Four Years Later

CHAPTER 21

Owen

I wait out by my car for her, wishing for about the ten thousandth time that I’d offered to come pick her up. She probably would have turned me down. I don’t want to push, but I hadn’t expected her to answer my text messages.

She did. Her words mirrored mine but reflected her own troubles. The secrets she kept from me. I want to hear them. I need to.

I need to see her.

Girls approach me outside, one after another, all of them asking if I need anything, do I want something to drink, something to eat, maybe I could take them back to my room and they could help me out in other ways. So many girls are here, looking to score with a football player. Ready to brag to their friends that they snagged one. I don’t want to deal with the groupies and the obvious girls who want nothing more than to get laid.

I used to be one of those guys who wanted nothing more than to get laid. It didn’t matter with whom or where, I was happy to be getting some.

I’m not that guy anymore. I want my sweet, smart girl. I need Chelsea.

Whipping my phone out of my pocket, I check for a message from her but there isn’t one. My head is clear, the faint haze from my earlier buzz all gone. I’m focused. Centered. She feels close. I can sense her presence, I swear, and when I glance up I see her. Walking across the street, headed straight for me. Her hair is in a sloppy knot on top of her head, she doesn’t have any makeup on, and she’s wearing the sweatshirt I gave her when we went to Drew’s football game and black leggings that make her legs look like they’re a mile long.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hi.” She stops directly in front of me, her hands stuffed in the pocket on the front of her sweatshirt, her expression wary but her gaze … hopeful.

“Hey.” I want to reach out and touch her so bad it’s killing me. “You, uh, walked here?”

She shrugs. “I’ve had so much crap happen to me lately, I figured I may as well live dangerously and walk. What else can go wrong?”

Damn. She doesn’t usually talk like this. She’s the positive one in this relationship. “What’s going on, Chels?” I give in to my urge and reach out, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, let my index finger trace the curve of it.

She releases a shuddery breath and closes her eyes, exhaling softly. “Are you high?”

“What? No.” Fuck. I need to tell her the truth. “I took one puff on a joint earlier. Wade caught me. I stopped.”

“Owen …” She shakes her head, the disappointment clear in her voice, and I’m so scared she’s going to leave me for good I don’t know what to do.

“I was feeling sort of fucked up,” I confess. “I thought I saw you earlier.”

“Where?” She frowns.

“At the game. Some girl who looked a lot like you was hanging all over some guy.” I take a deep breath. “I was jealous.”

“You thought it was me.”

I nod. “And I just wanted to forget, you know? That’s why I lit up. Then Wade saw me and called me out on my shit. Made me realize I can’t run away from my problems. I need to face them head on.” I stare at her, hoping she realizes what I’m saying.

I’m willing to face our problems and make them right. I want this to work. I want us to work.

“I can’t be with you if you keep smoking weed,” she murmurs. “I just … I can’t deal with it.”

“I swear I won’t, Chels. For you, I’ll give it up.”

“You have to want to give it up for yourself, too, you know,” she points out.

Damn, my girl is smart. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

She stares at me for a moment, her gaze dark, her expression sad. “I have to move out of my apartment,” she blurts out.

Shit, she’s leaving? Panic races through me and I stifle it down. I don’t know if I can stand the thought of her gone. “Why?”

“Kari got a bad case of mono and her parents freaked so hard they withdrew her from school, packed up all her stuff and brought her back home. They never really wanted her to leave, to go away for school. This is their way of getting her back under their control.”

Controlling parents who actually care. I have no idea what that’s like. “You can’t find another roommate?”

“No. Kari’s parents took all of her furniture and I only have a few things. I’ve been alone in that little apartment for almost two weeks.” A tiny sob escapes her and she hangs her head, kicks at the sidewalk with her booted foot. “I’ve been working extra shifts. I-I’ve even skipped class.”

“What?” I must have sounded extra startled because her head jerks up, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“I said I’ve skipped class.”

“But you never skip.” I’m incredulous.

“I had no choice. I was either working or passed out in bed after an extra-long shift at the diner.”

“Why do you need to work all the time, Chels?” I want to get to the heart of the matter. I’d invite her to my room so we could discuss this in private but she’d probably accuse me of trying to get in her panties, and I just … I’m too exhausted to deal with that right now. Another fight, another loss. Because I would lose.

I always do.

“My dad’s a thief. He embezzled money from his job for years. They trusted him. We all trusted him.” Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, and I lean in closer to hear her. “He’s also a cheater and a liar. He’s in jail. Prison, really. He’s used my mom forever, always promising he’ll take care of her when really he just stomps all over her heart and leaves it to bleed. I hate him. I also … I hate it when she believes him. When she talks about how bad men are and how much she hates them, then turns around and takes him back. Every single time, she does that. I don’t know why. I don’t get it.”

My heart aches for her. I hear the pain and anguish in her voice and it’s fucking killing me.

I grab her by the upper arms and pull her in close, hold her to me as she presses her face into my shirt. She feels so good, so damn right back in my arms, but I hold her loosely. Not wanting to scare her or make her run.

I need her here. With me.

“Mom always says men shouldn’t be trusted. That she’s pushed my father out of her life forever. But of course, she’s talking to him again and he wants her to withdraw money out of some secret account he has. It’s probably more money he stole. He embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars, Owen. He did it for years. And he cheated on my mom, had endless affairs with an endless list of women. I hate him so much.”

She’s crying, getting my shirt wet, and I let her. Let her get it all out as I hold her to me, one hand in her hair, the other smoothing down her back. I can’t believe she’s here, standing with me outside in front of my house while inside, all around us, there’s a party raging on.

“Why does she keep doing that? Why does she trust him when he’s done nothing but lie and cheat and steal? He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love me. My dad only loves himself.”

I could get that. Mom is the exact same way. She’s the most selfish person I’ve ever known.

“I want you to trust me, Chels,” I tell her, my voice soft as I press my hand to the small of her back, pushing her in closer. I want her to feel safe with me and never doubt me again. “I swear on my life I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”

When she slips her arms around me, offering the smallest nod as her answer, I almost want to shout with relief. She belongs with me and I need to prove that I’m worthy of her. That I love her.

Because I do.

“Let’s go inside,” I whisper in her hair, my arms tightening around her.

“Nice party, Owen,” she says, the sarcasm thick, displaying a hint of the old Chelsea. “I bet there’s someone in your room right now.”

“There’s a lock on the door. No one is in my room. And if someone is, I’ll kick them the fuck out.” I thread my fingers through her hair and tilt her head so she has no choice but to look at me. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Come inside with me, Chelsea. We can talk more now or we can talk more tomorrow. Whatever you want. I just … I really need to be with you tonight.”

She stares at me, seeing right through me I’m sure but I don’t even flinch. Everything I am, everything I want to be for her, it’s showing. I can feel it. I’m vulnerable as fuck and I don’t care.

“All right,” she finally says, sounding reluctant, which of course fills me with worry. I don’t want to ruin this or somehow fuck it up beyond repair.

I need to be careful. I need to make this work. For my sake and for Chelsea’s.

We need each other. I don’t know if Chelsea’s aware of it yet, but I know I am. Having her here with me makes everything right again. Makes me feel like I can breathe again. These few weeks apart from her have nearly killed me.

There’s no way I can let her go now.

Chelsea

Everybody at this party is beyond obnoxious. I see the way the girls look at Owen as we walk by them and they make me feel possessive. I want to shout at all of them, Back off, he’s mine!

But I don’t. I have at least some sort of control.

I grab hold of his hand when we enter his house and let him pull me through the crowd. The girls are all dressed to impress, their hair and makeup perfect, the tight or skimpy outfits they’re wearing meant to intrigue and entice.

I’m in leggings that have a hole in the inside seam and the sweatshirt Owen gave me, with a tank top and no bra on underneath. I look plain and boring, as if I just crawled out of bed after a night of no sleep. Tired and sad, with a tear-stained face and red eyes. Not that I think anything’s going to happen between Owen and me tonight, but …

You never know. If he tried something, I wouldn’t stop him.

Everyone looks at me as if I don’t belong with him, but I know the truth. We belong together. He’s mine and I’m his. Somehow we’re going to break down each other’s last, thick walls and be honest with each other. I already told him so much, pretty much all he needs to know. What more can I say about my father?

Nothing. I don’t want to talk about him. I just want to forget.

The house reeks of beer and weed and I wrinkle my nose, raising my brows when we pass by Des. He has a knowing smile on his face and his arms around two girls, and I almost want to laugh. It’s all just so … weird. Owen’s life. Mine. And how they intersected. We are complete opposites.

Yet it feels so right to be with him.

“Well, well, look who showed up.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Wade standing there, a big grin on his handsome face. His hair is a mess and there’s a girl hanging on his arm with a satisfied smile curling her lips, her eyes kinda hazy. Like maybe she was the one who just had her hands in his hair.

“Hey,” I say, just as Owen’s fingers tighten around mine.

“Leave her alone,” Owen warns and I look at him, wondering what his comment is all about.

“Just saying hey.” Wade leans forward, as if he’s about to tell me a giant secret. “He’s been a whiny baby for days. He missed you.”

My heart swells. Owen missed me. Hearing someone else say it somehow makes it feel even more real.

“Shut up,” Owen mutters, solidifying that real feeling.

That this is real between us. What we share, what we have, isn’t all one-sided. We’re definitely in this together.

“Don’t fuck up with her again,” Wade says, pointing his finger in Owen’s direction before flashing me a gentle smile. “She actually tolerates your ass, so don’t let her go.”

I release Owen’s hand and go to Wade, pulling him into a quick one-sided hug since the girl still hasn’t let him go. And he doesn’t seem too upset about it, either. “Thank you,” I murmur as I pull away from him.

“See how sweet she is? You don’t deserve her, man,” Wade says, gesturing at Owen, who looks ready to rip him apart with his bare hands. “She even hugged me.”

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t chop your hands off for touching my girl.” Owen slings his arm around my shoulder and steers me away from Wade. I can hear Wade laugh, hear the girl ask what all that was about, but the buzz in my head slowly takes over, until all I can focus on is Owen.

Holding me, guiding me through the mess, getting all jealous and calling me his girl.

I love it. Maybe an hour ago I felt like I was at the end of my rope. Everything about this night is exaggerated and crazy and over the top. I feel like I’m on a ride at Disneyland or some crazy amusement park and I’m begging them to let me off. It’s all just too much.

Finally we’re in Owen’s room and he closes the door. Turns the lock. That subtle click rings loud in the quiet confines of his room and he faces me, leans against the door so he can study me.

“My mom is a drug abuser. A drunk.”

His words are flat, his tone impassive. I wait for him to continue.

“She’s never been there for us, not really. I always wanted her approval. When we were alone, she told me I was her favorite. I was her baby boy. And I wanted to be her baby boy. I wanted her to love me. I don’t think she ever did.”

My heart hurts and I can feel tears forming in my eyes, but I blink them away.

“When I was fourteen, she left. Just one night packed up all our shit, left only my clothes and Fable’s and took off. We didn’t hear from her for a year.” He takes a deep breath, as if he needs it for strength. “She called me one day. Out of the blue. Begged me not to tell Fable. Asked me to come live with her. I wanted to. Despite everything she’d done to me I wanted it so bad.

“First she just said she wanted us to live together here in town. Then she started talking about moving away. Out of the state. Across the country. She wanted a fresh start. The idea of leaving Fable like that, and Drew … it scared me. I went to Fable and told her everything. They got in a huge fight and Mom left. Four years later she finds me. I don’t know how, but she showed up awhile ago and I … I’ve been helping her the only way I know how.”

“Owen.” My voice cracks and his gaze meets mine, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You can’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s all on her. It’s not your fault your mom is so hateful and selfish.”

“Try telling that to my fourteen-year-old self.” He thumps the back of his head against the door and gazes at the ceiling. “She’s in jail now, you know. Like your dad. Well, county jail. Fable called the cops that night. Turns out she had warrants out for her arrest. I was so pissed at my sister for doing that. She put our mom in jail.”

Their mother put herself in jail, but I decide not to point that out. “Are you and Fable not talking?” I ask. It would hurt me if I knew he wasn’t communicating with his sister. Just break my heart.

“We’ve talked. I texted her, though she made me sweat for a few days. It’s not—perfect, but we’re trying. She’s still mad at me for dealing with Mom on my own. That I gave her drugs. That I gave her money.”

“You did what you thought you had to do.” I inhale deeply, then let it all out, trying to gather my thoughts. “I hate that you kept it from me, too. But I had my own secrets to hide. I can’t … I can’t be mad at you for that.”

He closes his eyes, presses his lips together. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Yes, you do.” My simple answer feels so freeing it lightens my heart.

His eyes crack open and he looks at me. “I don’t deserve you.”

“If you don’t deserve me then I don’t deserve you.”

“Chels …” His voice drifts off and he sounds so sad, so defeated, I can’t take it any longer.

I stand in the middle of his room, wondering if I should just go for it. I missed him so much these last few weeks. My body still aches for his and now it’s even worse. When he held me outside, my knees had grown wobbly and I thought I would collapse, it felt so perfect to finally be back in his arms.

Now he’s suffering and it feels like he’s doing it alone. He’s too far away from me. I want to touch him. I need to touch him.

Deciding to hell with it, I reach for the hem of my sweatshirt and pull it up and over my head, tossing it onto the floor. I’ve done this before; this very moment reminds me of the night in the hotel room, our first night together. When we were naked and vulnerable and afraid, but still happy that we were in this together. We had each other.

He needs to know he still has me.

Owen’s eyes are wide after I threw off my sweatshirt, but he doesn’t move from where he’s standing. Doesn’t say a word, either.

He just watches. And waits.

Leaning over, I pluck off my boots, tossing them near the bed. Standing straight, I grab hold of the waistband of my yoga pants and shimmy out of them, letting them fall to my feet so I can kick them off.

“Chels.” Owen says my name again, then clears his throat, his expression full of slumberous, hungry desire. He wants me. I can see it. I can practically smell it. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ve missed you.” I say nothing else, just let those simple words hang in the air as I whip off my tank top and expose my upper body completely. A strangled noise falls from his lips and heady, powerful pleasure swamps me, makes my knees weak.

I’m clad in only my turquoise-blue panties, with a little white bow at the center of the waistband. When I wear them I usually feel like a little girl, but I definitely don’t feel like one now. Not while standing in the middle of Owen Maguire’s bedroom with nothing else on but these panties, my breasts heavy, my nipples hard, and between my legs I can feel myself grow slick and hot.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he finally says, his voice rough. “So damn much.”

“I want you.” Glancing behind me, I start to make my way to his bed and suddenly he’s right there before me. His big hands grasp my waist, fingers pressing into my skin as he guides me down onto the bed, before he whispers against my lips.

“I want you, too. You’re my fucking everything.”

His words wash over me and I close my eyes, my breath catching in my throat when he kisses me. His full, delicious lips are finally on mine again and I want to cry.

But I don’t. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close. Spread my legs and feel him settle between them, his jeans rough against my bare skin, his belt buckle biting into the tender flesh just above my panties.

I help him shed his clothes and he takes off my panties, slipping them down my legs with shaky fingers that skim along my skin, his mouth on my breasts, his hand settling between my thighs. I’m so wet for him it’s almost embarrassing, but before I can push him away or say something stupid, he rears up on his knees, leans over me, and pulls a condom from the bedside table drawer.

“I can’t wait. I want to be inside you too much.” He rolls the condom on and then he’s over me, inside me, filling me completely.

This is what I want. What I need. He feels so good inside me, so right. We’re not perfect, but we’re a perfect fit for each other. It’s all or nothing with Owen and me—and nothing is too hard for us to bear.

So I want it all. Everything. With Owen.

He rolls us over so I’m on top and he tugs the band from my hair so it falls past my shoulders in a riotous mess. “Ride me,” he whispers, his eyes glowing, his expression full of an unnamed emotion I don’t want to label.

Not yet. It’s too soon. It all feels like too much.

I do as he asks, sitting up and resting my hands on his hot, hard chest, my hair spilling all around me, the ends tickling my naked skin. I press my lips together and lick them as I slowly, surely start to move. Hesitant at first, but then Owen’s gripping my hips, showing me how to move, helping me establish a rhythm.

He reaches up to cup my breasts and I arch my back, sliding up and down his erection, my eyes closed. I’m lost in the feel of him. His hands on my breasts, his cock in my body, and I know without a doubt at this very moment, I’m scarily in love with Owen.

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” he whispers as he moves his hands down from my breasts to my waist, then my hips. “Your skin is so smooth, so soft.”

I open my eyes to find him staring up at me, wonder filling his gaze. I slow down, clamp my thighs tight at his hips, and slowly roll my body into his, sending him as deep as he can go.

He closes his eyes, a ragged moan escaping him, and I increase my pace, eager to find my orgasm and give him his, too. I want it. I want mine and I want his. Together.

I want it all.

Falling on top of him, I pump my hips, my mouth at his ear as I whisper how much I want him, how much I need him.

“Chelsea.” His hands are at my back, holding me tight, and then I feel him tense beneath me, his hips lifting. I know he’s close. So, so close and so am I, but I want to help him along.

“I’m in love with you,” I murmur just before I kiss his throat, his jaw, his cheek. “I love you, Owen. So much.”

A choked sound escapes him and he grips my backside, pulling me in so close to him I cry out, my orgasm coming out of nowhere as my clit brushes against the length of him, setting me on absolute fire. My body trembles, my belly clenches as I cling to him, as he clings to me.

This moment … I never, ever want to forget. Making love with Owen in his room while a wild party rages on in his house. We’re locked away in our own little world, where the only things that exist are him and me.

That’s all that matters. Owen and Chelsea.

Chelsea and Owen.

Together.