When I got rejected from my first choice of colleges, Owen brought me ice cream, hugged me, and told me their loss would be some other school’s gain. Knox texted me.Good. That place was full of pretentious assholes anyway. You’re better than them.
Those were the easy days. The days when the worst thing that happened was a rejection letter.
Then came my freshman year of college, when everything fell apart. When I had to withdraw mid-semester, when walkinganywhere in Ashford meant enduring stares and whispers that followed me like a shadow.
Owen drove three hours to help me pack up my dorm room. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t make me talk about it. He just showed up, his presence a shield of normalcy I soaked up like an arid sponge.
Knox called me that night. “So what? Let them talk. They’re all cowards who’ve never had to fight for anything. Besides, you’re a Thorne. Act like it.”
That was before we knew my father’s mistakes would destroy both our families. Before Knox learned that standing up for me meant betraying his own blood.
After that, he never looked at me the same way again.
I manage to eat the fully cooked edges with the help of extra syrup while Owen cleans the kitchen. I even answer the questions he fires off.
“Did you get the tickets last night?”
“Yes.”
“All four?”
“Yes.”
“What about the line skipper passes?”
“Uh huh.”
My head is floating somewhere above the popcorn ceiling while a boulder sinks my gut to the floor. The resulting feeling is jarring as hell.
“Knox is such a dick when he has to wait in line. You already know…”
Owen goes on, his rambling letting me know that I’m not the only nervous one. My ever confident boyfriend’s nerves rarely show. I guess the year of decreased family contact has affected him too.
He wraps his arms around my shoulders, solid weight pressing in from behind, breaking me from my thoughts. Hiswarm breath tickles my ear, the combination of sugary syrup and earthy coffee still lingering. And just like that, I’m whole again.
“Have I told you that I love you?”
I laugh against his freshly-shaven cheek. “Maybe once or twice.”
He brushes a warm kiss on my temple and glides his fingers along my bare upper arm, trailing up to massage my shoulders. “That’s all, huh? I guess I’ve been slacking.”
“Yup. I’ve been this close to putting in a complaint with the manager.” I pinch my thumb and index finger together to show an inch of space. “Employee is lacking on his words of affirmation. I suggest a demotion.”
He tilts my head back so I’m looking at his upside down face, his eyes crinkled in jest. “Not the manager! She’s a tyrant. How about I offer a compromise?”
“I’m listening.”
He leans in closer, touching his lips to mine. “What if I show you instead of tell you? Actions speak louder than words and all that.”
“Hmm.” I pretend to consider it, fighting back a smile. “I don’t know. That sounds like the same excuse you gave last time you were underperforming.”
“Underperforming?” A warm laugh grazes my mouth. “That’s a serious accusation, Miss Thorne. I might need to defend my honor.”
“Your honor or your ego?”
“Hmm? Both.” He kisses me deeper, slow and sweet, tasting like syrup and coffee and home. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft. “Better?”
“Getting there,” I tease, even though my body feels like I’ve been sitting under a heat lamp and my heart is practicing acrobatics.
