Page 25 of Into These Eyes
That delicious scent of Jasmine and spring reaches me as it fills the caravan, spiralling me back to my meeting with her six months ago. Awakening that feeling of coming alive after being dead inside for so long.
Then her gaze is on me, taking in my bare feet, khaki shorts, red t-shirt, my throat, my lips, and finally my eyes. She’s never looked at me the way she is now, and this new look has all sorts of nerves jolting through my body and mind.
Worse still, I catch a tremble in her chin. Is she about to cry?
I clear my throat. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes quickly drop to my chest. “No … yes … actually, I have no idea.”
I'm baffled by her response. She’s always come across as self-assured, not this lost, bewildered woman before me. What can she possibly be here to say that has her so disconcerted?
“Would you like to take a seat?”
She quickly shakes her head, her chest expanding, then contracting before her eyes sweep up to mine.
“I know you’re innocent,” she says softly.
I wait for her to correct herself. Clearly, that came out wrong. But all she does is watch me.
“I’m sorry, Miss Evans. I’m not sure I understand—”
“I found out a few hours ago,” she says, a noticeable quaver in her voice. “You’re innocent.”
I understand her words, but every ounce of my being rejects them. Continuing to stare at her, I wait for a punch line that’ll allow me to make sense of what she’s doing here.
“Say something,” she says.
“Miss Evans, I don’t know—”
“Please stop calling me that.” She takes a step toward the table. I don’t miss her slight wobble as she places a hand on the surface to steady herself. Then she slides onto the bench seat, puts her handbag aside and releases a long breath. “I think I do need to take that seat after all.”
She places her palms on the table in what I presume is an effort to keep them from shaking. Something earth shattering’s happened to her, and it has something to do with me.
As I take a seat across from her, the brush of my bare knees against hers sends a jolt of electricity straight to my dick.Christ. The first woman I’ve touched in sixteen years and it’s Jamie Evans. Repositioning myself, I break the contact. I need to get it to-fucking-gether.
“Miss— Jamie. As of a minute ago, there were only two people on this planet who believed in my innocence. Me, and the man I shared a cell with for fifteen years. Explain to me why youdeserve a membership to our exclusive club,” I say with a small quirk of my lips.
What the hell’s wrong with me? Why the fuck am I making jokes? This is serious.Only, more than anything else in this moment, I want to make the incredibly sad woman across from me smile.
She doesn’t.
“I don’t just believe you’re innocent. I know it to be a fact.”
Refusing to get my hopes up, I sigh. “Okay. Why? How?”
There’s that tremble in her chin again, and this time, tears pool in her eyes. I watch as she blinks fast, getting them under control before they can fall.
“I just heard a dying declaration.” She takes a deep breath and stares at her hands. “He said he killed my mother.”
The shock of her words rock me to the core. This time, there’s no resistance, no disbelief. Someone confessed. “And you believe this person because?”
“Because he’s my father …wasmy father.”
I fuckingknewit.
Her eyes meet mine again. We sit like that for a long moment, letting the weight of her words hang between us. And then it clicks.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “Did your father die?Today?”
