Forsaken Duty (Red Team #9)(17)

“You were in my room.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Now you worry about me.”

“I didn’t worry about you before because I thought you were dead,” he said. Her eyes widened. “But there hasn’t been a day that passed that I didn’t think about the accident. It changed my life, Laidy, losing you. It cut a piece out of me that never healed over. That piece, this past decade, it’s just gone.”

Her face hardened. “I lived it. You missed it. But it’s you who are the victim. That’s just great, Owen. Really great.”

She was angry. Understandably so…and yet he still didn’t understand. He probably wouldn’t until she opened up to him. Jax certainly wasn’t going to fill in the blanks. The coward had already taken off.

“What was the meaning of that picture?” she asked.

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

Owen drew back. He stared at her. They’d spent a week together with the chickenpox, both of them feverish and miserable, and she didn’t remember. Clearly his stupid drawing had sucked. He tried to focus on that rather than dwell on the fact that he remembered everything about her…everything, while she’d forgotten everything about him.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.” Troy was coming down the hallway, sparing both of them further torture.





7





Owen went downstairs for dinner. He’d borrowed a suit from Jax’s wardrobe. They were still the same size, though Jax’s taste in clothes was different from Owen’s. At least he suits in his closet. Owen thought about how casual things were at Blade’s. The only thing the team dressed for was missions.

The house was quiet, but then, he was about a half-hour early for supper. He wandered into the dining room. There were only two place settings on the table. Wasn’t hard to guess who was the unwelcome party. Owen bellowed for the butler. He came out of the kitchen wearing a starched white apron over his suit.

“Mr. Tremaine. How may I help you?”

“There seems to be a place setting missing.”

Spencer looked at the table. A faint wash of color tinted his face. “There is not a place setting missing. Ms. Jacobs insisted you would be taking your supper in your room.”

“No. I will be joining her and Troy.”

“I see. Then I’ll add a place for you.”

“Thank you.” Owen wandered into the parlor to pour himself a glass of Balcones. At six, Owen heard Addy and Troy come down the stairs. They were having a cheerful conversation about several sets of mathematical equations, which stopped when Addy saw him. He gave a slight nod to her. She wore her wig again. Why? Why hide herself from him or anyone?

“You,” she hissed.

“Yes, me.” He stood and set his glass down. “May I walk you in to supper?”

“No. I made it clear to Spencer that you won’t be dining with us.”

He gave her a frosty smile. “Then you’ve made an error, for this is exactly where I need to be.”

Had he not been watching her so closely, he might have missed the shiver that passed through her. There was a time she screamed to see him, but with joy, not fury. Troy’s eyes widened as he glanced back and forth between them. He put his hand in his mother’s.

Owen gestured toward the dining room. “Shall we?”

They stood there as if frozen in place. It gave Owen a chance to take in everything about her. Her silky shirt. Her earrings. Her slacks. Her strappy heels. And the small bandage on her toe. He frowned at it. How was that possible? At the time he’d cleaned her wound, he’d thought they really should go to a hospital for stitches. He’d managed to seal the wound, but had still been worried at leaving it that way. Now all the wound needed was a regular bandage. It didn’t even look swollen or bruised.

He let it go for the moment. Later, when Troy wasn’t there, he’d ask her about it.

Addy seemed locked in place.

Owen frowned.

“Mommy?” Troy whispered when they didn’t go into the dining room. He tugged on her hand.

Her smile looked forced. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m suddenly not feeling well. I think we’ll have to eat upstairs.” She pulled Troy with her out of the living room.

Her son frowned and looked behind them. “But Mr. Tremaine’s here.”

“He’s a grownup. He can fend for himself.”

“But…”



Addy rushed her son into the foyer and up the stairs. She tried to keep her hand steady, though her whole body was shaking. Echoes of all the times her husband had brought unwanted guests to their house kept ripping through her. All those years. Night after night of hell. Day after day of forced smiles, despite the bruises, despite the threats to Augie, and then Troy. The years since her divorce weren’t enough time to make her forget. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough time.

A cold sweat broke out all over her body. There was no way she could have sat at the same table with Owen, knowing what she now did. None of her life was the same as before her divorce—the staff were different; she was different. Stronger, maybe. She’d promised herself she would never again have to suffer through unwanted visitors, and yet one—the worst one of all—was being foisted on her.