You're the One That I Want (8 page)

The man took her hand, one eyebrow raised.

And then she heard it
 
—Owen’s voice, muffled under the oxygen mask. She leaned over. “Sweetheart, I’m here.”

His gaze landed on her a moment, and questions filled his expression. Then suddenly warmth entered his blue eyes as, hopefully, it all rushed back to him.

She smiled. “You’re back.”

He nodded, but his gaze ranged past her, to the doctor.

And everything darkened. His eyes, his expression. It broke in a moment to a frown, confusion.

He reached up as if to grab his mask, but she caught his hand. “What is it?”

He spoke, but she couldn’t make it out, so she moved his mask aside. “What’s the matter, Owen?”

His focus stayed on the doctor, still unmoving beside the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Swept overboard.” The man shook his head. “How epic.” He lifted his hand as if shaping the headline. “‘Former Hockey Player Lost at Sea.’ You could have
died
, Owen, and no one would have known. Mom would spend the rest of her years wondering
 
—hoping you’d call. Waiting for
nothing
. Is that how you wanted to play this? Punish us all forever?”

Huh?

Owen swallowed, then looked at Scotty, such confusion on his face that she wanted to lean over him in a full-out body block and order this jerk from the room.

In fact . . . “Listen, mister, I don’t know who you are, but he’s been through enough. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The man turned his gaze on her.

Wait.
Mom
, he had said. And in truth, if she put the two men side by side, they had the same high cheekbones, chiseled lips, a tightness to the jawline that could only be a genetic arrogance.

And then, as if Owen had the ability to crawl inside her thoughts and had been slightly conscious during all her visitation sessions, he stirred from his stillness, back to reality, and played along with their charade. “Honey, I want you to meet my brother, everyone’s sweetheart, Casper Christiansen.”

A guy just returning from the dead should have a few seconds to catch up. To ask questions.

Like . . . they’d lived? Apparently yes, based on the deep ache
in Owen’s chest, the hiss of oxygen under his nose, his dry-as-ice mouth, and the way his heart monitor reminded him, with each beep, to hit his knees in gratitude.

He hadn’t died. And it got better because surely God had heard his prayers if he’d not only come out alive but had beautiful Scotty McFlynn sitting beside his bed, holding his hand, looking at him like she might cry?

In fact, he might have convinced himself he was still sleeping if it weren’t for the shocking sight of Casper, in all his glory, rocking him back to the sins he couldn’t escape.

Which led to . . . what was Casper doing here?

“Everyone’s sweetheart. That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s most likely left a trail of broken hearts from one end of the country to the other,” Casper said.

Broken hearts? Owen glanced at Scotty, back to Casper, wanting to shut him up fast. Not that he’d hidden his past from Scotty, but he didn’t exactly want to hash out his torrid months of trying to work the grief out of his system.

“How’d you find me?” Owen said, his voice sounding as if he’d done hard time as a two-packs-a-day smoker. He cleared his throat.

“Why? Hoping to stay lost?” Casper said.

“Maybe.” He wished for a little more oomph, something that didn’t make him sound like a man on his deathbed. “But if I remember correctly, I wasn’t the only one who left without a forwarding address, so don’t get righteous on me.” Owen’s voice faded and he licked his lips.

Scotty glanced at him, frowning. And in her glance he saw the quiet, hardworking guy he’d cultivated over the past months dissolve into the angry has-been athlete he’d been trying to outrun.

Shoot.

Casper’s other eyebrow rose. “If I’d stayed, it would have ended badly.”

“For you maybe.” Aw, he wanted to wince at his own words. What was it about his brother
 
—?

Scotty had grabbed his water. Now she angled the straw toward him and leaned close. “Your brother is here.
Right here.
And you nearly died. Be nice.”

Yes. Of course. But he couldn’t shake away the sense of being dressed down.

Casper shifted as if debating his words. “I came back. On my own. No one had to hunt me down.”

“Are you looking for some kind of thank-you? I don’t need my big brother to drag me by the ear back home.”

“Prove it.”

There it was, the condescension, the sense of competition between them that simmered right below the surface. The sense that Casper was always egging him on to be better, stronger.

Well, he had been, thank you. Who was the one who’d played professional hockey while the other brother talked about hoboing around the world hunting for lost treasure?

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 everything 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.