The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (23 page)

Owen moved out of the
doorway and held the door. Stacie obliged his silent invitation and stepped into his condo.

“Have a seat,” he said, following her inside.

Stacie sat on the edge of the couch. Owen sat opposite her, using the file safe as a chair. Interesting tactic, Stacie thought as she realized his posture was guarded, not relaxed, just like the expression on his face.

The intimidation rolled off him like gale-force winds, causing her fingers to fidget and her heart to pound at a hundred miles an hour. She deserved the coldness, so bit back the urge to plead with him for forgiveness. Instead, she looked down at her hands and hoped with all her heart that she hadn’t destroyed any chance she had with him.

“You said you’re ready to talk. So talk,” Owen said, his tone stern and demanding.

Yep, that’s what she’d said. She had been too, but now she was a little less sure. It was ridiculous, the secrets. She’d toyed with a man’s heart for what? So she could keep a little control in her life. A lot of good it did her. She hadn’t felt in control since that night on the pier. Trapped between Owen and Greg, the man she cared about and the man she’d left behind, she’d lost complete control.

Everything she’d done since then was dictated by the actions of these two men. But the truth was, since she’d met Owen, her actions had been dictated by him. Not directly, but because of the way she felt about him. Because of the need he ignited.

She couldn’t avoid him forever. She didn’t want to. When she looked up from her hands, his gaze was so cold. There was hurt in his eyes. She’d put that there. “I was engaged to Greg,” she started. “Was, Owen. Not anymore.”

She waited for some sort of response, hoping some of that hurt would fade, but he just stared at her like the disciplined soldier he had probably been in the army. So she continued, because after all, it was still her turn to talk.

“We had been together since high school. Ten years. We went to college together. We worked at the same school, the school that we graduated from. I was an English teacher. He’s a computer technology teacher. We moved in together after college, got engaged a few years ago. The wedding was planned for December.”

Logistics, Stacie thought. There were other facts she needed to share. “I haven’t loved him for a long time, but I was expected to marry him and I’ve always been the kind of person who did what I was expected to do.” She paused, and looked back down at her hands. She wanted to avoid talking about the accident, so she shifted to her family.

“I have an older brother, Keith, and a younger sister, Nichole. Keith was the star athlete, top student, the apple of my parent’s eye. He’s a lawyer now. Nichole was the wild child. Still is. She’s in and out of rehab pretty consistently. Can’t keep a job. I’ve always been in the middle, not really excelling at anything, but not failing either. My mother had expectations for me, but most of the time I didn’t live up to them.”

Stacie didn’t like being the center of attention. It was frustrating being the middle child. If she acted out, she was told not to act like her sister. If she got a B in math, she was told to study harder like her brother.

“Greg was a lot like my brother, star athlete, top student. As far as my parents were concerned, he was perfect for me. I think he was perfect for them.” She looked back up at him. “See, boring.”

Owen sat still, his expression unchanged. Emotionless. It sent a shiver down Stacie’s spine. “So what changed?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You left. You didn’t do what was expected of you. What changed?”

Stacie sighed again. “My friend Audrey was killed in a car accident.”

She hoped that was enough, but as Owen sat there with that blank expression on his face, she knew she was going to have to talk about it. The silence hung like a cold front between them until finally Owen prompted her for more. “What happened?”

“She hit a moose. Apparently, the airbags didn’t deploy. The car was small, the moose was huge. Audrey was killed on impact. After her memorial service, I decided to stop being what everyone expected and pursue my dream. I was still on medical leave. One day, I decided it was time to go. Jenny had given me an open invitation a couple years ago, so I came here.”

“In a blue Jeep Grand Cherokee,” Owen said.

Stacie chuckled. “Yeah, in a Blue Jeep Grand Cherokee.”

Owen was watching her, as if he knew there was more.

“So,” she said playfully, half smiling, “your turn.”

“Tell me about the accident,” he demanded.

Stacie dropped her head. She hated talking about the accident. “Audrey hit a moose. She was killed on impact.”

Owen stood up and walked over to the dining table. He picked up a manila envelope and a stack of folders and walked back to the couch. He handed the envelope to Stacie. “You’re not telling me the part about you being in the car.”

Stacie looked in the envelope. It held the legal papers that Audrey’s parents had wanted her to sign.

“You looked through these papers?”

“I followed your lead.” He dropped two file folders on the table in front of her. One had a tab that read Marriage Certificates/Divorce Papers, the other Birth Certificates.

Stacie was embarrassed about snooping through his papers. She hadn’t intended to be confrontational about what she’d discovered, but in the heat of the moment, when she was angry with Greg, and angry with herself for all the self-doubt, the words, the mean, spiteful accusations, just came pouring out. Talk about losing control.

There were consequences to that kind of reaction, consequences to all of the actions she had taken since the accident. Why she thought there wouldn’t be was a mystery, a ridiculous, blind hope.

“How did you get these?” she asked, hoping to avoid the consequences even longer.

“Greg had them. He wanted me to give them to you.”

Stacie browsed through the legal documents. Peter and Carol Farr were filing a lawsuit against the car company for the wrongful death of their daughter Audrey, killed on impact when her car hit a moose and the airbags failed to deploy. Passenger, Annastasia Nightingale suffered head injuries, also as a result of the passenger side airbag failing to deploy.

There was a letter to Stacie from Audrey’s parents, asking her to complete the papers, pleading with her to help them do this in memory of Audrey, and to prevent it from happening to someone else.

“Tell me about the accident,” Owen said again after Stacie read the letter from Audrey’s parents.

“I told you about the accident.” Stacie couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face.

“You didn’t tell me what happened to you,” Owen said.

“You read the papers. You know what happened to me.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Stacie took a deep breath, trying to push the tears back. Crying did nothing to change the circumstances, or the consequences. What she could use, though, was a shot of courage. Stacie looked toward the cabinets in Owen’s kitchen, wondering if he kept a stash of Jägermeister for such occasions. Then she looked toward the door, debating a quick exit.

“I’m not going to let you walk away this time,” Owen said.

Stacie let her breath out on a long sigh. Jäger or no Jäger, she was going to have to tell him something. It might as well be the truth.

“I don’t remember the accident,” Stacie confessed.

She had not admitted this to anyone. Riddled with guilt following the accident, she simply told people she didn’t want to talk about it. The doctor had talked to her about survivor’s guilt, had even recommended a good psychiatrist who specialized in that area, but Stacie couldn’t bring herself to go. Greg insisted she stay home to rest and recover. He said a shrink would just force her to relive the trauma over and over and that wasn’t the best thing for her. Like he knew what was best for her.

“I don’t remember anything from that day until I woke up in the hospital. Apparently, I was conscious and sitting on the ground next to the car when a passerby found us and called 911. I don’t remember that. I have a vague recollection of being wheeled off on a stretcher and seeing Audrey hunched over the steering wheel, but I’m not sure if that’s an actual memory or a dream. I cut my head open on the dashboard and I suffered a concussion.” Stacie breathed in deeply through her nose and wiped the tears with the back of her hand

“On the pier, as I was walking up to you, I heard Greg say the accident changed you. Tell me.”

A small smile crept across Stacie’s face. Thinking about Audrey, when she was alive, always made Stacie smile. “Besides Jenny, Audrey was the only person who encouraged me to pursue my dreams. It’s a bit of a paradox, actually. She always used to say that you shouldn’t wait to go after your dreams because tomorrow you could be hit by a bus. I guess hitting a moose isn’t much different. I had been unhappy for a long time. Losing Audrey was enlightening. Tragic, but enlightening all the same. I finally realized she was right. Life is short. I didn’t want to be unhappy anymore. So here I am, pursuing my dreams.”

“And having post-traumatic stress,” Owen stated.

“What? No. No, I’m not.”

“I was deployed to Iraq once and to Afghanistan twice while I was in the army. My unit went through a lot. I was in computer security, so I spent most of my time in a secured building. Some of my friends were guys who went on regular patrols. They saw a lot of bad stuff. Car bombings, homes succumbing to missile fire and grenades. They held innocent civilians, children, who were wounded or had been killed. They watched their friends, their brothers, die. Many of them were never the same. Post-traumatic stress isn’t something to toy with.”

He reached a hand across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s not something to ignore. It won’t just go away. Not with ice packs. Not with sex.”

Stacie gave Owen a passive smile. She didn’t have post-traumatic stress. It had been two months since the accident. She was struggling with her paintings and feeling insecure about her future. The headaches were from tension. That’s what was causing the nightmares. She was sure of it. There was no doubt in her mind. Post-traumatic stress was something soldiers experienced. Maybe even police officers. Definitely not teachers.

~~~

Owen understood now why Stacie didn’t want to share her story. Her bravery was admirable, leaving everything she knew behind to pursue her dreams in a strange city. More than that, embracing the loss of her friend in order to find her own happiness, that took more courage than she probably realized.

He pushed himself off the make-shift chair and pulled Stacie into his arms, holding her tight because he thought that right now, she needed that more than anything. Owen brushed away the tears and kissed her cheek, wishing he could do more to help ease the pain of losing her friend and dealing with the post-traumatic stress. She may not be willing to admit it, but she was definitely suffering from it.

Even though it was his move, Owen didn’t know how to play it. He’d been deceived by women before. Granted, Stacie was different, but she too had deliberately deceived him and nothing in her story justified that. He wasn’t sure he was ready to forgive her, no matter how trivial it seemed. Holding her in his arms felt right, though, more right than anything ever had in his life. He’d vowed to love a woman before, twice. Neither of those promises felt as right as being with Stacie.

He was reluctant to let her go, but the clock read 7:00. His sister was arriving on the 7:42 flight from Baton Rouge.  They had decided he wouldn’t park and would just pick her up outside the arrivals area, and he needed to get going.

“I’ve got someplace to be,” he said. “And I need some time.”

Stacie nodded and got up. When she reached the door, she turned to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I just, I, I’m just sorry, Owen.”

Owen couldn’t say anything. He wanted to kiss her, take her into his arms and forget all the shit that had happened. He couldn’t. He was still battered and broken from Daphne and Kristina. He needed to get a little perspective before he let Stacie own his heart.

It killed him to open the door and watch her walk out. Across the hall, to her condo. It killed him a little more to close his door as she started to turn around.

~~~

An hour later, Owen and his sister Morgan walked into the pub on Fifth Avenue to have dinner and a couple of drinks and to catch up. It had been a year since they’d seen each other and even though they talked every couple of weeks, it was so good to see her.

Morgan was one week shy of being a year younger than Owen. Growing up, they were referred to as the twins. Even now, looking at her across the table, Owen felt like he was looking into a mirror. Well, if his features were more feminine, anyway.

Morgan devoured a grilled chicken salad and a beer while Owen poked at his steak tips and hardly touched his Coke.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he responded, finally stabbing a tip with his fork and taking a bite.

“Liar.” Morgan said. “You may as well tell me now because you know how annoying I can be until I get my way.”

That was an understatement. Owen always let his little sister get her way. She deserved it after all the abuse they’d taken from their drunk father growing up. But, he wasn’t ready to tell her about Stacie, especially given the current circumstances. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” Owen said, shaking his head.