Page 119 of Ship Happens

“Well . . . I’m glad that the two of you are . . . doing whatever it is that you’re doing.” Kaitlyn chuckles, and Owen laughs with her. “And I feel like I’m going to be apologizing for a long time, but again, I am so sorry, Owen.”

“I forgive you,” Owen tells her, reaching down to take her hand. “Just, please don’t do something like this ever again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to and we won’t have any problems.”

They sit there for a little while longer. Kaitlyn shows Owen photos of the end of the trip, the wicked sunburn that Kevin came home with. Owen tells Kaitlyn a little bit about their time in Juneau, how Jacob and he managed to work their way back without—hopefully—ending up on a no-fly list.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, and it grows much cooler outside, they finally head back indoors. Jacob’s showered, and Abigail wants to figure out what’s for dinner, so they all order Burmese food from one of Jacob’s favorite places in the city. While they eat, they watch some television, and Kaitlyn throws on a few loads of laundry as she starts the unpacking process that’ll somehow still take her three weeks to finish up. But before long, Owen is holding back yawn after yawn, exhaustion settling in deep as he climbs off the couch, saying good night to everyone before he heads back to his room.

He doesn’t even intend to go to bed, not right away, at least; Owen just wants to get a head start on unpacking his own bags. Plus, a little alone time is nice.

With a single earbud in, he leaves the window open to let in a cool breeze, separating out the clothing he did and didn’t wear before he goes through his toiletry kit to make sure that everything is there. Owen’s pretty sure Kevin—or whoever packed his stuff—forgot to grab his shampoo and conditioner out of the shower, but he really can’t be angry. No doubt it’s a small miracle that those are the only things missing. And just as he’s rolled his suitcase into the closet and set his iPad and phone on their chargers, there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Owen?” Jacob’s voice is soft on the other side of the door. “Are you still awake?”

He doesn’t reply, just steps over the pile of dirty clothes to get to the door, opening it slowly to find Jacob standing there smiling.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Owen smiles right back at him.

“I, uh . . . What are you up to?”

“Is that really what you’re asking me?” Owen says playfully, leaning against the door. Fitzwilliam takes his chance to sneak into the room.

“I tried to think of something smoother.” Jacob blushes. “But I didn’t want to assume . . .”

“Assume . . .” Owen mimics his tone, dragging the sounds out. “What, exactly?”

“Assume that you . . . wanted me to come to your room?” Jacob’s cheeks flush more as his tone turns sheepish.

“Uh-huh . . .” Owen stares at him. “And how do you think that’s going for you?”

“Poorly?” Jacob shrugs.

“I’d say so too.” Owen grins, pausing just to look at him a little longer before he pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Are you sure?”

Owen doesn’t reply; he just takes Jacob’s hand, leading him over threshold. Jacob stumbles back just long enough to close the door behind him. Fitzwilliam is already curled up on Jacob’s pillow, purring loudly even as Jacob scoops him up to situate him at the foot of the bed instead. Owen climbs under the quilt after Jacob, his body slotting perfectly next to Jacob’s.

“When are you flying back?” Owen asks.

It’s not a question he wants to ask, but it’s better to hear the answer now.

“Day after tomorrow,” Jacob replies.

“I guess we’ll just have to make the most of it,” Owen tells him, turning so that he can lay his head on Jacob’s bicep.

“You say that now, but I doubt you’ll want to leave this bed.” Jacob flexes, pulling Owen in closer.

“Maybe we’ll make it to the couch,” Owen teases, nuzzling against Jacob’s neck. “I love you.”

The words just slip out, so effortlessly, so naturally. And he doesn’t even question them, not for a second. Because it’s the truth.

Because he loves Jacob.

He really does.