Page 82 of Breakaway Hearts

“You told him that, right?”

“Maybe a little harsher than I needed to be.” I sigh. Jason corroborated Owen’s story, so I maybe slightly overreacted.

“It’s tough,” Mike agrees. “Being the broke friend to a guy who has never not been rich, to whom money is not and will never be an issue. He and Tab can be slightly out of touch at times, but they have the biggest hearts and just want to help.”

“I’m not his friend though, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Right,” Mike agrees, like I have no idea what I’m talking about. “Do you know why we came to Wynchester?”

“It’s an Ivy League with a top-rated D1 hockey program,” I play along. Owen said he filled out a bunch of applications to come here, but they pursued Jason pretty hard when they wanted him, all he had to do was say yes.

“It is. And other top rated D1, Ivy League schools courted Owen. East Coast, West Coast, all over.”

“If this is something about fate…”

“I’m not saying he came here to meet you,” he assures me. “I’m saying this was the only school of this caliber that offered me a full ride. I could never afford this without the scholarship, and I wouldn’t allow Owen or his family to pay for me, so he convinced them to take him as well. Not that it was hard, but he gambled his entire future to honor me.”

“That’s…” I don’t know what to say.

“This might not affect you, since you’re not friends, but if you were considering it…Owen’s the most decent, loyal, honorable guy I know. And his first instinct will always be to fix whatever’s wrong, however he can, or do something nice for no other reason than it’ll make someone happy. But as long as you let him know your boundaries, he’s pretty good at following them. Or finding loopholes,” he adds with a shrug.

With that, he leaves me alone on the steps, having just made Owen that much scarier, and that much harder to say no to.

I’m still considering it when Owen shows up at the sorority mixer Tab, Sav, Bree, and I are at. I was planning to feign a huge project and leave once guys showed up, but my mind has been spinning, and if Owen is going to hurt me anyway, might as well reap the benefits before that happens.

“Need a ride home?” Jay asks me knowingly, shuffling in with the rest of the team. House parties are a trigger for me…unfamiliar houses in general, but a sorority with no boys allowed was safe until the party guests arrived. Jay knows this, so he does that thing where he furrows his brow, and I shrug. I probably couldn’t explain myself in a way that wouldn’t make this seem like a bad idea. He looks like he’s struggling, and I feel terrible.

“This is why I should have stuck to my guns and taken psychology, even after you asked me if it was just to meet girls.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Because I’m broken, and you think they would have told you how to fix me?” It’s sweet, but I doubt an Intro to Psych course would help anyone understand me.

“You’re not broken, Maddie. You’re a badass and my favorite person. I just wish I knew when I should be protecting you versus letting you spread your wings and fly.”

I want to tell him that’s not his job, but he’s been doing it for years.

“That was pathetic,” he reproaches himself the analogy. “I just wanna know if this is progress or going back to last summer,” he reiterates.

“Regression,” I supply, but he cocks his head like he’s not impressed. “I’m trying to let someone in. A little bit. On my terms. Which I think is progress compared to last summer.” But it also might break me worse than any of those guys could have.

“Am I keeping an eye on you while pretending not to?”

Telling him I’m resigned to whatever happens, but I don’t think Owen would try anything tonight – if only because he didn’t have time to prepare – doesn’t sound like something a sane person would admit to. And neither do I think he’ll be reassured if I tell him my terms are that it’s just sex. Hookups in places you can’t stay too long before someone finds you.

“No more than you would have before,” I say, swallowing against the cold sweat that pours out the back of my shoulders. “But, I mean, if you see someone dragging me upstairs…”

“Kill him, or wait for eye contact?” He’s teasing, about something really not funny, and I love him for it.

My instinct is ‘kill him’, but I know from experience I panic and make a scene as soon as someone nudges me toward a staircase, and I don’t condone murder that sends my best friend to jail, so, “Use your judgment,” I say instead.

“I know you came with Owen’s sister, but⁠—”

“I would like to go home with you. If that’s okay.”

He smiles, relief in his eyes.

“Have fun,” he says, like he really means it, not just in general.

“You too.” I urge him not to worry about me, which won’t happen when he knows me enough to see I’m doing this while scared out of my mind.