The Book of Owen

Chapter 8 Apologies

"Go and f*****g apologize," I tell my sister. "Or something. I love you. You're my sister, but what you did to Constantine is not okay."

She stares down at the carpet like it's going to give her instructions. Like the pattern woven into it somehow has all the answers she needs.

Catori knows she has to talk to Constantine.

We're staying the night because Catori somehow suckered her way into staying again. My brother is supposed to be smart, so why can't he see through her bullshit? I guess when it comes to women, maybe he's weak.

At least when it comes to the ones he actually loves.

Catori, Freya, and I are crammed into one of the spare bedrooms. Jason and Owen are here too. They were way too drunk to drive home.

Catori, however, isn't drunk at all. She could have driven us home hours ago.

I still have a slight buzz. The edges of reality feel pleasantly fuzzy.

Freya grabs one of the decorative pillows and launches it at Catori's head.

"Say something, brat."

"We're not dating," Catori mutters, like that technicality changes anything.

Freya and I exchange a look before letting out matching frustrated sighs.

"I know you're new to this," Freya says, "but you don't tell a guy you love him and then make out with another guy in front of him."

She points dramatically toward the door.

"IN HIS f*****g HOUSE."

Catori winces.

Good.

She deserves to.

Without another word, she disappears into the bathroom to change, leaving Freya and me alone.

The room falls quiet.

After a few moments, Freya rolls onto her side.

"How do you think your parents are going to react when all this comes out?"

That question sends my mind spinning.

How would they react?

Honestly, I don't know.

Our family tree looks like someone threw spaghetti at a wall and called it genealogy.

Catori and I share our mother, Elena.

Ivan Pavlov is my father.

Mason Jones is hers.

Retired heavyweight boxer. Gym owner. Giant teddy bear.

My father owns an accounting firm with his partner, Miroslav. Mom can't stand him. Neither can I.

Then there's Constantine.

Mom adopted him, but Ivan is still his biological father. Different mother. I've never met her. Constantine claims she's closer than anyone realizes. One of dad's old flings, apparently.

Then there are my youngest brothers, Archie and Ares. Their father is Liam Deveroux, retired soccer star from Barcelona FC.

Complicated.

Messy.

A little dysfunctional.

But somehow it works.

There is enough love to go around.

Even if that love occasionally arrives wrapped in emotional damage and poor decision-making.

I lean back against the headboard.

"I don't know," I admit. "It could go either way."

Freya nods.

"Whatever happens, it's definitely going to be a scandal."

She isn't wrong.

The thought should probably make me nervous.

Instead, my brain wanders somewhere much more annoying.

Owen.

Ugh.

Stop.

I close my eyes.

Doesn't help.

All it does is make me remember his stupid face.

His stupid smile.

His stupid eyes.

I wonder what he's doing right now.

The bedroom door suddenly bursts open.

Catori storms inside.

Her eyes are red.

Shit.

She's grabbing her purse and keys so fast she nearly drops them.

Freya and I both sit upright.

"What happened?" we ask in unison.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Her voice cracks.

"I just... I need to go for a drive."

Then she's gone.

The front door slams moments later.

Great.

Now she wants to be alone and we're stranded here.

I really wish I had driven myself.

I place my hand over Freya's.

"I'm going to get some fresh air."

She yawns.

"Okay. I'm going to sleep. If you decide you want to leave, wake me up. We'll call a rideshare."

"Sounds good."

I slide off the bed.

The house is silent.

Most people are probably asleep.

I consider marching into Constantine's room and demanding answers.

I really do.

But some things are none of my business.

For once, I leave it alone.

I slip out of the room and move quietly through the dark house.

Down the stairs.

Past the living room.

Through the kitchen.

I don't bother turning on any lights.

I've always liked moving through darkness.

Moonlight spills through the windows, painting silver patterns across the floor. It's enough to keep me from tripping over furniture.

I slide open the glass door and step outside.

The warm night air immediately wraps around me.

I inhale deeply.

God.

I needed this.

The backyard is quiet.

The pool glows softly beneath the moonlight.

I walk around it until I reach the back fence.

The wrought-iron fence is hidden behind thick rose bushes that run the entire property line. Dense enough to provide privacy. Tall enough to look like hedges from a distance.

I reach out and brush my fingers over a bloom.

Orange and red.

Beautiful.

I love roses.

I hate that I love roses because they're such a basic flower.

I don't care.

They're perfect.

I lean closer and breathe in their scent.

Then immediately worry there might be bugs hiding inside.

A laugh slips out of me.

Sometimes I'm such an i***t.

I pull a pre-roll from my pocket and stick it between my lips.

A moment later it's lit.

I inhale.

Exhale.

No coughing.

Progress.

The silence settles around me.

I tilt my head back and look toward the stars.

There aren't many visible from here.

Still.

I look.

"I didn't know you smoke."

My eyes close.

Owen.

Of course.

I look over my shoulder as he emerges from the shadows near the outdoor kitchen.

For a second, relief hits me before irritation crushes it.

"Do you often hide in dark corners like a stalker?"

He laughs.

God, I hate his laugh.

Not because it's bad.

Because it's dangerous.

His real laugh does things to me.

His deep voice sends little ripples down my spine.

"Only when I'm stalking you."

The amusement in his voice makes me roll my eyes.

I rub my hands together instinctively.

The joint hangs from my lips.

He steps closer.

Too close.

Close enough that I can feel his heat.

Close enough that every nerve ending in my body wakes up.

We're alone.

It's dark.

And suddenly my heart forgets how to behave.

"What's your favorite color rose?" he asks quietly.

"I don't like roses."

His eyebrow lifts.

"Are you trying to lie to me or yourself?"

A smile tugs at my mouth despite myself.

I immediately want to slap him.

Or choke him.

I haven't decided which.

I turn to face him.

Bare chest.

Dark sweatpants.

The waistband of his boxers peeking out.

I am in serious trouble.

Owen reaches over, takes the joint from my fingers, and takes a drag.

I watch him.

Big mistake.

His muscles flex.

His skin looks smooth.

My brain completely short-circuits.

He exhales slowly.

Then takes my hand.

I immediately try to pull away.

He doesn't let go.

Instead, he takes both my hands and starts rubbing them gently.

His thumbs move across my palms.

Warm.

Soft.

Patient.

My stomach twists.

I've missed this.

Missed him touching me.

Missed the familiarity of it.

The realization hits harder than I want it to.

Snap out of it.

"I'm sorry about—"

"Shut up, troll. I don't want your s**t apologies."

I pause.

Then force the words out.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

The silence that follows is deafening.

I actually apologized.

To Owen.

His eyes widen slightly.

Then a smile appears.

Not smug.

Not teasing.

Just... happy.

Like I broke his brain.

Before he can enjoy it too much, I narrow my eyes.

"You really are losing muscle definition. Slacking at the gym or drinking too much?"

His laughter explodes out of him.

Then, before I can react, he grabs both my hands.

And places them on his chest.

My breath catches.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

He slides my hands downward.

Over hard muscle.

Over his abs.

Oh.

God.

His eyes close.

Like he's enjoying this entirely too much.

My hands feel like they're on fire.

"What are you doing out here?"

Jason's voice cuts through the darkness from the patio door.

I freeze.

Owen stiffens.

"Peeing," he calls back casually.

I glare at him.

"Don't you f*****g dare. I am not in the mood for a golden shower."

Jason starts laughing.

Owen does too.

But he doesn't move away.

Instead, he subtly shifts his body, shielding me from view.

"I'll be right in," he says. "You and Constantine done doing your thing?"

Jason mutters something unintelligible before disappearing back inside.

The patio door slides shut.

Silence returns.

Owen still hasn't let go of my hands.

Something deep inside me twists.

I don't know why.

Maybe it's the weed.

Maybe it's the alcohol.

Maybe it's him.

My hands slide lower.

Past his stomach.

Past the hard line of muscle.

Until my fingertips brush the exposed waistband of his boxers.

Every muscle in his body locks.

His eyes open.

Dark.

Hungry.

Dangerous.

"f**k," he whispers.

Then Owen takes a step closer.

My back presses against the roses.

The scent surrounds me.

His hand slides to my waist.

Heat explodes through my entire body.

Every instinct screams at me to move.

After what seems like forever, I shove him away because he is not getting me this easy.

Not while his eyes wonder still.