Page 77 of Snowbound
“I saw the signs,” Owen says calmly, like none of this touches him. “Your posts. His patterns. Didn’t take long to figure it out.”
He glances away, his jaw ticking. “I may’ve been… following him.”
My stomach drops. “What?Owen?”I shake my head.
He mutters, almost smiling, “I knew about the affair.Affairs,” he says pointedly. Then, sharper, “But even if I had come to you, told you flat-out… Emma, be honest. Would you have believed me?”
I swallow. My lips feel dry. I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He watches me a beat too long.
“I went to him. I told him to sign the papers. Said he could fuck whoever he wanted. But he was never,neverto touch you again, come near you again, or contact you.”
“You did that?”
My thoughts are spinning. Too many voices in my head at once—his, mine, Jake’s.
“I don’t even know how I feel about this,” I whisper. “I don’t know how I should.” But that’s a lie. I do feel something.Too much.Rage. Awe. A twisted sense of relief at being wanted this violently.
I should be scared. Am I? I shake my head. “And when are you going to tell me the truth about your work?”
Silence. Just the hiss of the fire and the pulse pounding in my neck.
“Never,” he snaps.
“Owen—”
“Emma.I told you. It’s not about keeping you in the dark. It’s about keeping you alive. If you know too much, you’re in danger.”
I push off the wall and step toward him until the air between us vanishes. Close enough to breathe each other in. Close enough that I’m in his orbit and in danger of being incapable of making a rational decision.
“Owen,” I say again. Then, before I can stop myself… “I’m already in danger. Because I love you.”
His eyes soften.
“You do?”
“Of course I do.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought you knew.”
His mouth parts. A soundless breath. Then?—
“How the fuck would I know that? You married that loser.”
“I told you why I did that. I?—”
He leans in, cutting me off and kissing me. I can taste the longing, the yearning, the need. It’s the kind of kiss that tastes like all the years we lost.
We don’t stop until the light outside dims and his hair’s drying in messy waves. When he pulls back, his hand stays wrapped around the back of my neck.
“I want to do right by you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Whatever that means.”
I swallow hard, my hand on his broad shoulder to steady me and make my point. “Then behonest. You threatened my ex without telling me. You’re still hiding things about your work.”
“I’d do it again,” he says darkly. “And if those men today hadn’t listened to you, if they had made a move, they’d be dead. No hesitation.”
“Is that what you do?” My voice shakes. “Do you kill people for hire?”
He holds my gaze, his jaw clenched.
