Rootbound

Chapter Fourteen: Little Deaths

The engagement party looked exactly like Leia had promised:

cheap wine, sagging fairy lights, too many folding chairs crammed into Keeley's parents' backyard.

Owen stood there like a boulder among buzzing gnats, hands shoved deep in his pockets, sunglasses hiding the fact he didn’t give a single s**t.

Leia clung to his arm, smiling too brightly, her skin a shade too pale under the high sun.

---

Keeley swooped toward them in a burst of perfume and fake laughter.

“Oh my God, you made it!” she squealed, hugging Leia tight, lingering just a second longer against Owen than politeness required.

He felt the press of her t**s against his chest.

Filed it away without emotion.

Keeley pulled back, beaming.

Chloe appeared behind her — their daughter — slim, tan, sharp-eyed in a way that made Owen vaguely proud.

No surprise Ryan wasn’t there.

He couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own goddamn birthday last year.

Engagement party?

Forget it.

Leia hugged Chloe tight, blinking too fast, her breathing already uneven.

The sticky heat clung to her skin, trapping the sick-sweet stench of old cupcakes and sweat against her body.

---

Keeley chatted on, barely giving anyone else room to speak, bubbling over about the venue, the dress, the guest list.

Leia nodded along, but Owen could feel it — the tension in her body, the wobble in her knees.

Five minutes in, she was sweating through her makeup.

Ten minutes in, she was blinking like she couldn’t quite focus.

Fifteen minutes in, she whispered, “Bathroom,” and stumbled away without waiting for an answer.

Owen watched her go.

Didn’t follow.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t care.

---

Keeley’s smile changed the second Leia was out of sight.

She leaned in close, fingers brushing Owen’s wrist lightly.

For half a second, the urge to grip her wrist too tight flared and died, like a muscle spasm. He smiled instead.

For just a flicker, her smile faltered — not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for Owen to see it. A crack running under the paint. A question she didn’t dare ask aloud.

"You look good," she murmured, voice low enough to be lost under the chatter.

Owen raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses.

Keeley smiled wider, stepping closer, pressing her body against his like it was an accident.

"I always wondered…" she breathed, voice dripping with implication.

Owen didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Keeley grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the house.

---

Inside, it smelled like overcooked chicken and desperation.

Keeley led him down a narrow hall, past a powder room, into a dim laundry room with a creaky door.

She pushed him back against the wall before he could say a word.

Dropped to her knees like she'd been planning this for years.

---

Owen watched her with clinical detachment as she worked open his jeans, pulling him free with both hands.

Her mouth was on him in seconds — hot, sloppy, desperate.

No teasing.

No seduction.

Just a messy, gulping hunger, like she was trying to suck his life out through his c**k.

Owen let his head fall back against the wall, eyes half-lidded behind the shades.

Keeley gagged around him when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved deeper, holding her there until her throat convulsed.

She whimpered.

When he came, it was sudden and brutal — thick spurts shooting straight down her throat, her nails digging into his thighs to keep from falling over.

She swallowed everything without hesitation.

Owen tucked himself back into his jeans, zipping up with a casual flick of his wrist.

Keeley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, panting.

Her eyes sparkled with something desperate.

He didn’t say thank you.

Didn’t offer a hand to pull her up.

Just turned and walked out, leaving her kneeling on the linoleum floor.

---

Outside, the party buzzed on, oblivious.

Owen snagged a beer from the cooler, popped it open with a grunt, and leaned against the patio rail like he hadn’t just f****d Keeley’s mouth raw three minutes ago.