You're the One That I Want Page 8

  And apparently Owen was his greatest find. Casper certainly appeared smug, standing beside the bed. Same old Casper . . . except maybe taller than Owen remembered, wider shoulders, and something about him that seemed more confident. Less brash.

  It didn’t mean Casper wouldn’t finish what he’d started once Owen got back on his feet.

  “Mom and Dad sent you to find me?”

  “In a way.” He looked away, his mouth forming a grim line as if holding back some errant emotion. What—was big bro actually worried about him dying?

  That ignited all kinds of untamed emotions that Owen funneled into one. “Casper, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you chasing me down, trying to talk some sense into me, or whatever they want you to do.”

  “They just want to know . . .” Casper shook his head. “You’re a jerk.”

  “Right back at ya.”

  And then, strangely, Casper looked at the floor and let out a sigh. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

  That left Owen just a little undone. Especially when Casper ran one hand, quick, sharp, under his eye.

  No. He couldn’t really be—okay, so maybe Owen was a jerk, being too hard on his brother. After all, they had been close once upon a time.

  Once upon a very, very long time. Before Owen destroyed it all.

  “Casper—”

  His brother turned away. “Leave it. It’s just good you’re not dead.”

  Scotty put Owen’s water down. “Wow, you two are brothers. Sheesh, now I remember why I’m glad to be an only.” She turned to Owen. “This is the same Casper you couldn’t stop talking about? The one who taught you to play hockey—”

  “He didn’t teach me—”

  “Totally taught him everything he knows.”

  Owen glanced at Scotty, tried to put words into his gaze. Stop. Please stop talking, Scotty. Because he didn’t want Casper knowing how much he regretted just about everything that had happened between them.

  How he’d longed, as his life passed into the shadows, to go home.

  Not yet. Not until he figured out—“Really. How did you find me?”

  Casper had composed himself, and now he shrugged. “You made the news. In Seattle.”

  He wanted to chase that with another question—namely, what was Casper doing in Seattle?—but Scotty plunged in again.

  “There were reporters here this afternoon. I told them to get lost.”

  See, she was his kind of girl. Last thing he needed was an overzealous reporter getting wind of his identity and replaying his short, sad NHL career. If they hadn’t already . . .

  “Although—” she gave him a lopsided smile—“I would have liked to tell them how you dove into the ocean after me.”

  “Scotty. Shh. Let it be over,” Owen said quietly. “Please.”

  She met his eyes, and he took a moment to soak it in.

  They’d lived.

  But there was more, something swimming around the back of his mind. He fished back to the past, tried to push through the shadows and darkness to find solid ground.

  Sunshine. Heat on his face and golden light over the horizon.

  Voices and the whisper of her lips on his? “You saved me,” he said to Scotty. “Right?”

  “No more than you saved me,” she said. But he wanted to call her a liar because he knew he’d been dying, knew his body had filled with blood.

  “How did we—?”

  “The Coast Guard picked us up just in time. You had surgery for your punctured lung.” She angled a glance at Casper. “Thanks to your broken ribs. That you got when you saved my life.”

  “I think the ribs were from the wave. On the ship—”

  “And made worse when you pushed me into the raft, again saving my life.”

  Casper held up a hand. “Okay. I got it. He saved your life. Which, yes, I’m utterly glad for. That might make him your Prince Charming, but it doesn’t erase anything he’s done.”

  “Wow. Forgive much?” Owen said.

  Casper raised an eyebrow. “Apologize much?”

  “For your information, he’s no Prince Charming, but he is a gentleman—”

  “Seriously, how well do you know him?”

  “Well enough,” Scotty snapped, and in the back of his head, Owen heard, A “Yes, sir,” will do.

  He grinned as she glanced at him with a frown. “What are you laughing at, Eye Patch?”

  This got a chuckle out of Casper.

  And there it was, that stirring inside that told Owen he was going to live. Definitely, absolutely live, at least long enough to get out of this bed and chase Scotty right into his arms.

  In fact, now that they’d lived, he planned on never letting her go.

  Which brought him up short. He’d forgotten something else.

  “Wait—is everything okay with Mom and Dad? They’re fine, right?” It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe—“No one is sick?”

  This seemed to shake Casper a little, and his posture relaxed. “Breathe, Bro. They’re fine. Amelia is on her way to Africa—mission trip.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, and oh . . . Butter died.” Casper shoved his hands into his pockets.

  Owen winced, fighting a rush of emotion. He hadn’t expected that—never gave the old golden retriever more than a passing thought. But they’d had Butterscotch since he was a kid, and of course, he hadn’t expected the old dog to live forever. Still, his throat thickened with the news.

  “Mom took it pretty hard, but she’s okay now.” Casper paused a minute as if pondering what he was going to say.

  “What aren’t you . . . ? There’s something you’re not telling me. Are you sure everyone is okay? How’s Jace, Eden—?”

  “Jace is coaching for the Blue Ox now. Darek and Ivy had a baby girl.”

  “No, really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Baby Joy. And Grace and Max eloped and are now adopting this cute little girl from Ukraine.”

  Grace and Max, married. The man who’d caused his accident, in the family forever.

  But maybe he could leave that behind too—the anger that could choke him in the dark hours of the night.

  “I don’t know the details—Raina just told me.”

  And there it was, Owen’s sin, named. He’d spent more than a year trying to forget her—had, in fact, put her so far out of his mind that just hearing her name again felt like a slap.

  He kept his voice light. “Raina? So . . . you’re still . . .”

  Didn’t that sound awkward? He glanced at Scotty, who now just looked from Owen to Casper and back, the slightest frown on her face.

  This right here was why a prodigal with his rap sheet had no business chasing a girl like Scotty.

  “Yeah,” Casper said quietly. He sighed, his eyes finding Owen’s, holding them almost in challenge. “Raina and I are still together.”

  “Super. Awesome. That’s great.”

  Only, something about the way Casper looked at him . . . With every word he uttered, it seemed Casper wanted to drive a stake through Owen’s heart.

  Scotty was listening to the family summary with an enigmatic expression.

  “Wow. I can’t believe I missed . . . so much.”

  “Yep,” Casper said. Then he shook his head, his voice becoming strangely distant. “I don’t even know where to start with all you missed.”

  Owen glanced at Scotty again, turning their conversation from the raft over in his head. He remembered more now. He had been talking about his family and then . . . yes, about going home. And bringing her with him.

  You should go home. She seemed to read his thoughts—and nodded.

  “I think it’s time for me to go home,” he said in quiet echo of their conversation.

  She smiled, and it healed the wounds of his confession. Yes. Go home. With Scotty, he could—

  Scotty turned to Casper. “It’s all he talked about before . . . in the raft.”

  The raft. He was missing something, but with everyth
ing in him he wanted to reach up and wrap his hand around her neck and kiss her—really kiss her—because he’d been thinking about that for what seemed like an eternity. Pretty much the only thing that kept him alive—the thought of pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

  He had to figure out a way to make her come with him.

  He turned back to Casper, hanging on to the moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t call Mom.”

  “That’s the first smart thing you’ve said.”

  “For the record, I didn’t plan on nearly dying.”

  “I did mention he dove into the water to save my life.” Scotty looked at Casper. “Crazy. Idiot. Jerk.” She was smiling, though.

  Owen laughed, then moaned.

  “Stop it,” she said; then she laughed too. And Owen was right back in the raft, teasing her, watching her eyes shine. Wow, she could take his breath away.

  Casper wasn’t as easily charmed. “Who are you, exactly? Are you really his fiancée?”

  Owen froze at the word. Then a beat, a pulse, and the rest of his memory rounded out.

  He’d . . . proposed. On a whisper of breath, his last breath. He remembered the sunrise, the feel of her curled beside him, the sense of life peeling back, leaving behind only his regrets, his what-ifs, and in that moment, he’d let the voice inside run away with him.

  In fact, since we just spent the night together, I think you should probably do right by me . . . and marry me.

  A joke, perhaps, yet by the looks of things . . .

  He glanced at Casper, sorting through a response. She’s my fiancée. Ha, right, because she hadn’t, wouldn’t . . . not for a second . . . really have taken him seriously.

  Right?

  Who’d agree to marry him? A vagabond with one good eye, a deckhand with a motorcycle and a backpack to his name. What kind of life could he give her?

  Except Scotty didn’t seem the type to need a man to give her a life. They could give each other one, couldn’t they? Start out simple here in Alaska. Build what they wanted together. He’d buy a fishing boat—or work for her father, maybe—and they’d get their own place. And he would marry her because he suddenly hungered for the life that had formed in his mind in the first light of morning.

  His reason for living was right here.

  Holding his hand.

  Gray-green eyes in his. Long, silky black hair tumbling down over her green scrub top. Her face washed clean, the slightest smile catching her lips.

  So he said it. Let the words just tumble out like a wave crashing over them. Testing them. “She’s . . . Yes, Scotty is my fiancée.”

  He expected something like he’d given Casper about Raina—a warm congratulations. A laugh, maybe. A “Way to go, Bro.” But his eyes were on Scotty, gauging her reaction, so he didn’t exactly notice Casper’s quietness—or didn’t care because yeah, he was shocked too.

  Not Scotty. She smiled slowly, then looked away, shaking her head.

  “Right?” Owen said. “You said yes, didn’t you?”

  She giggled.

  He’d never heard that from her. A giggle. And if it was possible, she even blushed.

  “I dunno . . . I guess, yeah,” she said.

  In Owen’s book, that sounded like a goal that should have been accompanied by sirens and a thunderous crowd cheering his name.

  Scotty McFlynn, marrying him.

  “Don’t make me think about this too hard,” she said. “Because Carpie thinks I’m crazy, but . . . yeah. Maybe. What if, right? Maybe that’s why we lived.” She giggled again, and he just about found the strength to kick his brother out of the room, pull her alongside him.

  He was suddenly feeling much, much better.

  “Right,” he said. “We’re getting married—”

  “Oh, that’s a fantastic idea,” Casper said, his voice low.

  Huh?

  “Why not? Out of all your available choices, we just have to find the most irresponsible, and that’s what you’ll do.”

  His words sliced through the ethereal, ebullient happiness sifting down from never-never land.

  “You’re absolutely determined to destroy lives.”

  “Sheesh, Bro—”

  “If you care at all about this girl, you won’t marry her,” Casper said, and this time his words felt like a punch.

  Owen schooled his voice. “For the love of pete, Casper, what’s your problem?”

  “My problem is that you don’t think.” Casper pointed to his head. “Everything is fun and games with you.”

  “I’m not kidding here—” Owen reached for the railing, held on.

  “Sit tight there, bruiser,” Scotty said, her hand on his chest.

  “No, I don’t think you are,” Casper said, not rattled in the least by Scotty rising to her feet. “You’re dead serious. And that’s the problem. You don’t think beyond what feels good right now. What’s going to make Owen happy. How much does she really know about you, Owen?”

  The darkness of Casper’s words cut off his breathing.

  “You’re upsetting him!” Scotty said, and Owen grabbed her hand even as she started to round the bed as if intending to push Casper from the room.

  “Well, good. Maybe he needs to start thinking past his own enjoyment to the destruction his choices leave behind.”

  “I fail to see how marrying me—”

  “Look, Scotty, I’m sure you’re fantastic. And maybe marrying you is the best thing that could ever happen to Owen. But this really has nothing to do with you. You are just one more person Owen can make fall in love with him before he runs away and leaves you brokenhearted.”

  “What did I ever do to you?” Owen said, now pulling himself up.

  “Lie down!” Scotty barked.

  “Really?” Casper said.

  Owen heard the heart monitor begin to beep. “I know I made a few mistakes—”

  “And now I have to hurt you.” Casper turned away from him, blew out a breath.

  Owen surrendered to Scotty’s push on his shoulders, sinking back into the bed, nonplussed.

  His brother braced his hands on the windowsill. “Owen, I actually don’t care if you marry Scotty. In fact, yay, you. But you’re coming home first.”

  Owen frowned, trying to get a grip on the ferocity of Casper’s response. “No problem? I was . . . We were going to do that anyway, weren’t we, hon?”

  He kept his voice light, fighting the urge to let it end with a sharp edge.

  Next to him, Scotty still stood, holding his hand. She managed a slow nod.

  Then Casper rounded on them. He pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Uh, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. . . .”

  “Why not? Scotty needs to meet our family.”

  Casper’s mouth tightened. “Fine. I was just thinking that you might want to sort a few things out before you decide to let her meet the fam.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like—nothing.” Casper ran his hand down his face. “I’ve completely mucked this up. I’m sorry.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll come back later, when—”

  “Like what, Casper? Just tell me! Like apologizing to Mom and Dad? Done. Making peace with Max? Fine. Done. What other penance do I need to do to be forgiven by the beloved and perfect Casper Christiansen?”

  Casper stopped at the door. Then he turned, his eyes reddened. “How about figuring out how to be a father? Huh? How about that?”

  Time stopped. Along with Owen’s heartbeat. His breath.

  And then Scotty’s hand slid out of his.

  Owen wanted to reach for it, pull it back, but she clasped her arms around her middle, a frown dissecting her forehead, eyes just a little wounded.

  “Scotty . . .” He turned to Casper. “What are you talking about?”

  Casper had that dark expression—the one he’d worn at Eden’s wedding—and for a wild second Owen wanted to push the call button, maybe get some security in here.

  Then Casper breathed out as if he had everythi
ng under control. He walked over to the bed. Swallowed. “I wanted to say it in a way that . . . was better. Like I didn’t want to rip out your throat every time I thought about it. Apparently that’s not going to happen. There’s no good way to say it. The fact that you got a girl pregnant and then deserted her? Yeah, I didn’t know how to sugarcoat that.”

  “What. Are. You. Talking. About?” Owen said as the word started to settle in. Father?

  “You have a daughter, Owen. A beautiful, black-haired, blue-eyed daughter.”

  Silence.

  “Who—?”

  “Sheesh, Owen. I realize it’s probably hard for you to sift back through the list of hundreds of girls you’ve bedded but try real hard to remember the one—”

  “Hey!” Owen started, but then he stopped, thought for one second. He had been selfish. Reckless. Stupid. Arrogant. He swallowed hard. “I admit I made mistakes, but I haven’t been that guy for a long time.”

  “You only have to be that guy once.”

  He drew in a breath. “Do we have to do this in front of Scotty?”

  “Don’t mind me,” she said in a voice he didn’t recognize.

  And he was once again in the raft, losing his grip on the sunshine.

  “Scotty—wait.” He turned to Casper. “I’m not trying to be obtuse here, but what girl?”

  Casper closed his eyes.

  Then it all made sense. Why Casper had decked him at the wedding. How his brother had turned into a person he didn’t recognize. Furious. Owen would feel the same way if Casper or Darek had been with Scotty and left her pregnant.

  “Oh . . . It’s Raina. Raina had my baby,” Owen said quietly, not looking at Scotty. The words sank through him like inky darkness.

  Casper’s jaw tightened. “Yep. In January. Her name is Layla.”

  That’s when Owen heard the footsteps.

  He looked over just in time to see the door closing behind Scotty.

  “Scotty, come back!”

  Owen’s voice trailed her into the hallway, squeezing through the door before it shut behind her. Scotty stopped just outside, her heart banging in her chest.

  For a long time she stood, listening to the sounds from the nurses’ station down the hall, smelling the clean antiseptic scent of the hospital, and tasting her own stupidity.