Page 89 of Edged
“Again, do I even know you?”
He shrugged. “If Colin said something like that to me and I knew it wasn’t true, there’s no way I would let him just leave me.”
“Is Colin your boyfriend?” I asked.
Wesley nodded.
“Owen isn’t my boyfriend. He’s a man that I spent a weekend fucking, and then he got tired of my shit and wanted to go home, so home he went.”
“If we weren’t in mixed company, I would smack the shit out of you, Archer Davidson,” Flynn admonished, and I glared at him a second time for good measure.
“Sometimes getting hit is all it takes to put things into perspective,” Grayson mused.
“No one is giving me a spanking,” I snapped.
“Oh, God.” Wesley covered his face and turned away. “Were we talking about spankings? I’m so confused.”
“Owen did not want to leave you,” Flynn said.
I arched a brow, the proof of that lie visible in the gaping absence of the man in question.
“He loved you,” Flynn said, voice softer. “Loves you. He loves you more than he knows what to do with sometimes. But he loves his sister too, and he carries a lot of that burden.”
“How do you even know all of that?” I asked.
“He told me and Dalton.”
That night in the car, I realized. The three of them laughing like fucking idiots and they were talking about me the whole time? That tracked.
“What then, Flynn? What do you propose I do?”
“Put on clean clothes, for starters,” Grayson offered, not even paying attention to me. He was intensely focused on his phone, tapping away at something clearly more important than me.
Which was fair.
He slid his phone back into his pocket, and my own phone vibrated almost immediately.
“Then go to the airfield, get on that fucking plane, and go bring him home with you.”
Pulling my phone out of my pocket was a reminder that Owen had been ignoring my messages since I’d left him on the tarmac. I’d even tried to call, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Though, I supposed voicemail was a good sign because it meant he hadn’t blocked my number.
Yet.
“He’s not answering my messages and I don’t know where he lives,” I told them, tapping open the itinerary Grayson had apparently arranged on my behalf.
“Do you know where he grew up?” Flynn asked.
I thought of the long summers and that final goodbye in the basement of Owen’s childhood home and nodded.
“That’s where his sister lives. He told us."
“No.” I shook my head, letting my phone call onto my thigh. “I’m not going to Mandy’s house to look for Owen.”
“If you want to be with him, you’re going to have to talk to her eventually,” Flynn said. “You might as well get her blessing off the bat.”
“She hates me.”
“How do you know?”
