Page 65 of Tempting Devil
I heaved my exhausted body out of the driver’s seat of my SUV and stumbled up the front steps of my townhouse late Saturday afternoon, the weight of the past week heavy on my shoulders.
They say the truth will set you free.
In my case, the truth felt like a burden.
Ever since Liam all but admitted to shooting Samuel, I couldn’t focus on anything else. My mind constantly wandered back to our years-long friendship, replaying certain moments through a new lens.
A more jaded lens.
And with every resurfaced memory, I wanted to kick myself for not seeing the warning signs that had been so obvious. If only I hadn’t allowed the guilt I felt for the role my sperm donor played in his mother’s death to cloud my rationale, maybe I would have seen it all sooner. Maybe I could have prevented what happened to Samuel.
The only time I’d felt any sort of peace had been when I was out on the ocean or running along the beach. Even though we hadn’t spoken since I told him I believed him, Gideon continued to show up and sit at his usual table at The Daily Grind every day.
I’d begun to crave the early morning hours because I knew I’d see him, despite the confusion and turmoil plaguing me.
If I could just get through the night, I’d find some peace in the morning.
I punched my code into the door and let myself into my house, wishing I hadn’t promised Melanie I’d drive up to LA to spend the weekend with her after today’s game. So much had happened since the last time I saw her, and I didn’t know how to explain it all.
One thing was certain. It wasn’t a conversation we could have over the phone. Which was why I’d offered to drive up to see her.
Now, it was the last thing I wanted to do.
Tossing my keys onto the entryway table, I was surprised Ollie wasn’t here to greet me, especially since it was dinnertime.
“Ollie. Come on, pal. You hungry? You need to eat before we hit the road.”
I stepped into the kitchen and scooped some of his kibble into his bowl.
But even after hearing the telltale sound of his food being poured, he didn’t come out from one of his many napping spots.
“Ol?” I called out again, my worry increasing by the minute.
I headed toward my office, since that was where he tended to sleep during the day. When I didn’t find him there, I made my way up to his other favorite napping spot — my bedroom.
The instant I crossed the threshold, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
Ollie lay on the floor beside his bed, as if he’d fallen off. His chest rose and fell in a rapid pattern, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
“Ollie?” I scrambled toward him, instinctively running my hand along his side. His heart raced out of control, each inhale a struggle. “What’s wrong, pal?”
But he didn’t respond or acknowledge me. Instead, he stared straight ahead, confused and disoriented.
Panic seized me, and I bolted downstairs to grab my phone, calling the only person I could think of.
“Imogene,” Gideon answered as I returned to Ollie and knelt in front of him, tears streaming down my face.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.
“Imogene?” he repeated, his concern evident. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ollie,” I finally managed to choke out.
“Ollie?” His voice cracked on his name.
I knew this man better than most people. Or, I knew Samuel better than most people.
I never heard this level of raw fear in his voice before.