Page 90 of Owen

He’s a beautiful man, with a beautiful heart, giving and kind. Although he still doesn’t believe it when I tell him.

He’s not a worthless piece of shit like his mother would have him believe.

But she doesn’t know Owen the way I do.

I trail my fingertip down the length of Owen’s nose, then over the wide cupid’s bow of his lips, and his mouth twitches as my soft touch tickles his skin.

But then there is that question that has been rolling about in my head like a bag of marbles.Does Owen want to return?He assures me he is happy; however, a huge chunk of his life was that town.

Only time will tell, I guess.

I close my eyes and snuggle into his broad chest as he drapes his arm around my waist, pulling me in closer to him as my head tucks under his chin.

Heaven.

Not meaning to, because it’s nearly time for me to get up, I must doze off for a few minutes, still exhausted from last night’s bedroom antics. When Owen’s loud phone splits the silence, we both jolt awake from the uninvited noise.

Groaning, he turns over onto his back, reaching for his phone that’s noisily ringing away on top of the nightstand.

Grabbing it, then lifting it above his head to see who is calling, he rubs his eyes and mumbles his sister’s name. “Camilla?”

I check the time on my phone. It’s almost seven in the morning. What is she phoning at this time for?

No good ever comes from an early morning call.

“You should answer it,” I whisper as he continues to stare at the lit-up screen and worries his bottom lip.

Hitting the accept button, he then taps the speaker icon to let me hear.

“Camilla?” he questions, sounding worried.

“Owen, come home.” His sister’s Scottish voice, faint but confident, comes through the speaker.

He groans. “I’m not doing this now.” Digging his fingertips into his sleep-filled eyes, he yawns loudly. “I knew you would be on their side.”

“You don’t understand, Owen. That’s not why I’m calling.” She goes quiet before she says, “Mom and Dad were in an accident last night.”

Instantly awake, he’s pulling the bedcovers back, swinging his legs around and standing. “What’s happened?” he asks, his fingers running through his hair mindlessly.

I sit bolt upright, my heart now thumping against my ribs.

“They were in a car crash, Owen,” she answers.

“But they are never together.”

“I know. But they were.” She states the facts, sounding as if she can’t believe it either. She continues. “A drunk driver hit them at midnight. Their car spun off the road and down the cliffside.”

I gasp, cupping my hand around my mouth as sour bile curdles in my gut at the brutality of a crash like that.

“Gideon said they were out with his father for dinner last night. It’s such a dangerous road. There are no lights up there.” Her voice is low as she gives him more details.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath.

“They’re dead, Owen.” Camilla confirms my worst fear. “They didn’t make it.”

He drops his backside onto the edge of the mattress.

I fling the comforter back and crawl across to him. From behind, I loop my arms around Owen’s waist and rest my head between his shoulder blades. “I’m here for you,” I whisper,hoping he hears me as I try to squeeze my love and comfort into him.

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