Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Fists fly. Then, Owen lifts him and throws him right out the door. Jake lands in the melting snow with a scream.
I stare, speechless. Get the fuck out of here,” Owen says, his voice calm now. Too calm. Then he picks up his phone and dials.
“You asked me if I wanted a favor?” he says. “Jake fucking Marlowe.”
A pause.
“You know what to do.”
He hangs up and pockets the phone.
Jake scrambles to his feet, blood dribbling from his mouth.
“I’m calling your mother,” Jake says, as if that’s supposed to scare me. “I’m telling her what a—”
Owen steps forward.
Jake bolts, trips, runs to the car he still left running beyond the pine I decorated a few yards away. He peels away, tires sloshing through the mud and slush, and then…
Silence.
Owen turns to me, crossing the floor in two strides. He cups my jaw gently.
“The only reason he’s still breathing is because of you,” he says. “If it were up to me, I’d make him die, slow and painful, and put my own handprint across his cheek. But I know you have… different rules.”
I swallow. “Who did you call?”
“The McCarthys,” he growls. “They’ll make sure he doesn’t come near you again.”
“Owen…” My voice cracks.
He touches my cheek. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll take care of it.”
That’s what terrifies me.
But it’s also what anchors me.
Owen takes care of things, and this time… I’ll let him.
“Come inside, Owen,” I whisper.
Because I suddenly know how the story ends.
The final chapter’s clear.
I turn to him, bury my face in his barrel of a chest, and let out a long, shaky breath.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
I don’t know if it’s over. Not really. But I know I’m safe now, wrapped in Owen’s arms. Jake is decidedly not in my life anymore.
I’m back where I swore I’d never be… and maybe exactly where I belong.
My phone rings at the same time as Owen’s.
Mine says: Mom.
His: Dad
It’s not a coincidence, of course. Jake called them, the fucking loser.
“I’ll go first, Emma.” I nod, grateful he’s willing to lead this. I want this bullshit over, and Owen never backed down in the face of tension.
He answers my phone and puts it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Who is that? Emma? Are you there?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m here. That was Owen.”
She doesn’t answer at first, then says in a shaky voice, “So what Jake said is true.”
“Depends,” Owen finishes. “What did he say?”
“That you two are… together. A couple.”
“Is that why you didn’t answer the feckin’ phone?” his dad snarls in the background. “Are you with Emma?”
Owen meets my eyes. Our breath mingles. “I am. Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
I grin at him, even as my heart beats so fast I’m feeling a little dizzy.
They both speak at once.
“You can’t do that!”
“Emma, I thought I knew you!”
“How could you cheat on your husband with your brother?”
My blood boils. I hold a hand up to Owen to let me talk, and he nods, shaking his head, his gorgeous green eyes narrowed.
“Wait. First of all, Jake cheated on me,” I say, my hands shaking. “Second of all, Owen isn’t my goddamn brother!”
“Emma!” For once in her life, my mother’s without words. Owen grins at me.
“She’s right,” Owen says, his voice deep and certain. Claiming. “She’s mine, and no one has to approve or give their blessing or even know what the fuck we’re doing together. Jake cheated on her. You want to tear someone a new one, call him.”
I nod at him. And on that note, he hangs up the phone. I take it from his hands, open the door, and fling it as far as I can into the melting slushy snow. I shut the door and see him blink in surprise.
I shrug. “It’s a dumb, half-broken phone, and it’s on Jake’s plan. I need a new number anyway. And I—”
But I don’t get to finish the sentence. Owen’s mouth is on mine, and I’m in his arms, my legs wrapped around him, his huge hands gripping my ass so hard I moan into his mouth as our tongues tangle. He growls into mine.
The door slams shut behind us. Somewhere out there, my phone is vibrating in the slushy remains of the snowstorm that brought us together, and I don’t care. There’s no one left I need to talk to.
Only him.
Owen carries me down the hall, kicks open the bedroom door, and lays me down. He isn’t rough or wild, but reverent. His eyes drag over me. “Take it off,” he says, his voice low, already reaching for the hem of my hoodie. “I want to see you in this bed and nothing else.”
The fabric’s gone, and I’m bare beneath it. He stares at me, and I know he likes what I see.
“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispers, brushing my hair back.