The Sinner - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,51

stop the occasional nightmare that woke me shaking and screaming in the night.

“I’m working on it,” I finally answered.

“Look, I know I haven’t been an ideal father—”

I snorted.

“But I care about you, I always have. I’m glad you’re putting it behind you.”

My heart flexed and stuttered. I couldn’t argue. For all my father’s many faults, not caring about me was not one of them. Joel wouldn’t win any father of the year awards, but he’d been there. At least there had been Rachmaninoff and card games and dinners and warm beds.

“I know, Dad,” I said, my voice gruff.

“Good. Then tell me, when I’m out, where are you going to be?”

“I think,” I said, feeling the words roll up from my gut like stones, filling my mouth until I had to spit them out. “I think I have to go back to St. Louis to tie up some loose ends.”

There was a commotion on Joel’s side of the line. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like Little Adam got some bad news from his wife. They’re going to clear us out of here, son.”

“Dad,” I said. “Is everything okay, though? That Richard visit—was there something wrong? Something I should know?”

Joel took another long drag from his cigarette and I waited, nervous for some reason.

“Don’t worry about it, Matt,” Joel said. “It was nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Talk to you in a few days,” I said and hung up.

I couldn’t fix the mess I’d made here with Savannah, I couldn’t fix my father’s crime—the only thing I could fix was my own life.

And it was time I did it.

Before I curbed the impulse, I dialed my office number. It was late on Sunday so I left a message that Erica would get in the morning. If she was still going in.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I owe you. I owe you so much, Erica.” I did some quick math, figured out how many days work on the courtyard I still had.

“I’ll be back next Monday,” I said. “I promise. I know that might not mean much right now, and if you want to leave I don’t blame you, but I will be back in town in a week to clear things up.”

I hung up, wondering if I’d done the right thing. Stepping back into the land of the living was not something I could undo.

Giving myself a deadline to leave the Manor and Savannah was something I could not undo. I’d have to leave on Sunday to be in St. Louis on Monday.

Which gave me seven days.

Carter’s car drove away, spitting gravel as it went. I turned and there was Savannah, Katie scowling at her side.

Savannah’s eyes searched my face, just as I searched hers, trying to read her emotions on her skin.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, and I wished there was something I could do. Something that would help.

Then she stepped up against me, her body flush to mine and her arms slid around my back, her fingers lighting fires through my shirt, holding me close. Tight.

Breath left my body in a gust and my hands trailed up her back, to her shoulders, feeling the skin and muscle of her arms and neck. So strong, this woman.

I pressed my cheek to the top of her head, getting drunk on the smell of flowers and dried sweat in her hair.

Electricity fired through my body and I tried to ignore it.

Ignore the snarling desire for more of her.

It was only a hug. Comfort.

Where I least expected it and wanted it most.

Seven days.

SAVANNAH

I’m excellent with mistakes. Like a real savant. And I think it’s because I can compartmentalize about as well as anyone on the planet. So, at midnight when the house was silent, I just tucked away all the reasons why I shouldn’t go down to Matt. I tucked away the imagined pain I would feel when he left. I’d stopped caring that he’d lied to me. Mostly. Whatever was left of that, I put it away.

And instead I concentrated on what I’d felt when I hugged him today.

How much he needed to be touched. And held. And forgiven.

And the forgiveness I could not give him.

But that other stuff – yeah, I could give him that.

You could even say I owed him. And I might be the only O’Neill interested in paying my debts.

A rain was falling, a mist almost. And it broke the worst of the heat, making the house livable for the night. The porch