“It’s just…we’re so quick to throw people away. To assume they’re wastrels.”
“Wastrels?”
“Give me a break. I’m finishing up an Elizabethan England lit class.” He pulled her close and rested his chin on top of her head. “Anyway. I wonder if maybe this is his cry for help, and I’m ignoring it. Maybe he doesn’t know how to save himself. Maybe he really does think we hate him and we’ve thrown him away and we wish we could trade him for…them.”
“And maybe, just maybe, you’ve done all you can, and he needs to come around all on his own. Maybe he needs time to do that, but I think he will. With loving, warm people in his life like you, your mom, and Ronnie. People with good heads on their shoulders and good hearts in their chests on his side, I think he has no choice but to come around eventually.”
He was silent on that, but he planted a kiss on top of her head.
#
They talked half the night away, just learning all the little facts about each other they hadn’t taken the time to learn before that night. They talked about friends, family—mostly Owen’s family—prom, first kisses, first jobs, what had brought them to CVU, everything.
Finally, Owen asked the question that had been burning away in him for a long time. “Why are you so against relationships?”
“I’m not against them for other people. They just don’t work for me.” She shrugged. “I think they’re silly. I mean, what’s the point? They don’t last, somebody always gets hurt. You might as well jump in head first, get to the good part, and get out.”
“That’s a very bleak way to look at it.”
“How long were you and Kristin together?” she asked.
He sighed, sorry he brought the subject up now. “A very long time.” He distracted himself by weaving his fingers through Marci’s braids.
“And someone got hurt, right?”
“I guess.” He continued to concentrate on her hair and avoid her eyes.
“Was it worth it?”
“The good times? The feeling of being in love? There’s a rush—just this sense of wellness and wholeness that comes from it. I think it’s worth the pain if it doesn’t all work out. And the payoff if it does work? That’s more than worth the risk. Don’t you want that? That feeling of being so filled up with someone that’s all you can think about. And knowing that person is yours the way you belong to them wholeheartedly. Knowing you’re never truly alone in this world no matter what. How can you not want to experience that?”
She pulled back a little. He looked into her eyes and found something he’d never seen there before because she normally seemed so self-assured—uncertainty. In that moment, she looked so startled and lost that he almost wondered if she was the same person he’d gotten into bed with.
“I was in love once.” She smiled. Her smile faltered but only for a moment so brief he thought he might have imagined it. “Once was enough.” She turned her back to him but didn’t scoot away from him.
“Who hurt you?” he asked, pulling her closer.
“Do you think I’m cold? Cruel?”
He kissed her cheek. “No. Why would you even ask that?”
“I’m not trying to lead you on.”
“I’ve known the deal from the start. I made the deal, remember?”
“That’s what I keep telling myself, but somehow, I can’t help but feel that I’m holding you back.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. But that’s how I feel. Like I’m keeping you from finding something real by holding you to whatever we have.”
“Don’t feel that way,” he said.
She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “If only it were that easy.”
“You’re not holding me anywhere I don’t want to be held.” He stroked her braids away from her face. “I would never hurt you.” He kissed her neck tenderly. “In fact, I think I might—”
“We should try to get some sleep,” Marci cut him off in a hurry. “It’s past three in the morning. Wow, how’d it get so late?”
Love you, he finished silently. “Good night, Marci,” he said aloud.
“‘Night, Owen.” She sank back against his chest, and he kissed her cheek before pulling her tightly to him and settling his head against the pillow.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, Owen awakened to the sound of a soft, “Oh shit.” He stirred, trying to get his bearings. He blinked his eyes hard a few times against the slant of sunlight coming from between the two pale blue curtains across the room. It took him a few moments to orient himself and remember that he was in bed in the guestroom at Mom’s house with Marci because of a snowstorm.
“What time is it?” he asked, squeezing Marci’s shoulder. He didn’t want his mom to find him here. He was a grown man, but they still both liked to pretend that Owen didn’t have sex. And ironically although Owen and Marci hadn’t done anything last night, finding Owen in that room might ruin the little fiction he and his mom had going.
“A little after seven,” Marci murmured, clearly distracted by whatever she was listening to on her phone. She sat straight up in bed. When she turned to him, her eyes were filled with worry.
He put a hand on her arm. “What is it?”
“It’s Ronnie.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “Her uncle is in the hospital. It’s a long story, but…oh God. I should be there with her.”
“Then I’ll take you,” Owen said automatically as if it were the natural thing to do and say because it was.
“They’re in Jersey.”
“Let me grab a shower and make some coffee and we’ll go,” Owen said.
She stared at him as if he were an alien. “You don’t have to.”
“You keep reminding me of what I don’t have to do.” Owen climbed out of bed and stretched. “I need to get out of here before Mom catches me in this room, and we both need to get ready for our road trip to Jersey.”
“Are you sure?” Marci asked. “I mean, I’m just a…I’m not even your girlfriend.”
“You’re a friend. You’re not going to get out of that one.”
“But—”
“There are towels in the linen closet across the hall. Be downstairs in…forty-five minutes?” Owen glanced over at her.
“Thirty,” she said. Worrying her dad’s class ring on its chain around her neck, she added, “Thank you.”
“See you downstairs,” he said as he exited the room.
#
Later, as they were leaving the house with a thermos of coffee and a paper bag packed with Thanksgiving leftovers after explaining the situation to Owen’s mom, they were confronted with an unexpected sight.
“What are you doing here?” Owen asked Jeremy.
“I talked to Ronnie,” Jeremy said, rubbing his nose that was red presumably from the cold. “She said you guys were going up. Could I catch a ride?”
Marci watched Owen who watched Jeremy. Owen’s jaw locked, but he nodded. “For Ronnie’s sake. She’s been a good friend to you. But I don’t want any of your tantrums on the way up there.”
Jeremy nodded empathically. “Thanks. I just want to get to Ronnie as soon as possible. I’ll sit in the back, you won’t hear a peep out of me.” Jeremy jogged/skidded in the direction of the jeep. Owen tugged his knit hat over his ears and looked in the direction his brother had gone.
Marci put her arm around him and said, “He was right about one thing yesterday. Just not the sarcastic way he said it.”
“What’s that?” Owen asked. He surveyed the ice-glazed sidewalk instead of looking over at her.
She took in his profile, the perfect slope of his nose. “You’re golden. Just pure good. One of a kind.”
“You know I love you, right?” Owen’s gaze locked on hers. “You know that’s what I wanted to say last night when you stopped me. You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to feel it. I just thought you should know.”
Marci was flooded by so many feelings she couldn’t name. Suddenly, her scarf was too tight, her hat too hot. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She rushed out the words.
“Regardless, you know how I feel now. It’s out there, and there’s no doubt about it.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t think you should take me to New Jersey. I don’t want you getting any ideas—”
“Oh, just get in the jeep before I make you,” Owen said. “We’re wasting time.”
“But—”
“Don’t punish Ronnie for the way I feel about you.”
“I—”
“How else are you going to get there?”
“I’ll find a way.”
In answer, Owen bent and went for her thighs.
“Stop, you can’t lift me!”
Except, he could. Owen tossed her over her his strong, capable shoulder like she was an afterthought and carried her to the passenger side of the jeep without faltering in the least on the glassy sidewalk. “Are you going to get in now? Or do you want help with that, too?”
Marci opened the passenger side door of the jeep and climbed in. Chuckling, he closed the door after her.
Jeremy was laughing from the backseat as Owen walked around to the driver’s side.
She whirled around to face the backseat. “What’s so funny?”
“My brother just manhandled you.” Jeremy snickered.
“Ha ha,” Marci said dryly.
The drive to New Jersey was mostly silent. There was the fact that Owen and Jeremy were barely on speaking terms—and Marci and Jeremy had never exactly been friends to begin with. And then there was the news Owen had sprung on Marci before they’d gotten into the car. What did he mean he loved her? What? Love was not part of their deal. How could they keep doing what they had been doing with that hanging between them? They couldn’t. Right? Except, the thing was, she didn’t want to stop. Maybe she couldn’t. She was a little bit addicted to the way she felt when they were together. Physically. Yes, physically only.
Marci watched mile after mile of white trees and semi-white road sludge roll by. She watched the scenery change as Owen cut from the interstate to back roads whenever he thought he might know a quicker way to get them north.
Why had he had to go and ruin things? Whatever they had was a good thing going. Until now. They had fun together. He made her laugh. It was so easy to talk to him. To just be around him. And then he had to go and bring love into it. What the hell? How had she not made it perfectly clear where she stood on such things?
Deep down, you always knew this would have to end, didn’t you? She tried to ignore that nagging voice, but she couldn’t. Part of her had known from the start. And after Tuesday night, really, she should’ve seen this coming a mile away.
Besides, to be perfectly honest with herself, she had to admit that he’d never really lied to her about any of it. He’d never tried to disguise his feelings. She just tried to blind herself to them because she wanted what she wanted.
That was all, right? She wanted the sex. Anything more than that was big trouble she didn’t want and didn’t need. Man, this was a tangled mess.
She didn’t want to lose him, but it wasn’t fair to keep him. After all, she’d never intended to hurt him. This had to end and soon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When they arrived at the hospital, Owen dropped Marci and Jeremy off at the entrance to the wing of where Ronnie was so that they could get to Ronnie as quickly as possible. Owen went to find parking, and Jeremy and Marci went inside.
It wasn’t difficult to spot Ronnie and her family in the waiting room, which had been taken over by dark-haired Italian-Americans all trying to talk over each other. As soon as Ronnie saw them, she ran over and hugged them both. Ronnie’s limp hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing the same long-sleeved shirt and corduroys she’d worn when she left the apartment Wednesday morning.
“I’m so glad you guys are here,” Ronnie said. She stuffed her trembling hands into her pockets. “I would introduce you, but everybody’s a little preoccupied right now.” Ronnie nodded behind her.
“No. Of course. Don’t even worry about that.”
Ronnie yanked her hands out of her pockets and swiped at the mascara smudges under her eyes with a torn tissue. “It’s been a circus.”
“Is there any word yet?” Marci asked. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s in with an orthopedic surgeon now. It’s bad. He needs a whole team of ‘em. You know it’s bad when the man needs a whole team of surgeons.” Ronnie tried to laugh, and it ended in a sob.
Marci hugged Ronnie close.
“Remember I told you my uncle was in trouble for gambling?” Ronnie mumbled the words into the shoulder of Marci’s parka.
“Yeah,” Marci said.
Ronnie pulled back a little and said. “It finally caught up with him. He disappeared from the house the night before Thanksgiving. Next thing I know, we get a call about him being here late last night. We sat around a damned table at my aunt’s house complaining about the dumb Thanksgiving dinner getting cold, trying his damned cell phone over and over again like damned fools and he was...they busted him up good.” Ronnie swiped tears from her cheek. “He looks awful, Marci.”
Without breaking their hug, Marci reached into her purse for a packet of tissues and handed them to Ronnie. Ronnie thanked her and clenched the packet in her fist.
“They broke both his arms,” Ronnie said. “One of his legs was so mangled it had to be amputated. And they still felt it was necessary to shoot him. The bullet was just inches from his spine. God, Marci.” Ronnie shook her head. “I can’t even…it took me hours to get myself together enough to call you.”
“Does he have a good neurosurgeon?” For once, Marci’s mind went to her mother in a crisis.
“One of the best, they say.”
“Do you want me to have my mom talk with your uncle’s neurosurgeon?” Marci asked softly.
Ronnie shook her head and smiled. “No, don’t bother her. But thanks.”
“It’s no bother.”
“Really, it’ll be okay. I really appreciate you offering, though. So much.” Ronnie squeezed her tighter.
When Owen came in, Ronnie hugged him as well and thanked him for driving Marci and Jeremy up.
“Of course,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
Ronnie nodded. Jeremy stepped up next to Ronnie and gently loosened the packet of tissues from her grip. Taking one out of it, he handed it to her. After shoving her old tattered tissue in her pocket, she held the new one to her face. Jeremy held the packet of tissues with one hand and put his other hand at Ronnie’s elbow.
Owen stood next to Marci. She looked over at him and saw that he was looking at his brother with a pensive little frown on his face.
“Ronnie!” a woman more buxom than Ronnie even shouted. She was holding the arm of a tall, guy with short, spiked hair who looked to be in his early twenties or late teens. Well, she wasn’t so much holding him as he was dragging her along. “Get over here and talk some sense into your brother before he gets himself killed!”
Ronnie lowered the tissue from her face. “Duty calls.” She drew in a shaky breath. She started to go over to her aunt and brother, and Jeremy headed in the same direction. She gave him a curious look.
“You’ve been there for me more than I deserve,” Jeremy said. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor in any way I can.”
“My family is, uh. Well, just look at ‘em.” Ronnie gestured to the raucous group spread out across the waiting room, shoving and yelling. The nurses and orderlies cast wary glances at them but seemed reluctant to come over and try to get them to settle down. Two security guards hovered near the back of the room, looking ready to pounce at any second. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’ll be right back,” Ronnie said to Marci and Owen.
“We’ll be right here,” Marci said.
>
Ronnie and Jeremy walked over to Ronnie’s aunt, and Ronnie grabbed her brother’s shoulder on the side opposite where her aunt was trying to wrangle him. Marci felt Owen’s fingers weave through hers, and she squeezed them.
#
“We don’t have to stay in the same room,” Marci said as Owen parked the jeep. He looked over at her, eyebrows raised.
“I thought that was the whole reason we’re not staying at Ronnie’s uncle’s,” Owen said. They’d stopped at a roadside motel that was the closest thing to the hospital. They’d left Jeremy with Ronnie back at the hospital. He refused to leave Ronnie’s side. Ronnie had insisted Marci and Owen get some rest. Ronnie told them they should stay at her uncle’s, but Marci didn’t feel comfortable with that because so much of Ronnie’s family had set up camp there, and Ronnie wouldn’t be there. Jeremy considered it his duty to stay, but Ronnie wouldn’t hear of all of them getting no rest—especially Owen who’d driven all the way up there and would have to drive them back home soon.
“It’s just…I don’t know if we should…anymore.” Marci stared at the brick wall and the red door with the room number 19 tacked to it in gold numbers straight ahead. She could tell from the jeep that the gold was flaking off the dull gray metal underneath.
“Is this because of what I said earlier?” Owen asked. “Because I’ve felt this way for a while. So what’s changed?”
“The fact that I know.”
Owen laughed softly.
“What?”
“Oh, just the fact that I think you’ve known for longer than just today. In fact, I think you’ve been going out of your way to keep me from saying it.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Hm. Am I?”
She looked over at him, and all she wanted was to touch him. To have him. He held his arms out in front of him and stretched his back and cracked his knuckles at the same time. He’d pulled off his jacket and tossed it in the backseat when they’d gotten in the jeep, which left him in only a T-shirt from the waist up. She greedily watched the muscles in his arm ripple as he stretched.
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