Page 63 of Wicked Ends (Hellions of Hade Harbor #4)

Arianna

It didn’t take long to pack up my room at the Night Owl. I’d never really unpacked my things. Correction, I’d barely had any possessions in the first place. Not in Hade Harbor. I’d crawled here, hunted and haunted, with barely two cents to rub together, and somehow, made a life.

Stuff didn’t matter. The rented room and sloshy waterbed meant more than the years I’d lived in comparative luxury with my grandparents.

My meager clothing collection was more precious than when I’d had a whole wardrobe full of expensive labels.

I’d never cared about what I’d worn then, only that it covered me and didn’t draw attention.

Now, my well-worn mini collection of outfits had memories attached.

The jeans I wore at the Chickadee. The top I wore the first night I met Marcus.

The hockey jersey hanging from a wire hanger, holding a thousand happy moments in its folds.

I stared at the suitcase I’d packed. I’d planned to leave Hade Harbor tonight.

I was going to take the fall for everything at school, make sure Marcus got back on track with the life he deserved, and then go.

Deciding to leave had been gut- wrenching, soul-destroying, any awful and life-ending adjective you could think of, but I’d done it.

For him. So he could have a fresh start. So that knowing me wouldn’t have cost him everything.

Now, I didn’t know. I wasn’t fired, like I’d planned to be.

It left me in a weird in-between space. One thing was for sure, however, I needed to get Marcus to practice tomorrow and recommitted to the team.

Coach Williams would be pissed about him being benched, but he wouldn’t want to lose him.

He was the best goalie I’d ever seen. He was born for it.

My phone beeped with a message. Would this be the last time Marcus texted me?

Could we move on from the bad shit that had happened between us?

From Cole’s injury and surgery to whatever had gone down with Dale at the end, knowing me had exploded a bomb in Marcus’ life.

The guilt and shame felt thick, a heavy blanket laying across my shoulders, weighing me down.

I picked up my phone, a thrill running through me at the sight of his name, and saw a dropped pin. The location was vaguely familiar.

I stood and slipped my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my keys. Whether it was the last time I saw Marcus or not, one thing was for sure: I’d make sure he made it to practice tomorrow.

I had time for one more game, and there was no one else I wanted to play with more.

The pin took me to the house I’d gone to see a few weeks ago.

It felt like another life. That day had been a study in contrasts.

From the high of realizing that I wanted to put down roots in Hade Harbor and the tentative hope that I’d be able to stay with Marcus, at least until he got bored of me, to the painful reality of Dale catching up with me.

I left my car at the side of the quiet road behind Marcus’ motorcycle and walked through the wild beach roses and dune grass wavering in the wind, filling the front yard.

Someone had cleaned up the porch. The exterior paint was new, as were the rocking chairs set in the corner of the wraparound porch, overlooking the view down to the water.

There were even a couple of lobster traps repurposed as tables, and a rusty tin lantern swayed from a nail.

I stopped and stared at the pretty domestic scene it made.

Someone had clearly snapped this place up and made it a real home in the time I’d been battling with Dale.

I was jealous, for a second. So jealous I couldn’t breathe.

But that was plain wrong. I forced my resentment away.

I had too much to be grateful for lately.

I dragged a deep breath of clean salty air into my strangled lungs and relaxed my shoulders.

I was glad that someone was going to live in this beautiful house.

But why was I here?

I walked up the creaking stairs and approached the door. This was where he wanted to meet? I pulled my phone out and checked it as I stood there, looking for signs of life. While I waited, a message came through.

M: Key is under the lighthouse.

A pretty, painted lighthouse statue sat by the front door, next to a new welcome mat. I lifted it, and sure enough, there was a key.

Straightening up, I fiddled with it and texted Marcus back.

A: I can’t just walk into someone’s house. Where are you?

M: Waiting for you. Trust me, birthday girl, one last time.

My breath caught in my throat at those words. Did I trust him? I didn’t even have to wait for my heart to answer before I was unlocking the door and opening it.

The couch had been replaced with a pale-pink one, covered in a thick cream wool throw.

The wooden floor had been oiled, and now it gleamed.

Low sconces filled the space with cozy light.

Pictures of the sunset over Hade Harbor had been hung up in driftwood frames, and over the old stone fireplace, a huge mirror had been placed.

The room smelled nice, like expensive candles, and fresh, clean air.

There was even a mural of musical notes with vivid bursts of color behind them, climbing the wall behind the staircase.

“What do you think?”

Marcus’ voice had me spinning around.

He stood in the open-plan kitchen. It was freshly painted. No more chipping paint there. There were new handles on the cabinets. Little knobs with what looked like sheet music printed across them.

There was an ice bucket on the table, and a bottle of something fizzy inside it.

“Think of what?” I had no idea what to think, but my heart was beating like I’d run a marathon.

“Your new place.”

Everything felt very quiet. Marcus advanced.

“This place, it’s all yours.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t apply. I’d never get it without references anyway,” I rambled.

Marcus nodded. “I’m sure a fake identity would make it difficult, too.” He smirked, teasing me.

“Exactly, so what are you talking about?”

“Here’s the contract,” Marcus said and handed me a piece of paper.

I scanned it. It certainly seemed to be a rental agreement of some kind.

“I don’t understand—there’s no rent filled in here,” I pointed out.

Marcus hummed, rocking back on his heels. “Hmm, I wasn’t sure what to put. What’s good? Zero dollars, or some nominal amount? How about five dollars a month, or ten?”

“I’m lost,” I admitted.

Marcus reached out and took the paper from my hand and cupped my face. His touch relaxed something vital inside me, something that was always tight when he wasn’t around.

“No, you’re not lost, not anymore. I found you, Ari, and I’m not letting you leave. You’re home now.”

“Home?” I repeated. Something was melting inside me, and I felt like I needed to hold on to Marcus. The floor felt like it was shifting, like my whole world was turning upside down.

He nodded decisively. “Yes, this is your home, and this is your town. We aren’t letting you go. My brother owns this property, and it’s rented to you without an end date. If we play our cards right, he’ll give it to us as an engagement present.”

“Engagement present!” I squeaked. “Now I know you’re messing with me.”

He sighed. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sorry. I’m excited. Let’s do this step by step. Are you a standing proposal person, or a kneeling one?”

“What is happening?” I demanded and clapped a hand over my mouth as Marcus lowered himself to his knees.

“I’ll go with traditional. Arianna Spencer, birthday girl.

I’m afraid I can’t let you leave town. I can’t let you quit your job.

I can’t let you go, period. I won’t. I told you to be careful showing your caring, beautiful heart around a man like me, because I’d want to keep you, and I’m afraid it’s happened. I’m never letting you go, beautiful.”

“What are you saying?” I wondered.

Marcus lifted an eyebrow. “I’m proposing.”

“It sounds more like a threat,” I said.

He laughed. “Well, I’m new to romance, cut me a break. I suppose the difference between the words—we’ll be together forever—is just tone. I’ll work on that.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You can’t be asking me to marry you. You’re still in college.”

“We don’t have to get married tomorrow. I need my ring on your finger.

I need you here, in this house, with me, and no more bullshit about leaving or sacrificing yourself for me.

We are done with that. I get it. You care about me.

I’ll never forget it. It’s time to let all that go and move the hell on. I’m looking at tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow has us together?”

Marcus shrugged. “It’s the only way to a happy ending. You and me being together is the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only thing that works. There is no alternative for either of us but each other. I know you know that, but you’re going to make me show you, aren’t you?”

I stared at him, a balloon of hope so precious blossoming up in my chest. Just like that, under his steady gaze, all the resolutions I’d made to leave, and the burden of feeling like that was the right thing to do, even if it hurt like hell, burst open, and I was crying.

Marcus pulled me into his arms, or I fell, I’m not sure.

Either way, he guided me down to the floor and onto his lap.

My legs sprawled awkwardly against the shining wood floor, and my body bowed into his chest as I cried, and cried, and he held me and kept on holding me.

All the fear I’d felt, and bitter disappointment at how my fresh new start had turned out, all the anxiety about what would be next and where I would land, collided hard in my chest.

Most of all, the agony of feeling like I was a toxin to the person I loved, and the kindest thing I could do was leave him, bubbled up and out of me, flowing in hot, desperate tears. He didn’t hate me. He didn’t blame me.

He still wanted me.