Page 149 of ICED
We hang up. I sit in stunned silence, phone in my lap, blanket bunched at my waist.
“He was there,” I whisper.
Owen’s arms are around me again, steady and sure. “He’s arrested.”
“He trashed it.”
“But he’s gone. He’s not walking around free anymore. You’re safe.”
My heart is hammering. I press my palm to my chest like I can quiet it with pressure. “He got inside. He was inour home.”
Owen’s voice is low. “Not your home anymore. Not where you live now.”
I exhale. My lungs are tight, my mind running wild. I want to cry. I want to scream. But instead, I find myself whispering, “Lila. I need to check on her.”
“She’s okay. Ollie’s just down the hall. She’s fine.”
I nod, even though nothing about this feels fine. Owen kisses my temple, gentle and firm. “Come on. Let’s go see her.”
We pad quietly down the hallway, past the soft snoring coming from the living room. Lila’s door is cracked open, and the nightlight casts a soft glow. She’s curled on her side, her bunny tucked beneath one arm, hair fanned across the pillow.
My girl. Safe. Unaware. I close the door softly, turn back into Owen’s arms.
“I can’t believe he did it,” I whisper. “I kept telling myself I was overreacting.”
“You weren’t.” Owen’s jaw is tight, his voice rough. “And I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you didn’t go back.”
My breath catches. “If we’d been there?—”
“You weren’t. You were here. With me. With Lila. With people who would do anything to protect you.”
I nod again, though I’m not sure I believe it yet.
We end up back in the kitchen, sitting at the table in the dark. Owen boils water. I sit at the bench, fingers laced tightly. When he slides a mug of tea in front of me, my hands are still shaking too badly to hold it.
He doesn’t push. He just sits. Waits. Offers his presence like a steady flame.
“I thought leaving would make me safer,” I say eventually.
“Maybe it would’ve. For a while.”
“But not forever.”
“No.”
I look over at him. His eyes are dark, tired. But steady.Grounded. “You’re not going to say I told you so?”
He offers a wry smile. “I don’t need to. You already know.”
We sit in silence for a long while. The heating hums. Somewhere in the living room, Ollie shifts, lets out a yawn and then we hear him move. He appears in the kitchen doorway with the throw that Lila gave him wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
“What’s going on?” His voice is sleep ravaged and rough.
“Jamie broke into the flat. Trashed the place.” Owen squeezes my hand as he fills Ollie on the phone call.
“Fucking idiot. The guy doesn’t know who he’s up against now.” Ollie’s fists clench in rage as he takes a seat next to us at the table. “You checked on Lila? She still asleep?”
“She’s oblivious, probably dreaming about bunnies and unicorns,” Owen stands to make Ollie a cup of tea.
