Heat Wave (39 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

My heart is lodged in my throat, my lungs have turned to stone. The only part of me that’s working are my eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to take him all in.

Because this can’t be what I’m seeing.

This can’t be him.

“Veronica,” he says and the sound of his voice, that beautiful, rich, accented voice, causes the rest of me to slowly come unglued.

He looks like he does in my dreams, the Logan I imagine whispering to me at night as I fall asleep, the Logan I cried over, wishing I could see him one more time in case my memories weren’t enough.

And they weren’t enough. Seeing him in the flesh makes me realize that my memories could never compare. Hair that remains dark and strong, thick, with the lightest amber highlights peppered through, no doubt from the sun, with just a hint of grey. His eyes that aren’t just brown, but mahogany and teak and the koa wood that the Hawaiians use, shiny and dark and rich. His mouth isn’t just full and wide, it twists crookedly even when he’s not smiling.

And he’s not smiling now. He’s staring at me with the same sort of pained awe that must be on my own face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My words feel so small, muffled by shock.

He stares at me, eyes searching, his chest rising as he breathes heavily. The hallway seems so stark and cold, too big for the both of us. I have to lean against the doorframe to stay upright, centered.

“I’ve come back for you,” he says, and I’m struck. By the strength in his voice, in the boldness of his statement. Struck by what this means. None of it makes any sense. To see him here in Chicago again feels like he’s been sucked into the wrong timeline. He should be strolling on the beach with a surfboard under his arm, driving around Hanalei with the top of his Jeep down, wind in his hair, coconut palms reflected in sunglasses.

“Do you want to invite him inside or what?” Claire says from behind me, her eyes shining as she looks between the two of us. “I’m going to bed. Just…if you don’t invite him in and sort your piles of shit out, you’re going to have one angry roommate on your hands come the morning.”

Then she turns and heads over to her room, closing the door behind her.

“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

I nod, not finding the words, and head back inside.

It’s even stranger to have him in my place. It was small before, it’s smaller now, his large frame taking up all the space. But that’s nothing new. He’s always been larger than life, not just in muscle and height, but in energy. I can feel him burning like the sun, drawn to him like the moon. He’s a force of nature.

I can’t sit down. I can’t do anything but stand in the middle of the room and fidget, my arms at my sides, fists opening and closing.

I can’t take my eyes off of him. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll disappear, back into my dream.

Because I have to be dreaming, right?

“Freckles…,” he says.

And it doesn’t matter what else comes out of his mouth. My nickname. I haven’t heard it in so long. It brings me back, hard and fast, to the life that was, the life where I was really me, the life I thrived in. Just hearing that, having Logan in my apartment, makes me realize that I was doing a piss-poor job of pretending to be happy, trying to move on. Who I am with him is who I am. Who I am in Kauai is who I am. I’ll never be able to pretend otherwise.

The pressure builds behind my eyes, warmth in my nose. Before I can stop it, the tears are spilling over and I’m gasping for breath.

And unlike every time I’ve cried over the last six months, wishing he was here to take it all away, he is here.

He comes right to me and envelopes me in his arm, holding me tight, my head pressed against his chest. He smells like love. He feels like a soul. He holds me tighter, even though I can barely breathe through my sobs, because he knows it makes me feel safe, that he’ll never let me go.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, running his palm over my hair, kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay. We’re going to fix this.”

I cry for a long time like this, letting everything out and he takes it in. He doesn’t say anything other than that he’s here and we’ll fix this and he’s not going anywhere. His words only make me break down more, the beauty in them, their truth.

But eventually I have to ask, I have to know.

I pull back and stare at him through raw eyes. “How can you still want me? How can you not hate me?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile, even though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Because I never believed a word you’d said.”

“The note…”

“The note meant nothing. Giving the ring back meant nothing. I knew those weren’t actions. I know you Veronica, and I know your heart. I know what you’re about and none of that was true. You’re not that good of a liar and I can always see your truth. That’s why I came after you, to the airport. I wasn’t about to let you fly away.”

“But you did,” I say quietly.

“I did,” he says, nodding. He sighs. “I had to. Not just the security, though fuck them. Because I saw in your eyes what I needed to see. It wasn’t confirmation of the note. It was confirmation that you still loved me. That this was tearing you apart like it was tearing me. And that I had to trust you.”

“That’s it? You just…trusted me?”

“I’ve always trusted you. I knew that whatever you were doing, there was a reason for it. That you still loved me and you wouldn’t do something that drastic, that crazy, unless you had to. Unless it was against your will.”

“It was my parents.”

“I know. I knew it before Charlie told me.”

“Charlie told you?” I exclaim. Again, something he never mentioned when I was emailing him.

“Right away,” he says. “He was the one who told me you’d left. It was only later that I noticed you’d broken his nose. He confessed pretty quickly. If it weren’t for you, I would have done some damage to him myself. But you know Charlie didn’t really know what he was doing. And he’s not really the point of any of this. But I knew.”

“Why didn’t…” I begin, then stop myself.

“Why didn’t I come after you? Talk to you? I tried, you wouldn’t have any of it. I wasn’t calling to try and change your mind, I wanted you to know that I understood.”

I shut my eyes. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Because I love you,” he says, running his thumb over my lip, my cheek. “I love you more than ever.”

“But I was horrible. I ran away. I should have known you’d understand.”

“Yeah, you should have known. And it was horrible. And you left me a broken man, Ron. That wasn’t easy to get around.” He breathes in deeply. “But it was a bit easier because I knew the truth. I knew it wasn’t because you didn’t love me that you left, but because you loved me that much. I knew your reasons. I could never fault you for them. If you had told me what was happening, we would have put the marriage on hold while we figured stuff out. We would have done it together.”

“I didn’t know…”

“You should have known,” he says quickly. “But like I said, I understand. I know what your parents are like. They were my bloody in-laws for long enough, I’m adept at dealing with them. I knew that you felt guilt over Juliet still, that you wanted to do the right thing by me and that leaving was the best option for everyone. I know that’s what you believed. But it doesn’t matter anymore.” He pauses, eyes searching and searching and searching me. “Freckles, I’m taking you home.”

Oh, my heart. Blooming, growing, perfumed like a flower.

So fucking fragile.

“I can’t go,” I say and I can’t even believe those words are leaving my mouth. “I can’t go. My life is here now. I have a job. Two of them. Claire needs me. I…” The thought of Arch flashes through my head. He doesn’t even fucking count.

“Your life was never here,” he says gruffly, hand at my jaw. “Ever. Your life belongs with me.” He kisses me and if I didn’t get a shock before, I’m getting it now. These lips, his lips flush on mine, the warmth of his mouth, brings me back to life. It’s a meteor slamming deep inside me, a shake-up, a change.

I don’t ever want him to stop.

Ever.

His fingers lost in my hair, making me whimper against his mouth, his arm around my waist, holding me in place, the same feeling as if he’s about to fly off somewhere, like a superhero, bring me with him.

But I can’t. He’s right, what I have here in Chicago is false, like the façade of an old-west town. It isn’t a real life and it was never really mine. It was something I put on to protect myself from a cold, new land. Claire will understand.

It doesn’t change
why
I left in the first place though, it doesn’t change any of that.

“I can’t,” I tell him, breaking our kiss, our mouths wet and breath heavy as we stare at each other. “They’ll never change their minds.”

“I don’t give a bloody fuck if they don’t change their minds,” he says, voice booming. It makes my nerves stand on end. “I love you. You’re going to be my wife, I don’t care what happens to me, what the world says is right or wrong, what other people think. You are my world and that’s the only world that matters.”

“I can’t watch them destroy what you’ve worked so hard for!” I cry out.

“They won’t,” he says. “They won’t.”

“Did you not hear me? They will! They’ll never go for this, they’ll never understand.”

He raises his chin, staring down at me. “Veronica. I’m old. I know a thing or two about how to deal with people and make a bad situation better. Some things take time and planning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What did you think I’ve been doing for the last six months,” he asks, “sitting around on my ass, surfing with Charlie, picking my nose?”

“Well, no, but—”

“I’ve been saving money, I’ve been switching things around in my portfolio, talking to banks, I’ve been working with a goal in mind. A goal that should have always been on my mind, but I got lazy and complacent with Juliet. That isn’t the case now.”

I stare at him blankly.

“As of last week, I own one-hundred-percent of Moonwater.”

Still staring at him blankly. Not of this computes. Wires in my brain are fried.

“What?”

“I contacted your father. I bought him out.”

“My father?” I repeat. “He just…”

“He’s more reasonable, as you know. And technically all of your parents’ money in the hotel was his money, from his offshore account, unrelated to your mother.”

“Why would my father have an offshore account for himself and not her?”

Logan shrugs, frowning with annoyance. “Who knows. Maybe for tax purposes, maybe as a contingency fund if shit hits the fan. Maybe he’s smartening up and leaving her. Who knows, but it doesn’t really matter because have you heard a bloody thing I’ve just said?”

“I have I just…” I can’t believe it. That’s what it is.

Logan grabs my hand, squeezing it. “It’s a lot to take in, but while you’ve been thinking I’m over in Kauai and forgetting about you, I’ve been working my ass off in order to bring you back. And I have. There is nothing to fear anymore, not for you, not for me. There isn’t a single tie between your parents and I anymore. There’s nothing but ocean.” He sighs and tilts his head, studying me with warm eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Ron. From this moment on, it’s going to be okay.”

It still takes time for it all to sink in.

Freedom.

So much freedom.

Logan owns Moonwater. He owns his pride and joy. He did it to save himself, to save me. There’s no one that can stop us, no one to hold anything over our heads.

Except my parents. But their threats have no meaning anymore.

I wonder if that was what my dad wanted to talk to me in private about. It has to be. He was going to tell me that Moonwater now belonged to Logan.

And then what?

“Did my dad know you were coming here?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t say anything about that. But I think he knows. Maybe not right away, but he knew why I bought them out. He knew I did it for you. And I think he knew that there wasn’t anything that would stand in my way until you were standing by my side.”

God. As if my heart couldn’t grow any bigger, it’s pressing against my chest, warm and glowing.

He did it for me.

“And it was worth it and then some,” Logan says. “As long as you come back with me.” He reaches into the pocket of his dark jeans and pulls out my ring. The sight of it floors me. “As long as you wear this again.” He pauses. “Do you want me to propose again? Because I thought the first time was pretty hard to beat.”

I laugh. Small at first, then a big belly laugh that rolls out of me. He’s laughing too, eyes crinkling in joy as he slides the ring on my left hand.

“Please, Veronica Locke,” he says, clearing his throat, the graveness coming back into his features. “Agree to…agree to marry me. Again.” He sighs, shaking his head. “See, that was bloody awful. Ruined it.”