It was past nine at night when my father’s men returned without anything to show for their long day’s work. I was sitting with Owen’s grandmother when they came in looking crestfallen as they scattered into the building. I didn’t ask as I already knew the answer but that didn’t stop Owen from rushing over to them and asking.
I haven’t spoken to him since the incident in the bedroom. He has been around but we’ve barely made eye contact. I didn’t know what to think or how to act around him anymore. I wanted to hate him, much like I had wanted to hate my father, but I couldn’t bring myself to think badly of him. He did what he did to protect his grandmother. I couldn’t blame him for that. I could, however, blame him for bringing romance into the equation.
“What’s on your mind?” his grandmo
