Page 49 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Mags

? Angels like you - Miley Cyrus

O n Friday, Kamilla’s article drops, and by the weekend, it’s a viral sensation across all social media platforms; hashtags are trending, and everyone’s talking about it.

She’s getting every bit of recognition she deserves and several morning shows have reached out to schedule interviews with us.

After a brief chat, we agree to wait until some of the bluster dies down.

She thinks it would be beneficial to wait until my second book releases, and she even encourages me to attend the Toronto book signing Victoria roped me into.

Reluctantly, I agree, but by Monday, the weight of the world crashes down on me like a tidal wave.

Miss Watson, this is Detective Boucher with the Toronto Police. We’d like to discuss an urgent development in your case if you could give us a call back at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

I listen to the voicemail for the third time, the words still not completely registering.

“Hey. You okay?” Paige’s voice brings me back to the present as she slides into the booth beside me.

The voicemail came in as soon as I arrived at the diner for brunch, and I’ve been paralyzed by the implications ever since.

“Rosie said you weren’t responding when she called out to you. What’s going on?”

“TPS called. There’s a development in the case.

” My voice is devoid of all emotion as I hand over my phone with the voicemail on the screen.

Paige holds it to her ear, her concerned expression changing to a mix of sadness and determination.

“I’ll stay with you if you want to call them back. We can even go somewhere more private.”

My hands tremble as I try to get a handle on my emotions. “I… shit… I don’t think I can do this.”

Paige wraps her arm around my shoulder, her comforting embrace soothing some of my anxiety. “What are you afraid of?”

“I was moving on,” I explain. “Things were getting better. The bruises are gone. I got over my fear of intimacy. What if whatever they have to say ruins all of the progress I’ve made.”

“You won’t know until you find out what they know.

And if you have to start from scratch, I’ll be right here by your side to help you through it.

You’re not alone anymore, Mags. You have a whole community here that loves you.

Hell, you have Miles fucking Barlow wrapped around your little finger.

I know you’re dead set against staying, but you have a home here whether you like it or not. ”

I worry my bottom lip, letting her words linger in the back of my mind.

I don’t have an answer right now. She’s not entirely wrong — Oak Ridge has started to feel like home o ver the past few months, but I’m still restless and unsettled.

Rosie approaches the table with a look of worry etched on her face as she places a glass of water in front of me.

Taking the decision out of my hands, Paige says, “Hey, Ro? Would you mind if we borrowed the apartment for a little bit. Maggie has an important call to make.”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Paige squeezes my hand before leading me to the back of the diner towards a narrow set of stairs.

When we reach the top, we enter a quaint apartment with an open concept living space.

It’s a little dated, but incredibly charming.

“I’ll get outta your hair,” Rosie says, squeezing my shoulder.

“If y’all need anything at all, just holler. ”

“Thanks Rosie.”

“Anytime, darlin’. We’re here for you.” The door closes with a thud and her footsteps fade as she descends the stairs.

I follow Paige into the small living room with the worn yellow sofa, my eyes unfocused as I prepare myself for what’s to come.

It takes me a moment to realize she’s still holding my phone in her hand as she tugs me down onto the sofa beside her. “Do you want me to talk?” she asks.

Finally coming out of my haze, I respond, “No. I think I have to do this myself.” She nods and presses the call button before handing the phone to me, then she gently takes my other hand in a firm grip, silently offering her support.

“Toronto Police. How may I direct your call?”

“Hi. Um. My name is Maggie Watson. I received a call from Detective Boucher.”

The robotic sounding voice responds, “Please hold while I transfer your call.”

A while later, a gruff voice comes over the line. “Detective Boucher.”

“Hello Sir. This is Maggie Watson.”

“Hi Maggie. I’m sorry to call you under these difficult circumstances. I was wondering if you’d be able to come in to speak to me sometime this afternoon?”

I shift on the spot, anxiety coursing through me.

“I’m out of the country right now. Honestly, sir, I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me why you needed to speak with me so I can get on with my life.

I don’t mean to be rude.” My voice holds more confidence than I feel, but I’m ready to put this behind me.

“No, it’s okay. You’ve been through an ordeal. It’s understandable that you’d want to move on. You may want to sit down for this. Do you have someone with you?”

His words do nothing to set me at ease. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“We’ve identified your attacker as Eric Tremblay. Does that name mean anything to you?”

At the sound of my roommate's name, my entire body seizes and I can’t seem to suck in air.

I can faintly hear my name being called as Paige’s hand strokes over my spine.

“Sir. This is Paige Brooks. I’m Maggie’s best friend.

She’s having a panic attack. We’ll have to call you back.

” Her voice sounds distant as my vision blurs and countless suppressed memories assault me.

Stupid fucking bitch.

All you had to do was notice me.

Bet you’ll fucking notice me now.

The sound of his belt.

Panting.

Pain.

So much pain.

Then darkness.

“Mags, breathe for me, baby.” Miles. He’s here.

“In and out. That’s it.”

My eyes snap up to meet the brilliant blue irises of the man who’s stolen my heart.

Paige must have called him. “There she is.” He palms the back of my head, bringing me f lush against his chest. He gently kisses my temple and my breathing starts to slow as I listen to his erratic heartbeat.

“Fuck, Mags. You scared the shit out of us.”

I glance around the apartment, locking eyes with a distressed looking Paige. Cade has her wrapped in his embrace, mascara tracks staining her rosy cheeks. Guilt swamps me as I realize just how worried they must’ve been. “I’m sorry.”

Miles stiffens beneath me. “Don’t you dare apologize. None of this is your fault.”

Minutes tick by slowly as I find my composure. Exhaling a shaky breath, I pull away slightly to look at my friends, unable to find the words to express how much they mean to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hadn’t been here. “Did the detective say anything else?” I ask hesitantly.

Paige shakes her head in response, loosening her grip on Cade. “I told him we’d call back. But we don’t have to do this today, Mags.”

“No, I want to. I need to know why this happened or I’ll never be able to move on.”

Eyeing me with trepidation, she sighs. “Ok.”

She hands the phone back to me once the detective is on the line, and I quickly put it on speakerphone. “Miss Watson. Are you alright? This can wait.”

“I’m okay. Please tell me what happened.”

“We were called to your home for a welfare check in the early hours of the morning, where we located your deceased roommate. The landlord — your father, I believe — said he hadn’t heard from Eric in well over two weeks and the rent was past due. There was a note.”

Unable to wrap my head around the fact that my father was somehow involved in the discovery, I focus on the biggest bombshell instead. “He’s… dead?”

“Yes. It appears he couldn’t live with the guilt of what he did to you and he took his own life. It’s over, Miss Watso n. We have no reason to believe there was any foul play. We’ll run the DNA to confirm, but I believe your case will be closed once we have final confirmation.”

“Th… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself, Miss Watson.”

When the line goes dead, I collapse into Miles’ arms and sob.

The cushion dips on my other side as the familiar scent of my best friend wraps around me.

Having the two most important people in my life hold me while I’m falling apart soothes the broken part of me that’s always longed for a family.

And when Cade crouches down in front of me, his hands resting on top of Paige’s on my knee, silently offering his support, I know I’m exactly where I need to be.

Paige lingers as long as she can, but she has to get back to Sofia, so she leaves me with a crushing hug and a reminder to call her later.

Miles ushers me out of the diner and back to his truck, and the whole time I’m completely numb.

I cried out every thought and emotion I had, and now I feel utterly empty.

I got the closure I wanted, and instead of relief, irrevocably shattered.

Because there’s no longer any reason for me to stay.

Miles

As swiftly as Maggie fell apart in my arms, it took half that time for her to piece herself back together.

And I don’t know what’s going on in her head because she refuses to talk about it.

It’s been six days since she got the call, and she’s been eerily unaffected since we left Rosie’s that afternoon.

She’s not coping, and I’m worried she’s trying to lock it away until it inevitably comes crashing to the surface.

I didn’t know I could miss someone when we’re basically living together. Our banter is non-existent, and she’s thrown herself into writing to avoid talking about what happened. S he’s a shell of the woman I’ve fallen for, and it kills me to see her this way.

The Oak Ridge Police made contact for the first time since Matty’s arrest. They’ll be keeping him in custody pending his next hearing, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting out anytime soon.

The investigation is ongoing, but it seems Maggie isn’t the only victim of his blackmailing schemes, just the latest in a long line of unfortunate souls who happened to land in his crosshairs.

I thought the news would get some kind of reaction from her, but she shrugged it off like everything else.

“Isn’t it about time you get back to work?” she asks, sizing me up from her spot at the kitchen island where she’s thumbing through the pages of her new favorite notebook.

“Sick of me already?” I tease, pulling open the fridge for the second time so it doesn’t look like I came in here to check on her.

I pull out another unnecessary bottle of water and lean against the counter.

I won’t pretend to be impervious to her lack of emotion.

She’s closed herself off to everything and everyone as a defense mechanism.

I know, I’ve been there, but it’s only going to make things so much worse when she can’t keep up the pretense.

She looks up from her work, pinning me with a glare. “You’re hovering.”

“You’re dissociating.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fine?

I got my closure. I know what happened. I’m moving on.

Why can’t you?” She hops off the stool, storming past me towards the living room, but I snag her by the wrist before she can get far and she keeps her back turned so she doesn’t have to look me in the eye.

I stroke my thumb over her pulse point, noticing how thin her wrist feels in my palm.

Keeping my voice low, I say, “Is this you moving on, Mags? You’re not sleeping.

You’re barely eating. You walk around like nothing happened, but I see the emptiness in your eyes. I see you, baby. I’ve always seen you.”

She pulls herself free of my hold and glances over her shoulder. “You saw a broken person who needed rescuing.”

“That’s not fair, Mags. I never saw you that way. You were never fucking broken to me.” Is that what she thinks? Does she not know by now I can't even breathe without her?

“I was, Miles. Maybe still am. I don’t know. But I can’t stay here.” She heads up the stairs to the bedroom, gathering her things along the way. I follow close behind, and when she starts throwing her things into the duffel bag, I lose it.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?” Leave me is what I want to say, but the words get stuck in my throat.

She pauses with one of my hoodies balled between her fists, looking at me with an expression I can’t decipher. “I don’t have a home here, Miles.”

I step into her space, cupping her jaw in both hands. My heart pounds out of my chest, terrified she’ll deny me. “Stay.”

“What?” her voice is small, or maybe my heart is beating too loudly for me to hear her quiet question.

I gaze at her longingly, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I’m asking my girlfriend to move in with me. Stay for good. This is your home — it has been since that very first night.”

She drops the hoodie and places her hands over mine, closing her eyes as a single tear tracks over her cheek, and I can’t resist bringing my lips to her forehead. “Please,” I beg.

“What happens when this fizzles out? Will you ask me to leave or will you let me stay and resent me for being in your space?”

“That’s not gonna happen. We both know you’ll get sick of me first.”

My attempt at humor dies as Maggie steps out of my hold. “I’m not built for staying.”

“Maybe nobody’s ever shown you how. Maybe nobody’s ever been worth staying for.” Please tell me I’m worth it.

“I want to. I want to tell you I’ll stay and we can be together and live happily ever after. But I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Then let me show you. I’m all in, Mags. I want everything with you. The late nights on the porch swing. The early morning sex. The house, the car, maybe even a dog. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you. Just say you’ll stay.”

“Miles, I…”

“Please, Maggie.”

“Daylight.”

I stumble back like I’ve just taken a gut punch — and maybe I have because that one word uttered in the most broken voice I’ve ever heard is the worst blow I’ve ever been dealt.