Wretched (Never After Series)(74)

But the months dragged by.

Then one day, twelve months and seventeen days after I killed Agent Cody Baum and helped Eveline escape, my phone rang.

He found her, living in a small town off the coast of Ireland. Exactly how she always dreamed.

It’s been three days since I’ve heard the news, and I still haven’t done shit about it.

Rose sighs, coming over to sit down next to me on the living room couch. “You should go to her.”

Swallowing around the knot in my throat, I shake my head. “She’s okay without me.”

“Well, I’m sick of you,” she laughs. “And while I appreciate the way you’ve been filling up our place with beautiful furniture, if you give me another end table, I’ll start a goddamn fire just to make some room.”

“I don’t want to leave you, kid.”

She smiles, nudging my shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland.”

That’s all it takes. The next morning I’m on a flight, with a scribbled address on a piece of paper and nothing but nerves and hope exploding in my chest. It takes eight hours and I’m on the edge of my seat the entire time, wondering what I’ll say when I see her, if she even wants to see me at all.

Time moves slower when you’re anxious to start the rest of your life, but eventually it does move.

I step out of the cab, staring up at the small bed-and-breakfast in Doolin Village. The town itself is quaint, colorful buildings lining a beautiful landscape of rolling green hills and a sparkling sea. But I’m not staring at any of that. Not when Eveline’s right in front of me.

She’s walking out of the front door and heading down the street, a notebook in her hand and a black flowy skirt swishing around her knees. She looks the same yet entirely different. Her black hair is gone, the natural brown waves flowing to the middle of her back, and the freckles scattered across her face are visible even from where I’m standing across the street.

My heart stalls in my chest and my hand comes up to rest on top of it.

She takes my fucking breath away.

I follow behind her.

We walk for what feels like hours, but I don’t mind the view, soaking in the way she’s just existing. Eventually, the path narrows and the view changes, going from rolling land into sharp cliffs that drop into the sea.

Waves crash against the rocks and she stops in a small area where no one else is around, staring out at the ocean, the wind making her hair fly in different directions behind her.

Thunder rumbles low and deep in the distance, and I look beyond where we are, noticing the dark-gray clouds rolling in, sheets of rain visible as they crash onto the land.

She sits down, crossing her legs and opening her notebook, and I stand back and watch her like an absolute creep. She scribbles then scratches and brings the pen up to her lips, her head tilting in thought.

Finally, I make my move.

“You’re trying too hard,” I take a step closer, my heart slamming against my chest.

Her body freezes and she twists around, her mouth dropping open as she stares at me.

“Excuse me?” she says. “Who says I’m trying?”

She stands, her gaze fierce and her lips turned down, and for just a moment, my chest stalls, thinking maybe she’s upset I’m here. That maybe she hasn’t forgiven me, and maybe she never will.

But then a grin spreads across her face. A real one, the kind that shows all her teeth and makes her eyes crinkle in the corners.

My heart skips and stutters then starts beating in a steady rhythm.

And with that single smile, I know I’ve made it home.





EPILOGUE





EVELINE





He’s here.

It’s been twelve months, almost to the day, and I had given up hope that he’d find me. I’m glad he didn’t until now.

I needed time to breathe, to learn how to be me without the added weight of expectation. And I needed time to forgive him.

So I came to Ireland, and I fell in love, knowing I’d never leave.

Not that I could anyway, considering I’m a fugitive.

Nicholas is standing a few paces away and he moves forward, not stopping until he’s directly in front of me. I breathe deeply, cinnamon and pine rushing through my senses and making my chest flip. It aches from missing him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

He sticks out his hand. “I’m Nicholas Tennyson Woodsworth.”

My throat swells, and I place my palm in his. Goose bumps race up my arms at the contact and I glance down at where we’re touching. “Kind of a long name.”

He laughs. “Are you gonna tell me yours?”

Shaking my head, I look up at him. “How do I know you’re not a stalker?”

“Oh, pretty girl.” He steps in close, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. I go willingly, sinking into his hold. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

I press my head into his palm, bending slightly to slip my hand beneath my skirt and grab my brand-new gun. It isn’t rose gold, and it doesn’t have the memories, but it still does the job. I drag it up his torso and place it beneath his chin. “Give me your words, Nicholas. And maybe I’ll let you stay.”

His eyes flare.