41
Rio
IT TOOK ME A MOMENTto be sure I wasn’t dreaming him. His touch.
Opening my eyes and finding Owen there was almost too much to take in.
A cocktail of emotions ricocheted inside me—relief, disbelief, and love. So much love.
I was too groggy to fully grasp that he’d flown here even before he knew about Walter, too exhausted to ask why.
All that mattered was that he was here. And when he pulled me into his arms, I let myself sink into him, absorbing the strength in his hold, swathing myself in his warmth, his scent.
His steady heartbeat under my cheek soothed the raging turmoil inside me. A turmoil that had begun not just since he left. No—before that. From the moment he first arrived months ago. Maybe even before that.
I listened to his heartbeat. Held on. Told myself to not let go.
Time blurred. I had no idea how long we stayed like that, but at some point, I became aware of the world waking uparound us—soft footsteps, the first chirps of birds, the low hum of traffic outside.
I opened my eyes to find the sky shifting from dull gray to pink.
Owen and I were cocooned together, a tangle of limbs. I had no idea where I ended and he began.
He stirred, and I could feel him inhaling the scent of my hair.
We straightened up.
“What time is it?” he rasped, barely opening his eyes as he stretched his arms back. “These chairs are worse than stadium seats.”
“Almost six,” I said, glaring at the wall clock I’d grown to hate during the night.
“I’ll get us coffee,” Owen said, already pushing to his feet.
“You haven’t told me why you’re here. In the States. Before—”
That familiar smile appeared. “I’ll tell you everything later. Coffee first. Then we’ll check on Walter, though they probably won’t let us in before the doctors’ rounds.”
My gaze followed him. I watched—how could he make standing in front of a vending machine in a hospital waiting room look sexy? One forearm braced against the machine, those jeans hugging his ass just right, the muscles shifting beneath his Henley.
“It looks crap, but we could use the caffeine,” he said, handing me a cup.
“I assure you, it is,” I murmured, my lips hovering over the edge.
Owen took a sip and grimaced. “Ugh.” He sank down beside me. “How do you feel?”
“Tired. Worried. So happy to see you.”
He cupped the side of my face, his smile tired but teasing. “I asked howyouwere feeling, not howIwas feeling.”
I huffed a chuckle.
His gaze dropped to the brown water in his cup. “I should have been here.”
“You’re here now.” I laid a hand on his forearm.
He shook his head, lips pressing together like he appreciated the effort—but wasn’t buying it. “I saw him last night and felt so useless. The only thing I could do was be here, and I failed even at that.”
“Owen. Don’t.” The ‘O’ lingered in my throat like it had to carry the weight of everything I wanted to say. “You’re not failing anyone. Not now, not ever. You’re here, and that counts for more than you know. He’ll love seeing you.”
