Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(30)

 

The third glass goes down even easier, and I sink into Rowan’s chair.

 

I’ve been in this room before, long ago, when it used to be a storage room. Silas and I broke in through that same back door, swiping two warm beers each out of an open case and giggling like maniacs as we dashed outside and up to the roof to drink our spoils.

 

I’m up before I know it, slugging back the drink and feeling the scotch burn through me like a whirlwind. Outside, I climb the old metal stairs to the roof, breathing in the salt air with each step back up to this place of memories.

 

You can see the whole town from up here, with O’Donnell’s being up the hill from the harbor. The lights of Main Street - still choked with tourists milling around tourist bars and souvenir shops, or eating ice-cream cones and frozen lemonade down by the park.

 

The knick-knack shops.

 

The lobster roll places.

 

The harbor.

 

I can’t actually see it, but I know that his stupid houseboat is down there somewhere.

 

This is a bad idea.

 

Just…just a really bad one.

 

I somehow make my way back down the metal stairs without tripping, and then I’m off.

 

Because bad idea or not, I need some damn answers, and I need them right now.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

 

 

 

Silas

 

 

 

 

Cold beer, sea air, the water rocking against the side of the boat.

 

“The boat” being that rental I’d been trying to see Doug Conlin about before Ivy elbowed me in the face that day on the docks. Can’t say I was expecting a houseboat, but I’ve gotta say, it suits me just fine. It’s quiet, it’s cheap, you can’t beat the views, and my closest neighbor is old Mr. Conlin himself - five slips down the docks on a forty-footer he’s apparently decided to live on and restore since retiring from his drug store.

 

So this is home now, apparently. Home sweet fucking home, where everyone’s either forgotten who I was or wishes they had.

 

And yet, as glib as I want to be, and as much as I want to roll my eyes at even the idea of calling this damn town “home”….

 

Well, it kind of is, whether I want it to be or not. You don’t get to pick where you’re from, unfortunately, only where you go. And somehow where I went took me right fucking back here. To the same town, and the same girl I left behind.

 

I shake my head, sitting with one knee bent up on the roof of the houseboat, looking out over the harbor growing quiet for the night.

 

In a funny way, the boat and the beer and the ocean air make me think of Dublin. Well, the same, and yet totally different. It was never this nice out over there, that’s for sure. It was dreary, and cold, and I never really had a moment like this just to be alone in my own head. I was too busy stealing, or pulling jobs, or drowning myself in whiskey, women, and the madness of my own head to let myself take a moment and just be.

 

I spent eight years wondering what I’d do if and when I saw her again. And every single smooth, heartfelt, or thought-out thing I ever thought about saying went right out of my head the second I actually did.

 

The girl I told “forever.”

 

The one who said it back and then let me walk away.

 

I take a long, slow pull of my beer as I stare out over the harbor.

 

“I need answers.”

 

And suddenly, her voice isn’t just in my head, it’s right here and now. I jerk my head around and look down at the dock from my perch.

 

Ivy.

 

I shake the lingering thoughts from my head as I raise a brow at her.

 

“Looking to come aboard?”

 

“No.” She shakes her head, her face angry as she jabs a finger at me.

 

“No cute talk; no games, Silas. We’re done with that.”

 

I frown. “Should I put Monopoly away?”

 

“Silas.”

 

“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up as I slowly stand and turn to get a better look at her.

 

She’s fury personified, her now golden hair flamed out around her face, her eyes flashing green fire.

 

I cross my arms across my chest as I nod. “Come on up.”

 

She stumbles as she clambers over the side onto the boat, swearing under her breath in the semi-dark of the twilight.

 

“Those heels aren’t going to do you any favors on the ladder.”

 

She glares at me as she kicks them off onto the deck of the boat, muttering under her breath as she makes for the ladder up to the roof. I finally relent, kneeling and giving her a hand up as she finishes the last few rungs.

 

She brushes her skirt down, furiously pushing hair out of her face.