Page 32 of Hideaway Whirlwind
“The name you have tattooed on your leg—your wife’s name,” she says with a nod as if she has the answer to anunspoken question.
“We were about to pull into the bar’s parking lot when one of the town drunks got behind the wheel and lost control of his truck. He was going so fast that when he T-boned her side of our car, it flipped. Meredith was killed on impact. Both vehicles totaled.”
Birdie’s shoulders cave in, and she lifts her hand toward my cheek, but tucks it back against her chest. “All those scars? They’re from the accident?”
“Some. Not all.”
“What happened?”
“The drunk got out of his truck, took one look at me, and ran,” I say, my voice turning hard, my index finger curling over a phantom trigger.
“And…?” she asks with reservation, as if she doesn’t really want to know.
“And I shot him.” Memories of Curtis’s blood splattering the pavement assault me. “He’d been my friend in high school, and everyone knew he had a drinking problem. He was waiting for a bed to open up at a rehab. Wanted to turn his life around. I never gave him the chance. He was dead before his head hit the ground.”
Birdie bites her lip, then asks, “But wouldn’t that be…be a crime of passion?”
“That’s what my lawyer argued, and maybe it would have worked, but…” I take a long, deep breath as I try to cut through the memories of what it felt like to kill the man who stole my wife’s life and our future together. “I shot him in the back when he was running away.”
Birdie crosses her arms over her chest and stomach. “The skull on your back…”
“That’s where I shot him. It’s his skull. The horror I inflicted.”
More curious than indignant, she asks, “Why aren’t you still in prison? You should have been sentenced to life or…or—”
“Yeah.” It seems neither of us can bear to saythe death penalty, which I deserved. With shame corroding my insides, I tell her, “The judge was a friend of Meredith’s grandparents. Went easy on me when he shouldn’t have. I was only sentenced to ten years in prison.” I clear my throat. “But my brother pulled some strings to get me out early.”
“What about the raven?”
“A symbol of death.” I grip Birdie’s naked hips, pulling her closer, nudging her arms out of the way so I can kiss her stomach. “But also new life.”
“No. No, this is crazy!”
“Fate,” I argue.
“It wasn’t fate that made you a murderer or killed your wife!” she yells, trying to dig her blunt talons into my shoulders to push me away.
“You’re right, it wasn’t.” I kiss her from hip to hip, smellingmeon her skin. She’s mine, just as I am hers. “But fate stepped in when you needed me and brought me to you.”
“Why me?” she asks as I stroke her naked back. “Why not your wife?”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “I don’t have an answer for that.”
“Yet you still believe in fate. In this hypothetical whirlwind?”
“I do, Birdie.” I roll my eyes up to hers, pleading with her to understand. “It’s real. Tell me—”
Chapter 15
Teagan
Fateintervenes when Sydney calls out for me, and Elliott and I hurry to pull on our clothes. I run straight into my daughter in the hallway, and my stomach bottoms out that she should find me coming out of Elliott’s bedroom in the middle of the night.
“I’m hungry,” Sydney says, peering around me through the open door, then straining her neck to look up over my head. “Can I have a snack?”
Elliott grips my upper arms and nudges me out of the way. “I’ll get her something to eat.”
Sydney reaches for his hand when he steps around me, and together they head toward the kitchen.
