Chapter Twenty-Six — “The Beautiful Betrayl"
406 Words
The rejection —
Beth’s polite, sickly-sweet dismissal —
still burned under his skin like acid.
He wasn’t some washed-up loser.
He wasn’t invisible.
He wasn’t old.
He was still Owen Cole.
Still a man.
---
The house smelled like sickness and stale air when he pushed through the door.
Leia was bundled on the couch under a mess of blankets, coughing wetly into a crumpled tissue.
"Hey, baby," she rasped, her voice shredded.
Owen grunted.
Dropped his keys onto the counter with a sharp clatter.
Leia struggled to sit up straighter, wincing as she moved.
"I missed you today," she said, smiling weakly.
Owen didn’t answer.
Didn’t even look at her.
He went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, cracked it open with one brutal twist.
Leia kept talking.
About the soup she managed to heat up.
About Chloe texting to check in.
About maybe trying to sit outside for a little fresh air tomorrow if she felt strong enough.
Her voice droned on and on —
thin, brittle, insistent.
Like a f*****g mosquito buzzing in his ear.
---
Owen sipped his beer slowly.
Let the noise blur into nothing.
---
He pulled out his phone.
Scrolled absently.
Paused at Keeley’s last message.
The shirtless picture.
The smirk— he smirked.
Thumbed out a quick reply:
> "Bet you’re still thinking about me."
Three dots popped up almost immediately.
Keeley was waiting for this.
Starving for it.
---
Her response hit hard:
> "I am. Lying naked in bed right now.
Fingers between my legs.
Thinking about your hands instead."
A second later —
Another photo.
Not fully explicit.
Just enough.
Her bare thighs spread, one hand sliding low, the soft curve of her body barely hidden by shadows and sheets.
Owen's c**k stirred instantly.
Keeley’s next message:
> "Come over. I’m soaked for you.
I don’t want to come alone."
---
Owen’s heart thudded once, hard and slow.
He drained the rest of his beer.
Turned toward Leia, who was still talking about the dumb f*****g blanket she wanted to order online or whatever stupid s**t she thought mattered.
Her voice cracked mid-sentence, collapsing into another coughing fit.
Owen smiled to himself.
---
He waited.
Waited until she finally dozed off on the couch, her breath rattling like broken gears.
Waited until the TV hummed a soft, static lullaby no one was watching.
Then, without a sound, he grabbed his jacket.
Slipped out the door.
- Writer
