Because I’d done it.
However, one day, fate finally decided to stop playing games and the postal system found said package. It was delivered. The documents were read. The gun was investigated.
And I was freed.
Just like that.
No apology.
No compensation.
Just a stern warning that they knew that I knew that I’d done it.
That just because the man who’d sent the letter died a week after sending didn’t mean they believed he’d done it. They hated that the widower’s voice carried beyond the grave to redeem me.
A complete stranger saved my life.
And I had no way to repay him.
Brady C. Marlton.
My hero.
.............................
The cell door clanging wrenched my eyes open.
“Oak...you’re free to go. We’ve arranged a taxi to take you to the apartment where Ms. Evermore and her child are staying.”
I wanted to burst into tears.
In fact....I’d been strong for so much of my life. So angry. So full of misplaced rage. That I did cry.
I silently let go and my cheeks remained wet the entire time I signed the temporary visa permitting me to enter Australia, swallowed my gratefulness the entire taxi ride, and collapsed to my knees as I knocked on the door of apartment 12F and Estelle fell into my arms.
I’d lived three lives.
An Englishman’s existence.
A felon’s incarceration.
And a crash wrecked survivor’s.
But none of those defined me.
Only one thing did.
This woman.
My wife.
My home.
Chapter Seventy-Four
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
DAWN WAS WELCOMED with an orgasm rather than a yawn.
When Galloway tumbled into my arms, contrite on his knees and heavily burdened with a past he could never shake, we couldn’t stop touching.
I hugged him and stroked him, and when I led him into the apartment, I kissed him.
That kiss turned into another.
And another.
And another.
The kiss turned into stripping on the kitchen counter.
The stripping turned to his lips on my sex and his tongue licking me deep.
And sunrise turned into him sliding possessively inside me, claiming me, loving me, solidifying our bond that no matter what happened, no matter who tried to break us, no matter the circumstances that tried to kill us, we were one, and together we could fight anything.
He didn’t tell me how his father had cleared him.
And I didn’t pry.
One day, I would.
All I knew was Mike Oak had emailed the documentation that’d given my husband his life back. Given him to me.
One day, I would demand the full story, not because I didn’t believe he was a good person but because a story such as his should be told. He would forever live with what he did. He didn’t take it lightly, but now, he had me and I would help him shoulder the burden of taking another’s life. Even if that life was justified to be taken.
“I love you, Estelle.”
I kissed his lips, arching my back and inadvertently pressing my breasts against his bare chest. We’d ended up naked on the balcony; hidden by smoky glass panels, we’d gravitated to the sound of the ocean and the comforting never-still breeze of open skies.
For so long, we’d longed for sealed doors and air-tight spaces.
But now that we had them, all I wanted was the wildness of sleeping with no windows, the freedom of rain slapping against flax, and the knowledge that everything we ever needed was within harvesting distance on our own piece of paradise.
Funny how people evolved...most of the time without their knowledge or permission.
“I understand if you want to move back to England, G,” I whispered into his skin, peppering kisses among the springy hair decorating his masculine body. “Australia hasn’t exactly been welcoming.”
He chuckled, gathering me closer. “I don’t care where we live. As long as it’s together.”
“We’ll always be together.”
“Thank God for that.”
His mouth came down, and we lost each other to another sensual kiss. His cock stirred against me and the thought of making love on an open-air balcony with neighbours above who could look down at any moment barely restrained me from rolling him onto his back and straddling him.
So many times I’d done exactly that, pushing him into the surf, the tide lashing my knees as I rocked onto his body, my hands on his chest, my nails stabbing warm skin, and his eyes catching the final rays of moonshine.
We’d taken our islandic existence for granted. We hadn’t seen how special it was until it was too late.
I doubted we would ever go back.
Even though I would’ve given anything to return.
It’s funny how I’ve erased the hardship of the past few months.
All I could remember were the happy times.