Page 206 of Override

Then nods.

I don't know exactly what happened between Maeve and her family after she married Ronan.

But I'm going to find out.

Because someone convinced this woman that the people who loved her wouldn't come for her.

And if the look on Cormac O'Donnell's face in every photograph I've studied means what I think it does, Maeve is about to find out exactly how wrong she is.

Chapter 43

Maeve

The sweatshirt is making me sweat but I refuse to take it off.

The morning sun pours through the passenger-side window as Keaton drives toward my parents' estate, warming the dark fabric stretched over my arms, but every time I consider pulling it over my head, my fingers tighten around the cuffs instead.

My father bought me this sweatshirt. Years ago, on a trip. I'd forgotten to pack anything warm because I was kid and apparently believed checking the weather was something only responsible adults did.

Dad had disappeared while I was getting ready for dinner and returned with this. And a coat. And gloves. And a hat I never wore because it made me look like a mushroom.

He'd been deeply offended.

The memory makes my chest ache. I look down at the faded fabric and smooth my palm over my stomach.

Maybe he'll remember it. Maybe he'll see it and remember who I was before Ronan. Maybe it'll make him less angry with me.

I don't know why I think he's going to be angry.

Except I do. I've embarrassed him.

Even if no one knows what happened yet, they will. People in my father's world always know everything eventually, and there is no way to explain why I left my husband's home with a man without revealing the truth about my marriage.

A truth I still don't entirely understand myself. I turn my face toward the window and watch the trees blur past.

"You don't have to go." Keaton's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I look over. He's watching the road, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other taps twice against his thigh.

"I know."

"We can turn around."

"I know."

"Or go somewhere else."

"I know."

"We could also drive past the house first. Gather visual information before committing to entry."

I stare at him. "Are you suggesting we surveil my parents before visiting them?"

"I'm suggesting reconnaissance."

"That's surveillance with better marketing."

His mouth twitches. I settle back into my seat. It's still strange seeing him like this. Driving. Existing in daylight.