His phone dinged again. He was looking at it when he said, “There’s great cell reception here. How’d you manage that? And Wi-Fi? Whoa. Full signal.”
I caught his arms and shook them. “Liam. This is important. People here don’t know where I came from or what I did. They don’t know that Edward is my ex-husband. They don’t know about Lily or the accident or my conviction. They don’t have a clue who Mackenzie Cooper is. I want it to stay that way. You need to keep your mouth shut.”
He twisted a lock at his lips too quickly for my peace of mind.
“Swear it, Liam,” I ordered. “I’ve worked hard keeping the past out of my life here, but if you let it in, I’ll leave—just move away and start over somewhere else. I can do it,” I warned. “Edward had gall buying the Inn and you have gall signing on with him, so if word of the past gets out, it’ll be on your shoulders. I’m Maggie Reid. Mackenzie Cooper doesn’t exist anymore.” I didn’t like the look on my brother’s face. “What?”
He held up his phone for me to see the screen. “Good luck with that.”
11
I’m almost there, read the text, and at the top of the screen, Edward Cooper.
The words positively shouted at me.
I shouted back, “I don’t want him here.”
“He’s been trying to reach you,” Liam said.
“How do you know?” I asked, though I knew the answer. Guilt was written all over my brother’s freckled face.
“He knows I’m here, so he texted me. He said you’re not answering your phone and asked if I knew where you were.”
Control was a major issue in my life. I had lost it along with my phone signal on that country road shrouded with fall leaves, had certainly been without it when that van rammed us and sent us into a flying roll. I hadn’t consciously called for help; my high-tech SUV had done that. Control? Control? In my frantic effort to free myself from the car so that I could get to my baby? In the harrowing sound of police sirens and fire truck hoots, the glare of ambulance lights, the milling of responders keeping me from her? In the legal doings afterward? Control? Ze-ro.
Slowly, slowly I had returned it to my life. This, now, just wasn’t fair.
I tried to remain coherent against a rising anger, though I shook with the effort. “You had no right, Liam. I do what I want when I want, and if I don’t want to return a text, that’s my choice. This is my house, and I don’t want Edward here. You can tell him that when he comes.”
“What’s meant to happen happens. It’s God’s plan.”
“Don’t quote Mom!” I yelled, shooting to my feet. Then I just stood there, too bewildered to know what to do next until I actually heard the thump of boots on the porch. That got me going.
I had spun toward the stairs when Liam asked a disappointed, “Is that all you’re eating? Didn’t you like it?”
“Sorry,” I said without looking back. “Lost my appetite.”
* * *
I took a very long shower. Each time I thought I was done, I decided my body needed just a little more heat. Only when the water cooled to the dark side of tepid did I turn it off. I took my time toweling dry, blew my hair a little, brushed my teeth. My mug shot was there on the inside of the medicine chest—my old nemesis, never far—but I kept my mind on taking care of myself and getting out of the house.
It was a blend of escapism, defiance, and self-pity. It was also desperation. I wanted Edward gone by the time I was dressed.
When I left the bathroom, I heard voices down below. Since I wasn’t dressed yet, I told myself that there was still time for him to leave.
Closing the bedroom door, I thumbed up Adele loud enough to drown out my thoughts. With my eyes out the window on the woods and my back to the door, I sat on the bed, pulled on leggings, a sweater, and heavy socks. Then I stood, turned, and gasped. Edward’s back was closing the door—the door to my bedroom.
Every bit of the anger I had tamped down in the shower returned. “Leave,” I said with what I thought was commendable composure. When he didn’t budge, I said it louder, and when he continued to stare, I reached