Page 96 of Edged
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He tried to pull his hand out of mine, but I held on tighter.
“If you don’t see how unmistakably and uncontrollably in love with you I am, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
“And what am I supposed to do with that?” Owen raised our joined hands into the space between us, his fingers clamped as solidly around my hand as mine were around his. “With this?”
“Be with me.” I took the time to enunciate every word so there could be no confusion as to what I wanted from him. What I wantedforhim.
“How?” His voice cracked on the single syllable, taking my heart with it.
“Come to California,” I told him. “Move in with me, or let Grayson find you an apartment of your own. You can get a job. My friends already adore you and we can finally just be together.”
I hadn’t even finished speaking before Owen started to shake his head, one tear, then another sliding down his cheek. Using the thumb on my free hand, I wiped them away, fighting the urge to pop the digit into my mouth for a taste. I’d already tasted his spit, his sweat, his cum, and it felt appropriate to add tears to the mix, but I didn’t. I had to believe I would get another chance to lick them from his cheeks.
“I have a job here,” he said. “I have friends…I have a friend.”
“Frankie.” I remembered him from the call in the car, and I knew from the way Owen had handled him how much he meant.
“Frankie,” he agreed.
“You can get a new job. Frankie can come visit,” I said. I hoped the fact I had a private jet at my disposal hadn’t been lost on him in the less than twenty-four hours that we’d been apart.
“Youcan get a new job,” he shot back, eyes squinting into angry and narrow slits. “Yourfriends can come visit.”
“Are you asking me to move back home, Owen? Because I will. Don’t fucking tempt me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Nothing means shit to me if I don’t have you.” I stretched my fingers apart and shook out of his grasp. Blood rushed through my hand from all the places his grip had been restricting it, and as I stood, I shook my hand out at my side. “My house, my job, my friends, mylife. It’s inconsequential now if you’re not a part of it.”
I realized, as I raised my voice at him, just how tired I was.
I hadn’t really slept at all after he left and before he left…well, I hadn’t slept much then either because I’d done everything in my power to get my fill of him in the few days we had together. I was fairly certain the last thing I’d eaten was spray cheese, and maybe a handful of peanuts on the plane. I was running on fumes, and for the very first time since I’d seen Owen again, I was scared.
It was an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling that curled itself around the base of my spine, threatening to unfurl its tendrils and spread through my body like tentacles. The fear would paralyze me, which might be better than the alternative because running and acting too quick wouldn’t get me anywhere good either.
“You don’t even know what you’re saying,” Owen muttered, and I spun on the balls of my feet to come back face to face with him.
“That’s where you’re wrong because, for the very first time, it’s all clear.” I tapped my temple in demonstration. “Everything makes sense for the first time.”
“You’re thirty years old, Archie. You can’t just give up your whole life and move back here.”
“Of course I can.”
Owen snorted and rolled his eyes, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. He studied the ceiling like he’d find the answers there, and I sat back down beside him with an exhausted grunt.
“What’s the point of this?” he finally asked, voice barely louder than the hum of the lights.
“Who says there’s supposed to be a point? I love you, Owen. Can’t that be enough?”
He pressed a hand to the front of his chest with a pained grimace.
“Everything hurts right now, Archie.” Owen twisted his eyes shut and rubbed his sternum until the tension started to leak out of his expression.
There was only one time in my life I’d ever felt as helpless and I’d been seated in the same spot in the same room, but back then Owen had writhed on top of me, all desperate and sad, and I felt all of those things and more.”
“How can I help you?” I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from his chest. “How can I stop it?”
