The elevator doors close, cutting off his view. I lean against the wall, heart pounding. I’ve no idea what’s coming, but I can’t wait to find out.
4
Slade
THE DINING ROOM HUMS with conversation as we finish our lunch, but my mind is elsewhere—upstairs, where Owen waits. I take a measured sip of water, studying our group. Bryce catches my eye across the table, one eyebrow raised in silent question. He knows me too well—can sense when my attention has shifted, when I’m planning an exit. I offer him a slight shrug in response before setting my glass down. It’s time.
“The pottery session starts in twenty minutes,” Ava announces. “We should head over soon to get good spots.”
The others nod, finishing the last bites of their salads and sandwiches. I clear my throat, drawing their attention.
“I need to check in on a patient file,” I say, pulling out my phone as if I’ve just received a message. “My colleague texted—they want my opinion.”
Ava’s face falls. “Oh, but the pottery class is supposed to be one of the highlights of the weekend.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” I inject the right amount of regret into my voice—enough to be convincing without overplaying it.
“Can’t it wait?” Zara asks, looking between me and Ava.
“If it were just paperwork, yes. But it’s not, unfortunately. I’ll try to wrap it up quickly and join you.”
Bryce, bless him, jumps in. “You should handle that. Patient recoveries can go sideways fast if the orders aren’t right.”
Ava sighs, but nods in understanding. “Of course.” She reaches across the table to pat my hand. “Just try to join us if you can. I’ll save you a spot.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promise, already standing. “Don’t wait for me, though.”
I feel the weight of Bryce’s gaze as I gather my phone. When I meet his eyes, there’s a look there that makes me wonder how transparent I’m being. He’s rarely seen me like this—distracted, making excuses. It’s unlike me, and we both know it. Does he realize it’s about Owen? I can’t tell.
I exit the dining room with measured steps, not rushing despite the urgency I feel. The lobby is quiet, just a few guests milling about, studying activity pamphlets. I press the elevator button, keeping my expression neutral even as anticipation builds in my chest.
As the elevator rises, I study my reflection in the polished metal doors. I look the same as usual—controlled, composed. But something has shifted beneath the surface. This pull toward Owen feels fundamental, as if it’s always been there, dormant and waiting.
I slide the keycard into the slot, watching the indicator turn green with a soft click. I push the door open, stepping into a room filled with afternoon light. The curtains are partiallydrawn, creating bars of sunlight across the floor. And there, in the armchair by the window, is Owen.
He looks up as I enter, his posture straightening. His hair is damp, curling as it dries, suggesting a recent shower. He’s dressed simply—a soft gray t-shirt and loose navy shorts that show off his long legs. His feet are bare, one tucked beneath him on the chair.
“You came,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of surprise despite our arrangement.
I close the door behind me, engaging the lock with a decisive click. “I said I would.”
His eyes follow me as I cross the room, dropping my keycard on the dresser. I note the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl against the armrest. Nervous, but not afraid. Anticipatory.
“Did anyone suspect anything?” he asks.
“Bryce might. He knows me too well.” I move closer to his chair. “The others bought the medical emergency excuse.”
Owen nods, his gaze dropping before returning to mine. “And what exactly couldn’t wait until after pottery class?”
“I think you know.”
The flush I’ve come to anticipate creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheekbones. It’s fascinating—this physical tell that bypasses all his efforts at control.
“You followed my instruction,” I observe.
The blush deepens, spreading across his face. He doesn’t respond, but his body speaks volumes—the way he shifts in the chair, the quickening of his breath.
“You did well,” I add, watching his reaction to the praise.
