He nodded, a serious look coming over his face. “Things might not have worked out with Taran if I hadn’t taken a step back with my bar. And God, things with Owen, too. I’m so glad I can be around for him more now, especially because he’s healthier. There were too many times in the past that I wasn’t around. Didn’t pay enough attention to the things that matter—family, friends, love.”
“And it wasn’t worth it? All the hard work?”
“Well, I’m not going to make the same mistake again. Hard work is necessary. But working yourself to death is not.”
I nodded, taking in a long, deep breath of sea air. “In theory, I know you’re right. I can already feel my body unwinding, feel myself melting away stress that had built up over the course of years. Hell, I’m only twenty-six, and I already have back problems from sitting at my desk so much.”
Patrick nodded. “That’s one problem I don’t have, running a bar. But you’re right. All you need to do is set healthy boundaries.”
“I know. Actually… I turned down an interview opportunity for a management position last week.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I was going back and forth about it for months. I knew it wasn’t the right position for me—I’d be working for one of the worst people in our department. But still… turning down a higher-level position felt like giving my middle finger to career advancement. I still feel a little nervous about it.”
Patrick shrugged. “If it felt like the right thing to you, it was the right thing,” he said.
“I couldn’t possibly tell my parents. And… don’t tell Owen, okay?”
“Why not? Owen isn’t exactly a career guru,” he said.
I took a breath in. “Because I told him I didn’t have anything important to do this week. I tried to say the trip was bad timing, but in reality, I think Owen inviting me here was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I knew I needed to be here instead of at work. And to me, that feels so wrong.”
“Owen wouldn’t judge you, Max,” Patrick said softly.
“I know he wouldn’t. I’m just… I’m afraid to tell anyone, really.”
“I understand,” Patrick said, “And… it sounds like you made the right decision, Max.”
“I sure hope so,” I said, letting out a long breath.
“You’ve only got one life, you know?” Patrick said, shaking his head and sighing. “You’ve got to enjoy it while you can. You’ll never get a day back once it’s gone. Focus on what’s important.”
I smiled. “And relaxing is important?” I joked.
“Of course!” Patrick said, tossing his head back in the breeze, looking up at the clouds. He smiled. “You know what I meant. The people you love are important. And I know you and Owen have a love for each other.”
I nodded, guilt rising slightly inside me again. Owen and I had a love and a trust between us, and just minutes ago, I’d been secretly betraying that trust, my thoughts dancing around him in a sexual way. It was so wrong, and I just didn’t know how to stop it.
“I’ll try,” I said. “I’ll try to relax.”
Patrick shrugged. “Hey, if anyone is good at relaxation, it’s Owen. Just spend some more time with my brother, and you’ll be there in no time. Especially now. The kid meditates. He goes on hikes. It’s incredible.”
“He really does seem so much happier,” I said, smiling. “I love it. He’s the same Owen, but… more present. I really feel like he is seeing me now when he talks to me. Before, I knew he was always just waiting for the next drink, the next party. But now he’s all there. Totally there. It’s a little intimidating, honestly.”
Patrick nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. My brother’s intense.”
He was right. I’d known Owen so long, but I could tell that he was more alive now than he’d ever been. It was exciting, but also a little nerve-wracking. What could he do with all that mischief and intelligence now that he was so free? What would he see in me? I’d always felt a little less cool than him and certainly more uptight. Maybe he’d finally realize that I was… boring.
“I’m glad you and Megan could come out,” Patrick said, bending to pick up his own set of shells. “Owen’s been through so much, and I know you guys mean a lot to him.”
I nodded. “Yeah. The three of us work well together.”
“He especially needs you, though, I think,” Patrick said, glancing over at me. “I… I know Mom is always secretly hoping he will end up with Megan, marry her or something, but I know Owen. He loves Megan; she’s an amazing friend. But he needs you.”
I paused, searching Patrick’s face. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Patrick said softly.
I thought about his words for a moment. “I mean… I know I used to help Owen out a lot when he got in trouble, when he drank too much. But I don’t know if he needs me like he used to. Certainly doesn’t seem like I’m going to have to be rescuing him from any hospitals anymore. Thank God.”
Patrick’s gaze grew a little more serious. “Right, but it’s also more than that,” Patrick said. “Owen is instantly better when you’re around.”
For some reason, those words hit me harder than all the others. Owen was better when I was around? He was noticeably different?
For a long while, I’d wondered if I was just a prop in Owen’s life. I knew he said I was special to him, but in reality, was I just the person he called when he was in trouble? The person who always had to nag him to pay rent, to do his dishes?
But the way Patrick made it sound—and the way I’d heard it in Owen’s voice, on the phone, when we’d finally spoken again—made me realize the truth.
Owen did care. He cared more than I had ever known.
And more than anything, that made me realize that my silly physical reactions to his touch didn’t matter at all. In the long run, Owen and I would always be friends. I only had one life, as Patrick reminded me. I loved Owen, and of course I felt comfortable around him. At times that comfort might mean that my body reacted in ways that it shouldn’t, but that didn’t mean my friendship with Owen was doomed.
I knew that after I got used to being around him, my body would fall in line again. It was because of the novelty, because I hadn’t seen him in so long.
But Owen was my best friend, and that was it. That was all I asked, all I needed. Anytime I got a strange physical impulse around him, I would ignore it, just like I’d ignore a faint static on the radio.
Sooner or later, it would go away.
“It is definitely not a sandwich.”
“It is though!”
“How could you say that? A hot dog isn’t a sandwich. If I go into a sandwich shop, I’m definitely not looking for a hot dog.”
“That might be true, but if they wanted to, they certainly could sell them.”
“That would just be too weird!”
Owen was standing up, gesturing wildly on the beach. The sun had long since disappeared beyond the horizon. We were all sitting around the fire pit—Patrick and Taran had started the fire after dinner, and we’d all come out to sit around it as the day grew cooler and became night.
Jim, Owen’s dad, had brought up the idea that hot dogs might be considered a sandwich, and Owen had made it his mission to disprove the theory. The fire crackled, and light danced across everyone’s faces as they laughed at Owen.
“I won’t stand for this,” he said, trying to suppress a smile. “No family and friends of mine will get away with saying a hot dog is a sandwich. We have to take a vote.”
“Oh, come on,” Megan said, laughing.
“Nope, we are doing it,” Owen said.
“I’m in favor of it,” Taran mentioned, shrugging.
“Here goes. Everyone that thinks a hot dog is a sandwich—”
“Can be a sandwich—” Owen’s dad interjected.
“Okay, fine, can be a sandwich, raise your hand.”
I kept my hand down, but Jim, Taran, and Ruth all had theirs up, smiling
.
“What?” Owen said. “Mom, you are only saying this because you’re going along with Dad.”
She shook her head. “I love hot dogs, I love sandwiches, and I think it’s just fine that they can hang out together in the same category.”
“Monstrous,” Owen said, shaking his head. “But okay, this still proves my point. All who say the hot dog is not a sandwich, raise your hand. Four against three is still a win.”
Owen, Megan, and I all raised our hands, but Patrick’s stayed down.
“Patrick, what are you doing?” Owen said, glaring at his brother from across the fire. Patrick had a smile on his face.
“I’m abstaining from voting,” he said.
“Not allowed!” Owen said.
Patrick just shrugged, laughing at Owen. “I don’t have an opinion, and I don’t really care. Food is just food. Who cares what we call it?”
Owen shook his head, turning dramatically toward me. “Can you believe this?” he asked, in horror. “Well, I suppose we learned an important lesson here today,” he said.
“That it doesn’t matter what category we put hot dogs into?” Megan asked.
“No. We learned that Patrick is no help and would rather spinelessly abstain from opinion when his tiebreaker should have set everyone straight,” Owen said. His speech was cut off by laughter when Patrick got out of his beach chair and playfully wrestled Owen to the ground.
Megan shook her head, looking over at Ruth. “I imagine this is what it was like when they were growing up?”
Ruth smiled but had a faraway look in her eyes. “Honestly, no,” she said. “They were too busy being different to ever roughhouse or argue. It was like they had separate lives or something.”
“I’m glad to see the boys are finally letting out the aggression they should have when they were ten years old,” Jim said, standing up, “but it’s definitely bedtime for me.”
Over the next few minutes, one by one people started to yawn, declare they were beat, and end up traipsing back up to the beach house to go to bed. For a while, it was just me, Owen, and Patrick left out by the fire, and we talked aimlessly about memories and future plans.
I realized that this was probably something that most people got to experience all the time—true relaxation, just hanging around with friends and talking about everything and nothing. But it was something I had barely had time for in so long. Maybe since college, even. I was usually the one still at the office, or the one going to bed as soon as I came home because I was just too exhausted.
But this was revitalizing. I had forgotten how electric Owen could be when he wanted to be.
And when Patrick finally got too tired, it was just me and Owen sitting out at the fire next to each other, all the other folding chairs empty and unoccupied. The fire was starting to die down, being untended for a couple hours, but the warm glow was even more beautiful and red than it had been before. Just a smolder, a shock of red in the otherwise dark blue night of the beach.
“I’m surprised you weren’t the first one to head off to bed,” I said, turning to Owen. “You told me in wilderness you were going to bed with the sun every night.”
He nodded. “I did,” he said. “I’m definitely tired, but I guess I’m getting used to… real life, again. Whatever the hell that is.”
“I know what you mean. My ‘real life’ is technically the office, my job, sitting around at my desk day in and day out. But in a way being here already feels like it’s more real than that. Sort of makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing, a little. Kinda gives me some vertigo.”
My heart had started to beat a little faster as I spoke. I wasn’t used to talking about my work like that—it was my duty, it always had been, and I was always just grateful to have a good job. My father had always told me that it was called “work” for a reason—it wasn’t supposed to be fun.
But another part of me was so shocked to see that I could be so happy not working ‘round the clock. Actually acknowledging that I may have been devoting too much of my life to it made me realize how much the other areas of my life were lacking.
Owen was looking at me sort of strangely, his eyes seeming to glint from more than just the reflection of the fire.
“What?” I asked him, trying not to squirm in my chair.
He shook his head, still looking at me. “Nothing,” he said. “I just… I’m kind of amazed that you feel that way. You’ve never said anything like that about work.”
I looked back down at the fire. Even though it was dying, I felt myself growing hotter, maybe from Owen’s eyes on me.
“I know,” I said. “I usually am too busy to even think about this kind of thing.”
“I’m surprised. I just always got the impression that everything was perfect in your life. You love your job; you don’t have… problems, like I do,” Owen said. When I looked back over at him, his eyes were on the fire.
“Everyone has problems, Owen,” I said softly. “But I know what you mean.”
“This vacation has already been good for me, too, though,” Owen said. “Not so much needing time off—I’ve gotten plenty of that, lately—but… seeing you.”
I swallowed, nodding. “I agree,” I said.
“I really forgot how much I like being around you. Didn’t forget, really, but I… wasn’t letting myself admit just how much I missed you.”
I was silent for a moment. The sound of the ocean and the crackling embers were all that filled the air. The entire theme of my life for the past three months had been not admitting how much I missed Owen. But I was supposed to be the strong one. I was supposed to pretend we were better off separate.
That was a lot harder to do when he was sitting right near me, when I could see in his eyes just how much it hurt him when I had cut him out.
“I know,” I finally said. “It sucked not having you around, Owen.”
He let out a long breath. “I know it used to suck having me around, too, though,” he said. There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that I hadn’t heard much of tonight.
“I know you’ve changed, though, Owen. I can see it just as much as you can.”
He glanced over at me, the same strange expression on his face as he’d had a few minutes ago.
“Can I tell you something weird?” he asked.
“Everything you say is weird,” I said with a smile, and finally he broke out into a smile, too. “But okay, yes, definitely tell me something weird.”
He paused for a moment, his look becoming serious as his eyes rested on me. “I kinda liked sleeping next to you last night.”
My breath caught in my throat. That certainly hadn’t been what I was expecting him to say. I didn’t know how to respond and finally just said, feebly, “Huh?”
“I know, I know, it’s really fucking weird for me to say that,” Owen said, scrubbing his hands over his face before meeting my gaze again. “But… you make me feel… so comfortable.”
All the guilt that had seemed to wash away earlier today came screaming back to me. Here Owen was, trusting me, saying that sleeping next to me made him comfortable, and he had no idea that I had been accidentally getting a goddamn hard-on next to him in bed the night before. If he knew that, he would have freaked out. Sure, Owen knew I was gay, and I knew he wasn’t, but him being okay with my sexuality didn’t mean he wanted my cock pressed against him.
But at the same time, another thought ran through my head: I liked it too. I liked sleeping next to him, and I knew exactly what he meant. It made me feel comfortable. It felt right, like finally my mind didn’t run a mile a minute when I was next to him.
“I know what you mean,” I said to him, nodding. I tried to keep my face neutral, not the face of a guilty man.
“You do?” Owen said, perking up, turning toward me.
I nodded again. “Of course,” I said. “I’m more comfortable with you than with anyone. If you don’t think it’s weird, then I don’t either.”
He smiled. “It’s a l
ittle weird, but I just don’t fucking care. It makes me feel good.”
I swallowed hard, glad that he probably couldn’t see my skin growing hot in the glow of the fire. “It feels good,” I said.
“Awesome,” he said, smiling and leaning back in his chair. “Then just come sleep in my bed tonight. Hell, for the whole trip.”
Just when I thought I was going to calm down, there it was again, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through me. My cock even stirred slightly, and I used every ounce of willpower I had to completely ignore it.
“What?” I responded.
“Patrick stole the best bed, but the one in your room is the same as the one in mine. Trust me. You won’t be giving up any quality if you just come sleep in mine.”
I shook my head, leaning forward in my chair. “Wait. You want me to sleep in your bed for this trip? Won’t… won’t your parents think it’s weird if I’m sleeping in your bed instead of my own?”
Owen just shook his head, like he hadn’t a care in the world. “No one’s even gonna notice. They’re too wrapped up in their own stuff to see which room we are walking out of in the morning.”
“I admire your confidence, but I’m not necessarily sure I agree that no one will notice,” I said.
“You did like it, though?” Owen said, meeting my eyes.
“Huh?”
“Did you like sleeping next to me?” he asked.
I liked it way more than I should have, Owen. I think I probably loved it. I loved it in ways that I’m not allowed to love it. I want it in ways that aren’t fair.
I was so overwhelmed that I could barely think, and I didn’t have it in me to combat the truth of how I felt. “I liked it,” I said.
Owen shrugged. “Then that’s the only thing that matters. We’ll share a room. You know I hate being alone, anyway.”
In a few more minutes, the fire finally died, and Owen and I made our way back inside. The wooden floorboards creaked as we walked up to the second level of the house. Everything was dark and quiet, but all the windows were open; the sounds of the gentle waves floated inside as we made our way upstairs.
I went to the bathroom, got ready for bed, changed into my comfortable shorts, all the while questioning whether I was really going to go through with this. When I got back out into the hallway, I saw the door to Owen’s room, wide open. He was in bed, the light of the moon spilling in through the window.
Summer Secret: Rose Falls Book 5 Page 6