“Okay.” I stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
He moved past me, and the warmth of him seemed to fill the space as he walked into the foyer. I found myself watching the way his shoulders moved beneath his hoodie, the casual confidence in his stride, even when carrying a pizza box.
“So do we pretend that night never happened?”
The question stopped me in my tracks. I closed the door behind us, the lock clicking into place with a finality that felt significant.
I laughed, but it came out strangled, somewhere between humor and pain. “I don’t think that’s possible.” I moved past him toward the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands. “It happened, and it will always be our little secret, I guess.”
The kitchen was dark except for the light spilling in from the hallway. I flicked on the overhead lights, wincing slightly at the sudden brightness. The granite countertops gleamed, spotless and unused. Everything in here was spotless and unused. I opened the fridge, the cold air washing over me as I grabbed a bottle of Coke and a Dr. Pepper.
I turned around to hand him his drink and found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. That infuriating smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to be my dirty little secret?”
I shrugged, shoving the Dr. Pepper into his hand, my fingers brushing against his for just a second. The contact sent a small shock through me that I tried to ignore. “I’m not. You’re mine.”
Owen’s smirk widened into something more genuine as a flush crept up his neck above the collar of his hoodie.
“Fair enough,” he said quietly.
We ended up on the living room floor with the pizza box open between us because it felt wrong to sit at the formal dining table or the breakfast bar like actual adults having an actual meal…
Owen sat with his back against the couch, one knee bent, the other leg extended. I sat cross-legged across from him, close enough that my foot occasionally brushed against his calf when I shifted position.
The pizza was good, with hot cheese and pepperoni, the kind of greasy comfort food that somehow made everything feel less overwhelming. I’d already demolished two slices and was eyeing a third when the realization hit me.
Friday night pizza.
We’d done this a million times. Every Friday night for as long as I could remember, the whole crew would pile into this living room, this exact spot, with pizza boxes and two-liters of soda and whatever movie someone had insisted we watch. Jax wouldclaim the entire couch. Kaia would curl up against him. Syn would sprawl on the floor, stealing everyone’s crusts. Trystan would argue with Owen over the best pizza toppings. I would be right here, in the middle of it all, surrounded by noise and laughter, and I didn’t realize how much I loved it until now.
Now it was just the two of us in a house that felt three times too big.
A comfortable silence settled between us as we ate. Not awkward, surprisingly. Just… quiet.
Owen reached for another slice. He’d kicked off his shoes at some point, leaving them by the front door, and his socked feet were close enough to mine that I could see the hole forming near his left big toe.
“It’s not the same, is it?”
His voice broke the silence so suddenly that I almost jumped. I looked up from my pizza to find him watching me, his expression softer than it had been all night. More vulnerable.
I shook my head slowly. “No. It’s not.” And it probably never would be again.
Owen took a drink from his Dr. Pepper, his throat working as he swallowed. “The quiet in this house is deafening.” He set the bottle down, twisting the cap back on. “It’s definitely different than what it used to be.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving around the room, taking in the family photos on the mantle, the throw pillows no one had fluffed in weeks, the TV remote sitting alone on the coffee table. When he looked back at me, something like concern creased his forehead.
“I don’t know how you’re staying here by yourself.” His tone was gentle, almost careful, like he was afraid of pushing too hard. “In this house. All alone.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I tried for casual and missed by a mile. “It’s my house.”
Owen must have seen something in my face because he softened. “Come stay with me.”
My head snapped up, and my brows furrowed. “What?”
“Come stay with me,” he repeated, and this time his tone was firmer. “I have a spare room. You could use it. It’s better than being here alone.”
