“You let me touch you,” she whispered, still a little breathless. He lifted his head to look at her.
“I’ve been wanting to try, I just… I don’t know. It seemed like the right time.”
“And you’re okay?”
“Yes,” Owen smiled. “Usually when someone touches me there, I feel anxious and panicky, but… Not you. I guess I should’ve known you’d be different.”
Lena smiled back at him and leaned up to kiss his lips softly. Once he’d slipped out of her and moved to lay beside her, he folded her into his arms and sighed happily. They lay in silence for several long moments, kissing and caressing one another. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at peace. The irony that they’d been having an argument only a half hour earlier did not escape him. Lena shifted in his arms to gaze into his green eyes, and she got lost in their depths as her mind wandered.
“Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed you into life,” she whispered. The sentiment made Owen smile, but he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Her expression wasn’t as sated and content as it had been a few minutes earlier.
“What do you mean?” he asked. A few tendrils of hair had come loose from her ponytail, and he brushed them out of her face gently. Lena pursed her lips as she considered her words carefully.
“You were exactly what I needed after my mom died. You were my safe place, and that didn’t change as I got older. Even though we weren’t together, I still thought of you. Dreamed of you. Thinking about you and, eventually, writing about you became a way to… escape.”
“Escape from what?”
“Life,” Lena shrugged against him. “Dad has always set the bar pretty high. That’s not a recent development. And if that weren’t enough… It’s hard to grow up being the only one of your friends who doesn’t have a mother. Especially when it’s your fault she’s dead.”
The last words were little more than a whisper, but Owen still heard them. He shifted her in his arms again so that he could see her whole face, but her eyes remained downcast in shame.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “You said your mother died in a car accident. You were four years old, Lena. You were just a baby. How on earth could it possibly be your fault?” Lena tried to bury her face against him again, but he wouldn’t allow it. She took a stuttering breath.
“I remember the accident. Most people don’t have vivid memories from that age, but I do. I remember everything. I remember how it felt when the car was flipping and the pain of being thrown around. I remember how loud it was… and then how quiet. And cold. I remember what my mom looked like as she was dying… the exact moment the life left her eyes.” Owen was horrified, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “If it weren’t for you, I might’ve tried harder to forget the whole thing, but… forgetting the accident would’ve meant forgetting you too. I didn’t want that.”
“Lena,” he breathed, his voice etched in pain for the frightened little girl she’d been… and for the pain she was still feeling. “I’m so sorry, baby. No one should have to remember something like that. But… I still don’t understand why you’d think it was your fault.”
“I was crying,” she admitted, her expression full of shame. “My mom was trying to soothe me… trying to hand me a cup of juice or something. And instead of just taking it and shutting up, I pushed it away and cried harder. I cried for my dad. The cup fell, and Mom was trying to pick it up. She took her eyes off the road for just a second, and…”
Lena sobbed, and this time Owen let her bury her face against him. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head. His heart ached for her as she wept into his chest, and he felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. After a little while, Owen tilted her chin upward until their eyes met again.
“Eleanore… I’m going to say something really important, and I need you to listen to me. Not just listen, I need you to believe me. Alright?” He waited until she gave him the barest hint of a nod. “You did nothing that any other four-year-old child wouldn’t have done. You couldn’t have understood that distracting a driver was dangerous, and even if you had, a four-year-old doesn’t have that kind of control over their emotions or their reactions. No one would’ve expected you to behave any differently.”
Lena’s face crumpled, and a fresh wave of tears overtook her. He let her work through them for a few moments before he wiped her cheeks and continued to speak.
“It’s terrible that your mom died that way. That she died at all,” he corrected. “But no way in hell was it your fault. If she were here right now, I’m sure she’d say the same thing, and I think you know I’m right. She’d never want you to blame yourself for her death. Honestly, the very idea of it is…” Owen hesitated on the verge of calling it ridiculous; he didn’t want to upset her further.
“I know it’s illogical,” Lena closed her swollen eyes briefly but opened them again when Celia’s face swam behind her eyelids. “I’m not an idiot. I know how old I was and that I was acting like a normal kid, but… that doesn’t change the fact that I was the reason she looked away from the road. And ultimately, that’s what killed her. It’s not fair that I lived and she didn’t. I should’ve died in that car too,” she whispered, her breath sputtering a little when Owen’s arms tightened fiercely around her. “I know it’s not logical, but I can’t help it. Emotions aren’t logical.”
He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath as the horror of that alternate reality shook him. He couldn’t bear to even think it.
“I know that, but Lena… You’ve got to let this go. You’ve spent the last fifteen years drowning in guilt over something completely beyond your control. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
Lena didn’t reply, but to Owen’s relief, she didn’t start crying again either. As they lay quietly in the darkness, he processed what she’d told him from another angle. The way she lived her life made more sense to him now, particularly when it came to Nate. It was no wonder she was so terrified of letting him down; in her mind, she’d already failed her mother in the worst possible way. Not only did Lena feel that she didn’t deserve her father’s love, she didn’t think she even deserved to be alive. The ridiculously high standards she’d set for herself were her way of doing penance for having survived the accident. It was why she was constantly pushing herself to the brink of a breakdown trying to be the perfect daughter.
But no one can be perfect all the time, he frowned inwardly as his gaze flickered to the black scraps of fabric now littering her bedroom floor.
When Owen’s eyes moved back to her face, he expelled a sigh of relief to see that she’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he didn’t try to move or adjust their position. Even in her sleep, Lena was clutching him tightly, and it was clear that she needed him more than she was probably willing to admit. Her phone buzzed from its place on her nightstand, and he turned carefully to retrieve it.
Need a raincheck, Gardner. Em is sick, and Adam doesn’t want to leave her. Maybe we can go over break sometime? Let me know. - Tessa
Owen was pleased that they wouldn’t be interrupted by Lena’s friends any time soon, but he couldn’t stop the scowl that marred his features at the suggestion of a raincheck. He texted back a simple ‘Ok’ and put the phone aside. They would have to come to some kind of understanding about her reckless behavior. He watched Lena in silence, taking in the puffiness of her eyes and lips. Her cheeks were still flushed with emotion, and most of her hair had come loose from her ponytail in tangled, uneven loops. She was a mess… and she’d never been more beautiful.
Her warped sense of self-worth baffled him. How was it possible that she didn’t know how amazing she was? Owen was no stranger to low self-esteem, and if he were being honest, he’d have to admit that he still sometimes doubted whether or not he actually deserved to be happy. He understood that part of Lena’s logic better than she realized. As he mentally compared their situations, Owen
acknowledged that what she probably needed more than anything else was to spend some time with a therapist. He’d never imagined actually making that suggestion for anyone, but he’d also never felt so powerless to help someone he cared about. And he’d certainly never loved anyone the way he loved Lena.
When he’d gone to live with the Langfords as a teenager, they’d insisted that he undergo psychiatric therapy with a shrink who had worked with Mary. It had been one of their conditions for helping him to secure his emancipation, and he’d hated every last second of it. Owen had wanted nothing more than to move on and forget the past, but everyone had insisted that he would be unable to do that unless he worked through his therapy.
That was what had led him to sit in a stereotypically decorated shrink’s office and spill his life story to a stranger. It had been embarrassing and almost inhumanely uncomfortable, but after a few weeks, Owen had realized that it was actually helping. Simply being able to say the words to someone who didn’t really know him or have any kind of personal stake in his situation had been liberating. The therapist had validated his feelings about both of his mothers, assuring him that he had every right to be angry with them, to be hurt by their actions.
There was comfort in acceptance, and Owen had eventually come to understand that there would be no way to truly leave his past behind him unless he faced his demons head on. Sean and Mary had given him their full and unflinching support. They’d always been willing to offer advice or even simply to listen, and Owen had kept no secrets from them. They’d helped him to gain control of his world for the first time in his life, and as Owen watched Lena sleep in his arms, he felt the familiar swell of appreciation for Sean and Mary Langford.
After so many years of abuse, he might easily have turned to drugs or drinking. He might have let his anger explode outward and infect other people or turn inward and poison his mind. He could have gotten into fights, landed himself in jail, or even taken his own life. But to do any of those things would have been an outright betrayal of the two people who had saved him from the darkness that had ruled his life for eleven years. True, he wasn’t the picture of mental health; no one who’d suffered a childhood like his ever would be. Owen still harbored a fear of abandonment, and he was more than a little insecure. But he was also determined. He was set to graduate college two full years early, and he’d vowed not to rest until he’d achieved the success he’d been dreaming about for so long.
Owen’s thoughts drifted back to the flame-haired beauty who was now snoring lightly against his chest. Even her snoring is adorable, he mused. He adjusted the pillow beneath him as best he could without jostling her and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed unlikely that Nate would’ve neglected to take Lena to a therapist after her mother had died. It was a logical step that any good father would take after such a tragedy. Maybe he did, but it didn’t help her enough. Maybe she refused to talk at all, Owen speculated, recalling his Ellie’s defiant silence to everyone but him when they’d been at the Colemans’ together. If he was certain of anything, it was that therapy was only effective for those willing to ‘do the work.’
He leaned down to press his lips to Lena’s forehead, hoping that she would at least let him help her now. He felt like he owed her that, not only as the man who loved her, but also as the little boy who had vowed to keep her safe.
Chapter 23
Sunday
Lena woke early the next morning and stretched appreciatively against the warmth of Owen’s body next to her. A quick peek at his face revealed him to be sleeping soundly, and she smiled softly at his peaceful expression. Although the sky beyond her window was still dark, Lena slipped out of bed carefully and donned a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, retrieving her phone from the nightstand before quietly leaving the room. She tapped the Messages icon with the intention of apologizing to Tessa for having stood her up the night before, but to her surprise, Tessa had apparently canceled after Lena had fallen asleep. She knew that Owen must’ve read the text and responded, and she hoped that she wasn’t in for another argument about her ‘behavior’ today.
It was just after six a.m., and under different circumstances, Lena would have considered it an ungodly hour to be awake on a Sunday. However, ‘dead week’ had officially begun, and she was determined to get some studying accomplished before Owen woke up. She knew that she was ready for her English Composition final, and she felt reasonably well-prepared for Biology. The business lecture she took with Owen required a final term paper rather than an exam, and she’d managed to complete it last week. The only two exams she felt moderately nervous about were for her Business Finance and Managerial Accounting classes. Her father hadn’t been mistaken when he’d boasted that finance was her strongest area, but Lena didn’t want to take anything for granted.
When Owen woke two hours later to an empty bed, he panicked momentarily before realizing that he’d actually slept all night as opposed to merely dozing. He put his boxers on and went in search of his girlfriend, unsurprised when he found her hunched over her books on the coffee table.
“How long have you been up?” he asked, his voice still a bit heavy with sleep.
“Couple of hours. I was going to fix breakfast, but I got sucked in,” Lena replied with chagrin. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Great, till I woke up alone.” Owen crossed the room and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. She tilted her chin upward to kiss him properly, and he smiled in approval.
“You know someone loves you when they’re willing to kiss you before you’ve brushed.”
“I do.” Her eyes were utterly sincere, and it was all he could do not to sweep her up and carry her back to the bedroom.
“I love you too.” Owen leaned down for one more kiss before heading toward the kitchen. “Hungry?”
“Yeah, but I’m out of eggs. You could try your hand at pancakes.” She didn’t have to look at his nervous expression to know his answer, and she smirked down at her finance notes. Lena had taught him how to make a few easy dinners, but he was still wary of trying new things without supervision.
“Uh… I think I’m good with cereal if that’s alright with you.”
She nodded and thanked him, returning to her notes. They discussed their upcoming exams and their schedules for the following week as they ate. They were planning to spend the majority of dead week studying separately, and both had reduced their hours at GC until after finals were over. Lena felt simultaneously relieved for the break and anxious about the work that would pile up in her absence, though they were both expected to go in for a few hours on Saturday.
“I think I’m going to hop in the shower,” Lena sighed when she’d finished her Frosted Flakes. She glanced at her school work briefly and stood up, holding a hand out toward him. “Care to join me?”
Owen grinned and allowed her to lead the way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth while she got the water started. They took turns standing beneath the shower head, passing the soap back and forth between them. Lena groaned appreciatively as he helped her wash her hair, massaging her scalp gently. She was a bit too short to return the favor, so she washed his chest as he rinsed the shampoo out of his own hair.
When he turned to rinse the soap away, her eyes caught on his scars, and before she could stop herself, she reached out to touch them gingerly. He stiffened but relaxed almost instantly. Once again, he felt no discomfort from her touch, and Owen reveled in the sensation of her fingertips against a part of his body that he’d long considered off-limits.
“Are you ever going to tell me how you got them?” Lena asked quietly, her eyes tracing each scar before gliding upward to the unfinished tattoo on his shoulders. He sighed and turned to look at her.
“Yes… But not in the shower.” He kissed her softly and offered a sad smile.
After the things she’d revealed about her own past the night before, Owen supposed that sharing the story of his childhood was probably a little overdue. It was a discussion he’d been intentionally put
ting off for the sake of keeping things positive between them, but he knew that Lena deserved to know what the last fifteen years of his life had been like. As they dressed and returned to the living room, he braced himself for her possible responses to what he was about to tell her. She’d be appalled, no doubt. Anyone would be. But a smaller, less confident part of him worried that she might also be disgusted by the things his mother had done to him.
Will she ever look at me the same way?
“You look nervous,” she observed, her face apologetic. “If you’re not ready -”
“No, it’s alright. I probably should’ve told you before now. It’s just… hard to know where to start,” Owen explained, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
“How about starting where we left off? What happened after you left the foster home?” They gazed at each other for a long moment before he took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully.
“I was adopted by a couple named Edward and Vera Monroe. They were friends of the Langfords. Mary was a resident in the ER the night the cops finally found my birth mother’s body. Her name was Rebecca. She’d overdosed four days earlier.”
“Oh my God,” Lena winced.
“No, we haven’t gotten to that yet. Are you sure you want to hear it, because when I said it isn’t a pretty story…”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt, I just… You were so little. I remember how much smaller than me you were and thinking it was strange that we were the same age.”
“That’s because Rebecca was neglectful and a little abusive. I was severely underweight.” Lena nodded but didn’t speak again, so he continued. “Anyway… I was only in foster care for a few months while the adoption proceedings went through. To be honest, I have no idea why my parents adopted me. On the rare occasions that my father and I were even in the same room, he barely looked at me, and my mother… She should never have had a child. She shouldn’t have even been allowed to be around other people’s children.
Ember (Constant Flame Duet Book 1) Page 26