Chapter 18
Megan woke to an obnoxious noise, assaulting smells, and unrelenting light. When she found her way from under the blankets, she was able to identify her annoyances as birds, breakfast, and what would typically be beautiful fall sunshine. She was pretty sure the devil himself was tightening the vice on her head while turning up the volume on the rest of the world. “Friggin’ birds!”
Memories of the night before swarmed through her head like a bad movie. Hopeful her memories were exaggerated versions of truth, the way she felt told another story. How humiliating. Flashes of Jessie laughing at her and petting Morgan sunk in first. The fist pumping with Lou and declaring her love for each of them paled in comparison to her ultimate humiliation. The most painful of all…those three little words she delivered after a high five to Blake. She told Colton she loved him.
Truth be told, she did indeed love him. However, that was not how she wanted to tell him – with an audience who had video evidence. She closed her eyes in shame, scolding herself for being so irresponsible, and then she remembered her dance. Planting her face in her hands, she recalled every detail of her little dance of seduction, which was bordering cheap porn star quality. Then, it hit her, her grand finale…epic embarrassment. She threw up all over the man she had just declared her love for. She was winning. Why couldn’t she be one of those drunks who forgets everything instead of remembering in high def?
“You don’t like birds?” Colton asked with a puzzled look on his face. “I brought you breakfast if you’re up to it.”
Startled, she quickly tried to hide her face in shame at the sound of his voice. She smacked her mouth open and closed trying to identify the wretched taste that was foreign until now, and to clear the dry cotton sensation that made her tongue feel glued to the roof of her mouth.
“I usually like birds just fine. They are just louder today than usual. Shouldn’t they have flown south by now? Ugh!”
She couldn’t help but notice how sexy he looked half-dressed in gray sweatpants resting low on his hips. She felt like shit, but she wasn’t dead. Nor was her libido which was causing all kinds of tingling in all the right places. Who knew sweatpants were the new sexy? He needed those in every color, she thought.
“Take the Tylenol…you’ll feel better. Think you can handle a bit to eat?” He gave her his 100-watt smile, dimple included, and placed a large lap table between them on the bed.
It appeared that he thought of everything, and it was set up as a mini family style buffet. He prepared bacon, a bowl of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs – that would be a hard pass – as well as a couple pastries, and some oatmeal with fixings on the side. She smiled at the last plate, her favorite…toast. He knew her so well, made it just the way she liked it, slathered in a heart attack worthy amount of butter and almost burnt. He gave her a wink and a smile when she went for the toast.
“I wasn’t sure what you would feel like, so I went with a variety—should have known toast would be your pick,” he said.
“You can never go wrong with toast. This is…” she said as she took a hearty bite, froze, stopped chewing, and made a sour face. “…disgusting!”
Colton’s face went from happy and light to serious and concerned. Alcohol, hang over – of course, it tasted awful. Everything would for a while. He laughed as she quickly chewed and reached for her coffee. Another bad move. She sat back, watery eyes, with her hands over her mouth.
“Honey, you’ve never been drunk before, have you?” he chuckled.
“Is that what this is? The wine? What did I do to myself? Oh, my God, I need
coffee, but it’s…not coffee. It’s poison!” she proclaimed.
“Stick to water for a bit, and try getting some of that toast in. It’ll go away soon,” he assured her, even though she wasn’t buying it. “Are you still up for heading over to Portland? I can just have Sam and Dawson pick up the equipment for the House, and I’m sure they’d have no problem picking up that donation you needed for the Bazaar, too.”
“No!” Her reply was more of an urgent yell than she intended, but she had been looking forward to this trip to the city for over a month now. “They have a real mall there, and boutiques…are you kidding me? I’m not
missing it! I need something to wear to the Gala that isn’t flannel or covered in faux fur!” She joked as she tossed a grape into her mouth, making that sour face again.
Her unease over the previous night’s blunders dissipated as an overwhelming rush of excitement took its place. A real mall, with real stores, full of impractical shoes, and a lot of non-flannel.
The two finished their breakfast and picked up where they had left off the previous night before the alcohol interfered. She may have been slightly hung over, but that couldn’t dampen the ache he caused her in all the right places. Both had been hot and bothered with no relief, making their good morning romp in the sack just that much more satisfying.
After a steamy tryst in the shower, they began their day and prepared for their long-awaited trip to Portland. Colton cleaned up breakfast, surprised at Meg’s packing progress when he returned to the bedroom. He leaned against the wall and watched her work with a smile on his face. She had piles of clothes for her and Jax, organized by day, it appeared. If he didn’t know any better, it looked like she was working on his pile as well.
He could really get used to this life. Hell, who was he kidding? He already was. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to fix her house, and she could stay with him forever.
“What are you looking at?” she shyly asked, knowing it was her.
“My beautiful girl… I could watch her for hours,” he replied, in all honesty.
“Folding clothes turns you on?” she joked. “I’ll remember that.”
“No, just the girl folding. I’d pair up every last stray sock for the rest of my life, if that’s what she wanted,” he declared.
She knew full well that he wasn’t volunteering for laundry duty and that he would do whatever it took to make her happy. That was Colton Sparks, genuine to a fault, and a heart with more love to give than any one person deserved. Truth be told, she would do whatever it took to make him happy and keep him forever. Even face her past.
Colton left Meg to finish packing and prepare snacks for Jax. She had brought what they needed from her house, for the day to day, over the last several weeks. She hadn’t brought a suitcase that was large enough for three, however, in the many trips and heaping loads of “stuff.” Being alone his whole adult life, he only had a small carry on size, enough room for clean underwear…typical guy.
On his way to pick up the little guy from Sam and Dawson’s, he offered to grab her large suitcase from the office closet at her house. When he climbed the steps, he noticed something wedged between the screen door and front door. He stopped and looked around briefly before continuing to the door. He grabbed it before it fell to the ground when he opened the screen door. It was a newspaper, the Community and Lifestyle section, folded in fourths.
He looked around once more – still nothing – nobody was around. Not a thing out of place otherwise, even though someone had clearly been there. An eerie sensation crept up his neck, leaving him with hair-raising goose bumps down his arms. There were eyes on him. He could feel it, but where?
They were surrounded by forest. The next house was a good distance beyond Meg’s. He moved inside, out of sight, and gave this random section of paper a closer look. It was the New York Times. Where would that have come from clear out here? Furthermore, the date was from nearly eighteen months prior, almost to the day.
Someone had left Megan an old paper from New York. Everyone in town knew she was staying with him and where her shop was, so why leave it here, like this, anonymously? He scanned the few pages, more than once. Nothing stood out, but there was clearly a message here, or why leave it? He could ask Megan, but she was finally starting to settle and wasn’t as jumpy as she had been until last night.
She thought she saw a man watching her, but nobody else saw him. They thought she was just flashing back to the night a man was hit in front of her shop. A man who had died and had yet to be claimed, identified or match a missing person report, country wide. That chill reared its ugly head again. There were clues all around him as he stood in her house. He just needed to find them and hope she still trusted him later.
She wasn’t telling him what he needed to know, and he had a sickening feeling whatever haunted her from her past was now hunting her from afar, lurking right outside. He needed to find it, and fast. After searching everywhere he could imagine, he had nothing. Back in her office, paper still in hand, he sat back at her desk without a single fucking clue.
He stared at the paper again, scanning the pictures a little closer. On the front page, he took a pause and looked closer at a picture of two women. One was looking awkwardly to her right, talking to someone. The other was looking directly at the photographer with a well-practiced smile.
They appeared to be at some sort of event, something elaborate, given the attire. The headline read, “Local Socialites, Killed in Fatal Car Accident.”
The opening statement read, “Prescott sister, and a minor child, killed in a tragic accident last Tuesday evening when an unidentified driver lost control and ran the vehicle off the road.”
He hesitated, looking at the picture again. The woman looking back at him was somewhat familiar—who was Lydia Prescott and her sister, Trinity. What did this have to do with Megan? He looked up, staring at the large cork board that rested on the wall above her desk, lost in thought. He was trying to piece it all together, but at a loss, he was clearly missing a piece. Was it this article that she was supposed to see? The rest of the articles were related to local park dedications, a golf tournament fundraiser, and the like. Or, had he missed the mark completely?
He stood to leave, determined to figure this out when they returned from their trip, when a piece of paper on the cork board caught his attention. There was a post-it note with Jax’s pediatrician’s number covering the note below. Peeking from the side of the post-it, he read “O’Reilly
.”
He removed the post it to reveal Declan O’Reilly
followed by a phone number.
Declan O’Reilly? As in, Carigan’s brother, Declan O’Reilly? How would Meg know Declan, and why would she have his number? She didn’t know Carigan until moving here, and Dec hadn’t been home in years.
Nobody knew what he did, really, including Carigan. Blake knew him well – he knew all five of the O’Reilly brothers – Dec particularly well, which suggested that Dec was from a similar background. Top secret, probably military…the kind you don’t talk about and doesn’t show up on any government paperwork, and completely badass scary.
Colton grabbed the paper from the board. He had another stop to make.