Page 82 of Buried Roots

A memory flashes of Owen, joking on our way to the hospital with second-degree burns, missing facial hair, with sooty clothes. Suddenly, I’m never so sure in my life about how I feel.

“I love Owen,” I say, looking around at the lines of backed up cars as far as the eye can see. The endless skyrises, the moving crowd, the symphony of sirens, blaring horns, and roaring engines. It’s buzzing with electricity—but I don’t feel a part of it anymore. “I’m madly, deeply, pathetically in love with that man.”

I finally know when enough is enough.

It’s now.

32

The Guest

IstepuptoOwen’s porch with a to-go plate of my spaghetti and my suitcase filled with all my clothes and Demon’s favorite treat, liver-filled dog bones. Tesla’s crate is strapped to the top, and yeah, I’m struggling. When I knock on the door, I shake off my case of the jitters and get my thoughts together.

When it swings open, it’s Owen with shock on his face.

“I brought spaghetti,” I blurt, my thoughts scattering like marbles. “For Sunday dinner. Tonight. I was wrong. About… everything.” I shrug. “Violet Moon is where I’m meant to be, with you. And just so you know, you’re in my dreams, too. You’re all I think about, too.” I bobble my head. “And… Ilikedyou a whole lot from the moment I met you. I loved you from the moment you delivered Oreo and I got to see how you were with Eclipse.“ I meet his eyes, which are blank, unreadable, as he stands unmoving. So, I keep rambling, shifting on my feet. “You’re the one I want to be with forever, even though the thought scares me. And I’mterrifiedI’m gonna lose you, but I have to try because you’re worth it.”

Without a word, Owen steps onto the porch and pulls me into a hug, his arms trembling as he holds me tight. We just stand in the moment, the warm, thick Georgia breeze swirling around us. Something I missed in the four days I was gone.

“I love you so much,” he whispers as his fingers caress my back.

“I love you too.”

When he finally pulls away, his eyes meet mine. He says, “So, you’re really here to stay?”

I wring my hands. “Well, I don’t have a place to live. And I don’t have a job. So, yeah. I’m here, but there are some things I have to get worked out.” I manage a weak smile. “But I’ve started from nothing before. I can do it again.”

“Without question.” That gorgeous smile of his takes over his face.

I take a cleansing breath, looking around. Behind the house, the sunlight reflects on the lake in the distance, the shadows of pine trees framing it. That Georgia evening sky is exploding with colors. “This view is stunning.”

“You have no idea,” Owen mumbles, his eyes focused on me.

The way he says those words is a jolt to the heart, and I can’t wait for evenings like this for the rest of my life.

He nods to the plate in my hands and says, “So, this means another spaghetti night?”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

He leans over it and my turtle carrier to bring his lips to mine. I take in his kiss, his warmth, his everything, and I know, without a doubt, this is right.

Owen takes the plate of spaghetti from my hands before he opens the front door. He stops and turns back. “Welcome to Sunday dinner. Oh, and I gotta warn you. The whole family’s over tonight.”

Nerves twitch under my skin, but I won’t let them win. I’m here, dammit.

He lingers, saying, “Do they have any more information on the fire?”

“I got emailed the latest report. It was arson. Someone cut the electrical wires.” Which means I have no insurance coverage.

“Shit. You think Mary Louise made Huck do it? Would she go that far to get the land?”

“Probably—what have you seen on the local news?”

Owen groans. “The only information the marshal’s made public is Bailey’s testimony of a small-framed man in a hooded sweatshirt. But they’ve interviewed everyone in town.”

My heart sinks, but I nod.

We step into Owen’s house, or Frankie’s house, and it’s so… frilly. Which, knowing Frankie, makes zero sense. But weirder than that, it’s all so familiar.

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