Chapter Twenty-Nine — “Coming Home”
330 Words
The house was dark when Owen pulled into the driveway.
He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, letting the ticking sound of the cooling metal fill the silence.
His jeans were still damp with sweat and s*x.
Keeley's lipstick — smeared and desperate — was still faintly staining the inside of his shirt collar.
He smelled like her.
Like vanilla candles and betrayal.
Owen smiled to himself, small and satisfied, before stepping out into the chill night air.
---
The front door creaked open under his hand.
The house swallowed him whole without a sound.
Leia didn’t stir.
Not a whisper of movement from the bedroom.
He kicked his shoes off lazily, letting them thud against the wall.
Tossed his jacket onto a chair.
Stalked through the living room like he owned it, like it hadn't decayed into a sickroom and a tomb while he was gone.
---
The bedroom door was half-open, leaking pale, sickly moonlight onto the carpet.
Leia lay sprawled under the blankets, mouth slightly open, breathing ragged and shallow.
Sweat clung to her forehead, soaking into the pillow beneath her.
Her body looked smaller somehow —
fragile and trembling even in sleep.
---
He stripped down to his boxers, peeling off clothes stiff with Keeley’s perfume and spit and slick.
He didn’t bother showering.
Didn’t bother rinsing the evidence of his affair off his skin.
He carried it into the bed with him.
Dragged it across the threshold like a king bringing home a conquered flag.
---
Leia stirred faintly as he slid under the covers, her hand twitching weakly toward him in her fevered sleep.
Owen shifted away from her.
Claimed the cool side of the bed.
Let the space between them stretch wide and silent.
He closed his eyes, sinking into the mattress.
Breathing the scent of Keeley off his own skin as Leia coughed quietly beside him, too sick to even notice the stench of betrayal soaking into their sheets.
- Writer
