”
“The room is great. I’m grateful to have it. But I was hoping for your help.”
“Of course,” she says without a hint of hesitation. Shaking my head, I wonder when I got so cynical. I came in here prepared to bribe this woman to help me. But she’s clearly in her element, running around taking care of people. I don’t meet many people like her anymore. Everyone in the city knows who I am and expects me to pay, which is fine. I don’t mind paying my way. It’s the assholes who think because I have a metric fuckton of money, that they can take advantage of me, that I have a problem with. People like this, though? People like her and the grizzled old man at the grill? I’m going to leave them better than I found them.
“My...Cara.” Girlfriend nearly slips off my tongue. “I’d like to do something nice for her. I was hoping you could help me?”
A blinding smile covers her face. “Anything.”
I’M FIDDLING WITH THE BLANKET ON THE FLOOR WHEN CARA GROANS AND PUSHES UP IN BED. HER HAIR is falling in her face, and she sweeps it over her shoulder with a brush of her hand. Her eyes blink slowly, taking in the room before sharpening on me. She shoves the covers off and crawls towards the end of the bed, silky top dipping dangerously low, and I choke on my own spit.
Eyes wide, she doesn’t notice my sputtering as she gazes at everything I’ve put together.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. Finally, I shove them into my hoodie pockets and sit back on my heels. “I wanted to do something...special for our first date. I know it’s a little cheesy, but would you have a picnic with me?”
“I am in so much trouble,” she mutters under her breath as she leans forward and slides off the bed headfirst, landing curled in a ball in front of me. It should have been funny. It’s not the typical smooth Cara I’m used to. But I’m not laughing because her mouth is right at my knee, and I want to drag her up into my lap and have her straddle me. I’m not going to do that, obviously. But I need my hands on her, so I cup her under the arms and straighten her up. She’s still staring at the spread in front of us. At the picnic basket, the champagne glasses and the bottle of sparkling juice in a big pot filled with ice.
“I might have gone a little overboard. I just wanted it to be nice, but I didn’t have a lot to choose from. It is cheesy. I’m sorry—“
Her hand curling into the front of my hoodie shuts me up. The way she pulls me to her and lines up our mouths makes my thighs tense. And when she presses her lips to mine, my brain shuts down.
Cara, her mouth on mine, has featured pretty heavily in my dreams over the last few years. I expected to be wrecked. I expected to want.
