Page 95 of Edged
“You’re not over it because you’re still in love with him and he’s in love with you, and…” She stood up and adjusted the strap of her purse over her arm before going to the door and sliding her feet back into her flip-flops.
“And what, Mandy?”
“I’m meeting Mark for dinner and we aren’t going to be home until late.”
I blinked slowly, trying to decide if she’d been body-snatched or if I had just imagined the whole conversation we’d had up to that moment.
“That doesn’t feel relevant to this conversation,” I said.
The doorbell broke me out of the stupor, and Freddie rushed past me.
“Finally. That must be dinner.”
I stared blankly at the door while he collected the bag of food and paid the delivery driver. He carried everything into the kitchen and started separating the food out onto the counter.
“And Archie is at the house,” Mandy said quietly, sending a rash of gooseflesh down the back of my neck.
“I don’t know what that has to do with me.”
“Everything, Owen. It has everything to do with you.”
CHAPTER29
ARCHIE
The basement hadn’t changed muchin ten years.
Mandy had replaced the furniture, but the couch was still about five years too old to be current. The TV mounted on the far wall was obviously the model before the one that graced the mantle in the living room. How a place could be so much the same and so different at the same time was beyond me, but I took my time and pondered it while I stared at my reflection in the dark mirror surface of the screen.
After Mandy and I finished talking, she’d told me to go downstairs and wait for Owen. I didn’t have much faith that she’d be able to get him to come talk to me, but it was worth a shot. After all, I had flown all the way across the country to talk to him.
No, I was tired of all the lying.
I’d flown across the country to bring him home with me.
The front door opened and my heart flew into my throat. I wanted to jump up and meet Owen at the stairs, but if it wasn’t him…
Footsteps grew louder and the door to the basement opened, and I’d know the sound of him anywhere. The way he carried himself. Owen slowly descended into the basement, stopping when he reached the carpeted floor.
“This is a change,” he said.
I allowed myself to look over my shoulder. The basement was relatively dark, the lamp from when we were kids in the corner casting an orange glow for a few feet before falling into shadow. But I could still make out his features, the puffiness around his eyes. He’d been crying, which meant all hope wasn’t yet lost for me.
For us.
“I have to admit I hate it.”
He chuffed out a sad laugh and came to sit next to me on the couch, falling into the already well-worn cushions with a sigh. “I don’t have a letter for you this time.”
“That’s probably better.” I flipped my hand palm up onto my thigh, and without much delay or thought, Owen threaded his fingers into mine. I grabbed him back, tight, staring down at the way his tattoos and tanned hands contrasted with my paler skin.
“It just ruined things last time.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It gave me the best gift of my life.”
“Shut the fuck up, Archie.”
I tugged his hand and turned to face him. “It’s true. You and…I’d go back if I could, you know. I’d handle it differently. At least, I like to think I would. But I can’t imagine living the life I’ve lived and knowing you the way I do now and not fighting a little harder.”
