Owen’s chest rumbled with something that might have been a laugh. “Yeah, about that.”
I pulled back enough to look up at him, confused. “What?”
“I don’t think it wasasomeone.” His expression was somewhere between relieved and amused, which seemed wildly inappropriate given that I just had a near-death experience. “More likeasomething.”
“What are you…”
“You left the garage door and the back door open.” He reached up to brush a tear from my cheek, his thumb gentle against my skin. “A cat got in. Probably knocked something over looking for food. It bolted out the back when I came through the front.”
I stared at him.
“A cat.”
He nodded.
“I locked myself in my bathroom and called you crying because of acat?”
“In your defense, it was a very suspicious cat.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Very menacing energy. Definitely had criminal intentions.”
“Oh my God.” I dropped my forehead against his chest, mortification replacing the terror. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I made you drive all the way over here in the middle of the night because I got spooked by acat.”
“Harlow.” His hand was still on my back, his fingers tracing absent patterns against my spine. “Look at me.”
I lifted my head reluctantly, expecting to see exasperation. Maybe annoyance. The kind of look you give someone who’s just wasted your time on a false alarm.
His expression was serious. Intense. His blue eyes were dark in the dim hallway, and there was something in them that made my breath catch.
“I’m not mad,” he said quietly. “Not even close.”
“But…”
“I wasterrified.” The word came out rough. “When you called me, when I heard your voice.” He paused, taking a breath. “I’ve never driven that fast in my entire life. I was terrified I was going to show up, and you were going to be hurt. Or worse.” His jaw tightened. “So no, I’m not mad that it turned out to be a cat. I’m relieved. I’m so fucking relieved I can barely breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say.
“Stop apologizing.” He exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Go pack a bag.”
“What?”
“For tonight. You’re staying with me.”
I blinked up at him, sure I misheard. “Owen, that’s… You said you wanted space. You said we needed to keep our…”
“Harlow.” He closed the remaining distance between us, and suddenly there was no space at all, just his body pressed against mine, his hands on my waist, his face inches from mine. “I don’t give a fuck about space.”
My heart stopped. Started again. Stopped.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “You’re not staying here alone. You’re moving in with me until your dad gets back.”
“Owen…”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“But…”
“Pack a bag.” He stepped back, and the loss of his warmth was almost physically painful. “I’ll wait downstairs. Make sure no more criminal cats have infiltrated the premises.”
