Chapter 9

Shawn

“Let me give you a tour of the house.”

I watch her copy me and gulp down the rest of her whiskey before she takes both glasses off the table.

For a while, I stare at the table, not moving. I have so many questions.

Like, did we buy this table together? Or did James buy it for you, or did you buy it on your own? Why did you move here and sell our home?

Not that I remember the old home. The authorities gave me an address and told me that’s where I used to live. Sadly for me, the place was up for sale.

Evelyn sold it, and the couple who bought it were now selling again.

My memory doesn’t fucking help me in any way. Every step of my discovery tour is pieced together mainly by things I’m told by other people.

“You coming, or have you grown roots there?”

Evelyn’s voice rouses me out my navel-gazing, and I get to my feet to follow her.

“This is the kitchen. It’s the hub of the house. Most of our time is spent here.”

She didn’t have to tell me this. The room looks lived in, unlike the living room. I wonder why the living room is so sterile, but again, I don’t ask the question.

As she walks out of the kitchen, she passes me, and my senses are assaulted by her femininity. She smells sweet and homely. I inhale deeply to get maximum exposure to her scent.

Vague images try to get into my head, but they’re too faint to be of any significance.

It might be a surge of testosterone, but I think I can just about feel her raging hormones. It would be ever so easy to stop and kiss her, but I don’t.

I force myself to turn and follow her.

There’s still so much we haven’t talked about. Seven years is a long time.

Had she been with anyone during that time? The thought of Evelyn with someone else has rage pulsing through me like I haven’t known before. The thought of my Evy in the arms of James, my alleged best friend, leaves me with murderous thoughts.

“There are two guest rooms down here.” She opens the door to each one.

I only have eyes for one thing, though, and it’s not the rooms.

“And at the end, there’s a small bathroom with a toilet and shower.”

We’ve reached the end of the corridor, and she turns around.

I’m standing in her way.

I feel her eyes upon me. Mine are studying her in minute detail, moving over her face, her neck, her chest until they move all the way down to her legs.

She hasn’t changed a bit. If anything, she’s more exquisite than ever. Having a baby obviously was good for her.

It’s dangerous times, with my cock threatening to take over and sending my brain on vacation. If I’m not careful, I’ll just grab her and have my way with her.

“After you,” she mumbles.

I take a step to the side and invite her to pass by me. This way, I get to check out her cute ass without her knowing.

“I’ll show you upstairs,” she whispers and just about runs past me like a frightened gazelle.

“You’ve seen Tanner’s room. Mine is here.” She doesn’t invite me in, only gestures in the general direction. “There’s a larger bathroom and toilet down there, and at the very end is our music-slash-playroom, where we also spend a lot of time.”

I nod but don’t move.

“Ehem,” she starts and stops, “and there’s another guest room here.”

Evelyn turns to her left and opens the door.

As we both enter, our bodies brush against one another. I feel electric sparks jump between us. She moves away as if she’s received an electric jolt. I pretend not to notice, but her actions leave me wondering.

When she turns on the light, I see this room is larger than the ones downstairs. It’s painted off white with a space gray ceiling. On the walls are photographs of lizards and frogs.

“Tanner likes reptiles, and he chose them for the guest room.”

I’m tempted to ask if James sleeps in here, but then again, I don’t think I’m ready for the answer just yet. If she tells me James sleeps with her, I don’t know what I’ll do.

A murder charge on top of my other troubles would not bode well for me, that much I know.

Better not tempt fate. Sometimes, knowledge can be highly overrated.

“I didn’t bring an overnight bag,” I say this just to say something as I continue to look at the room. Dark blue sheets are on the bed, and dark blue curtains hide a window. There’s a mahogany chest and matching bedside tables.

All of the furniture looks new.

I glance down to check out the carpet. Dark blue, age unknown. It occurs to me she hasn’t said how long she has lived here, when has she sold our place, and why she moved in the first place.

Did James have a hand in all of this?

From what I can see, he doesn’t spend a lot of time here. So far, I haven’t noticed any men’s shoes or clothing lying around.

But if he’s a one-night man here and there, there wouldn’t be any evidence of him here, would there? Maybe a toothbrush in the bathroom and his slippers under the bed—her bed—would be all the evidence of his occasional sleepovers.

Again, the thought nearly has me frothing at the mouth.

“I can lend you one of your old shirts to sleep in,” she offers.

“Sounds great.” I don’t let on how the news she’s still got one of my old shirts fills my heart with glee.

“I’ll just get it for you.”

My gaze follows her as she leaves the room.

While I wait for her return, I sit on the bed and take my shoes off. Then I pick them up and put them by the door. An army habit—always keep your shoes by the doorway or tent entrance so you know where they are and can put them on quickly when you need to.

Old habits die hard.

When she comes back, I was just straightening up. The door hits me in the head, and she gasps in shock.

“Sorry,” she mumbles and takes a step to the side.

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “The last knock on the head brought back some memory. You never know; it might work again.”

There’s the hint of a smile around her lips.

“Here,” she holds out one of my old shirts. It’s olive green and extra-large. Briefly, I imagine her petite body in it. Fucking gorgeous is how she’d look in it.

As I take it, our fingers touch. Sparks fly between us. My skin burns where our flesh connects.

“I’ve worn it to bed every night since you’ve left. I guess I’ll be left with nothing to wear tonight.” There’s a sparkle in her eyes—a sparkle I’ve seen before, I’m sure of it.

I hold the shirt and grin. “I could always share,” I wink at Evelyn.

My words leave her blushing. Her cheeks redden a little, and she drops her gaze.

“Or I could come and keep you warm,” I offer.

She doesn’t have a comeback.

I reach for her hand and squeeze it. My thumb strokes the top of it. I had forgotten how soft her skin feels, how smooth it feels beneath my rough hands.

“Good night,” she mumbles as we stare at each other.

I feel as if I’m walking on a knife’s edge. Put one foot wrong, and I’ll tumble downwards, to possible ruin and disaster.

The urge to pull her toward me is so strong, it’s fucking hard to resist. But what if she pushes me away in disgust? How will I handle rejection?

And who could blame her?

I mean, fuck, what have I got to offer? I’m a broken man with enough baggage to fill an entire jumbo jet.

James, on the other hand…no, I can’t compare myself to James. It’s wrong, and it won’t do me any good.

“Good night, Evy.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have used her nickname. But trouble is, she’s my Evy—the woman I fell in love with, married, and planned to grow old with.

I continue to stare at the spot where she stood, long after she has left the room, almost willing her to come back.