Nice try. “You knew where I lived.”
He gives no response to that comeback other than a sigh. He shifts on his feet, and I finally allow my eyes to make the brave journey to his face. He actually looks very apologetic, but I know better than to trust the expression on a man’s face. The only things worth trusting are actions, and so far he hasn’t proven very trustworthy.
“I messed up,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
At least he’s not giving me an excuse. I guess it takes a little bit of honesty to be able to admit when you’re wrong, even if you aren’t very forthcoming with the why. He has that going for him.
I’m not sure when he moved this close to me, but he’s so close—really close—that to passersby it would look like either we’re in the middle of a breakup or we’re about to make out.
I step around him and begin walking again until we reach his studio. I’m not sure why I stop when we reach his door. I should keep going. I should be walking all the way to my apartment, but I’m not. He unlocks his door and glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m still here.
I shouldn’t be. I should be separating myself from what I know could be two of the best days I’ve had in a long time, but will be followed by one of the worst Mondays I’ve had in a long time.
If I spend the weekend with him, it’ll feel just like how drinking went for me last night. It’ll be fun and exciting while it’s happening and I’ll forget about everything else while I’m with him, but then Monday will come. He’ll move and I’ll have an Owen hangover that’ll be so much worse than the Owen hangover I’ll have if I would just walk away from him right now.
He opens the door to his studio and a blast of cool air surrounds me, luring me in. I look inside and then at Owen. He can see the apprehension in my eyes and he reaches down for my hand. He walks me into the studio and for some reason, I don’t resist. The door closes behind us and we’re engulfed by the darkness.
I listen for the echo of my heart, because I’m certain it’s beating loud enough to hear one. I can feel him standing close to me, but neither of us is moving. I can hear his breaths, I feel his closeness, I smell the clean scent of conditioner mixed with whatever makes him smell like rain.
“Is it the thought of spending the weekend with someone you barely know that’s making you doubt this? Or is it just the thought of spending the weekend with me in particular?”
“I’m not scared because it’s you, Owen. I’m considering it because it’s you.”
He takes a step back and my eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that I can see his face clearly now. He’s hopeful. Excited. Smiling. How can I say no to that face?
“What if I agree to just spend the day with you for right now? And we’ll go from there?”
He laughs at my suggestion, as if he thinks it’s silly that I wouldn’t want to stay the entire weekend after spending the day with him.
“That’s cute, Auburn,” he says. “But okay.”
His grin is huge when he pulls me to him. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the floor, squeezing the breath out of me. He sets me back down and pushes open the door. “Come on. Let’s go to Target.”
I pause. “Target?”
He smiles and adjusts his cap on my head as he pushes me out into the sunlight again. “I don’t have anything to feed you. We’re going grocery shopping.”
CHAPTER TEN
Owen
I’m losing track of the lies I’m telling her, and lying to someone like her isn’t normally something I would do. But I didn’t know how to tell her the truth. I was scared to let her go and scared to admit that I’m not actually moving on Monday, because the truth is, I’ll be in court on Monday. And after my hearing, I’ll be in either jail or rehab, depending on who gets his way. Me or Callahan Gentry.
When my father stopped by the studio this morning, I was careful not to say too much because I knew Auburn might be listening. But keeping my cool was harder than I thought it would be. I just wanted him to see what this is doing to me. I wanted to grab his hand and pull him up the stairs and point down at her, sleeping on my bed. I wanted to say, “Look at her, Dad. Look at what your selfishness is costing me.”
Instead, I did what I always do. I allowed the memories of my mother and my brother to talk me out of standing up to him. They’re my excuse. They’re his excuse. They’ve been our excuse for the last several years, and I’m afraid if I don’t find a way to stop using that night as my excuse, then Callahan and Owen Gentry will never be father and son again.
Nothing has made me want to stop this way of life like she has, though. As much as I’ve tried and as much as I’ve thought about it and as much as it defeats me every time my guilt wins, I’ve never felt stronger than I feel when I’m with her. I’ve never felt like I had purpose like I feel when I’m with her. I think about the first words I said to her when she showed up at my door. “Are you here to save me?”
Because are you, Auburn? It sure feels that way, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt any semblance of hope.
“Where are you going?” she asks me.
Her voice could be used as a form of therapy. I’m convinced of that. She could walk into a room full of severely depressed people and all she would have to do to heal them is open a book and read out loud.
“Target.”
She shoves my shoulder and laughs, and I’m glad to see this side of her is back. She’s hardly laughed all day.