Page 27 of You Owe Me

That earns a half laugh. “Including you.”

“Still does,” I say. “But you stayed.”

She finally looks at me. “Yeah. I stayed.”

There’s a stretch of silence. Not awkward. Just… heavy. Comfortable in its own way.

“I’m not trying to erase anything,” I say. “I’m just trying to make space for new stuff. Better stuff.”

She blinks a few times, then nods. Not dramatic. Not sarcastic. Just… nods.

“So,”—she tips her head toward me—“are we getting snacks next, or are you going to keep emotionally manipulating me with rusty playground equipment?”

I smirk. “You mean bonding?”

“Sure. Let’s call it that.”

She pushes off again with her feet. The chains groan a little, but hold strong. Just like her.

“Okay.” Her breath catches as she lifts off the ground. “Tell me something embarrassing.”

I raise a brow. “Like what?”

She grins mid-swing. “Middle school trauma. Weird habits. Secret love of Hallmark movies. I don’t know. Give me something to mock to make me happy.”

I consider it for half a second before deadpanning, “Sometimes when you’re not home, I jerk off to that voicemail you left, threatening me when I didn’t answer your text in a timely manner.”

She balks. “You do what?”

I smirk. “You heard me.”

Her mouth drops open, but no words come out.

Which is rare. And satisfying.

“I—okay, no. You don’t get to just say that like it’s normal.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s… I mean—” She blinks at me. “That’s hot. Weird. But hot.”

“Which part?”

She gives me a look. “Don’t make me choose.”

“Would you rather I said I reorganize my sock drawer?”

“I’d rather you tell me how often you do the voicemail thing, actually.”

I flash her a smirk. “How often are you not home?”

Her eyes go wide. Pink creeps into her cheeks.

And just like that, the power shifts.

“You’re ridiculous,” she breathes.

“You asked for something embarrassing.”

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