I didn’t miss the way he squeezed Owen’s hand—his usual snark softened by small gestures that spoke louder than words.
“Something like that,” Owen said. “I wanted to see you both.”
It was the first time he’d admitted to Walter that there was something between us beyond friendship. I never told him that Walter had guessed it already. Hechoseto tell him.And that meant something—I wasn’t sure what yet, but we weren’t a secret anymore. This was real.
“You can tell Sir Whatshisname that—”
“Walter, we don’t want the monitor to start beeping, right? They’ll kick us out. Let’s leave all of that for later,” I said quickly.
“Fine, fine,” he muttered. Then, shifting his gaze to me, he added, “Water my plants, will you, Rio?”
“Of course.”
A nurse appeared behind us. “We need to serve breakfast now, so if you can please come back during visiting hours.” She had already started opening the curtains around the other beds.
“We’ll be back later,” Owen said. “Be good, yeah? Don’t raise hell for anyone.”
Walter smirked, then glanced at me, tipping his head toward Owen. “Wonder Boy is giving me instructions.” There was no snark in his tone this time, just warmth, like turning to me made it easier to hide the emotions he wasn’t ready to show Owen directly.
“Here’s your phone,” I said, placing it on his bed. “Finn brought your bag over last night.”
“Oh, he’s a good man. Tell him it’s not his fault my pulse decided to act up.”
Funny how he could voice appreciation for Finn so easily, but with Owen, it was harder—too real, too overwhelming.
I understood that feeling all too well.
We stepped out into the cool morning air, heading toward the parking lot.
“Meet you at the house?” I asked.
“Oh, right. Two cars.” He gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Meet you there.”
“Just don’t clog the lane with that monstrosity,” I teased, looking at the Range Rover, which was black this time.
Owen didn’t answer with words. Instead, he held my wrist, drew me closer, and wrapped me entirely in his arms before kissing me—right there, in the middle of the asphalt lot, between rows of parked cars.
We held each other tight for a long moment.
The taste of him, the feel of him—God. I didn’t care if he’d come back to stay or if he’d leave again. All that mattered was this. Him. Here. Now.
42
Owen
WE LEFT AT A GOOD TIMEto beat traffic, and I caught glimpses of Rio’s tiny green car ahead, steady, familiar. A beacon.
I rolled down my window all the way,letting the ocean air rush in, sharp and salty. It filled my lungs, clearing the last remnants of airport terminals, stale cabin air, and antiseptic hospital smell.
It was good to be home.
Driving through Blueshore, past its familiar streets, that feeling only grew—like stepping into a place that recognized me, where I belonged. And for the first time in a long time, I did.
Still in her car, Rio gave me a little smile and jutted her chin toward the driveway when I reached the house, silently telling me to park first. She then pulled in behind me and unlocked the side door.
“God, I reek,” she muttered, peeling off her jacket. “I’m still in the same clothes I wore to work yesterday.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said, letting go of the wheeled suitcase and reaching for her.
