Because I hated myself when I should have just hated his father.
Michael brought Owen into this world. He gave me my best friend, the person who understood me and loved me like no one else could. And that’s where their connection ends.
Owen is nothing like his father. He’s kind and thoughtful, protective and honest. He’s everything good in a dark world full of nothing.
He’s mine.
And I’m his.
Always his.
I grab my comforter and pull it up so only my head is visible. I sink into my soft bed and close my eyes. Owen brings happiness into my life. I was the one that poisoned every memory.
I’m so sorry, Owen. Please forgive me. You loved me at my darkest. I promise to love you at your lowest.
Mowgli jumps onto the bed and slips under the blanket, snuggling against my chest.
I blindly reach for his head and scratch his ears, hearing him purr.
“Do you miss him as much as I do?” I whisper into the silence. He gave me you. He always gives and asks for nothing in return. A man like that is rare to find. A man like that deserves to be truly loved.
My phone vibrates against the pillow beside me.
I know I shouldn’t read whatever is on the screen but I do.
Owen: Please come back.
Three little words have the power to tug something deep inside of me. I feel it start somewhere in my chest, slowly running through my veins until it reaches every blood vessel, every nerve, every bone.
I’m transported back to the day I woke up from my coma after the accident. I remember hearing Owen say those words to me. I feel his hand in mine. I was his lifeline, and he was mine.
I let the tears roll down my cheek as I remember the words I never said to him that day. She’s gone, Owen. She’s never coming back.
But she was always here, hiding in the darkest corner of the darkest room. I can’t hide from my childhood. I can’t pretend it never happened.
My childhood made me into the person I am right now.
I can make myself into someone a little better, someone stronger and confident. Someone who can love her best friend and not be afraid to look into his eyes.
He is not his father.
He is good.
He is my person.
I slide my finger across the screen, unlocking my phone.
My background on the home screen is a quote both Owen and I have loved for a while now. I don’t know who wrote it but it’s always been the one I go back to when I’m feeling down. Owen follows a few poets on social media and when he came across that one the beginning of senior year while we sat in the quad, he stared at me for a few silent seconds, his fingers running down my cheek, past my collarbone until his hand rested on my chest, my heart beating to the warmth of his hand.
He said that quote was his feelings for me wrapped up in a sentence.
He has always loved me a little louder.
I read his message three times before I finally respond with the quote.
Me: I need you to love me a little louder today
My phone starts vibrating but this time Owen’s picture fills the screen. I hit accept in an instant.
“Zo, I’ll love you a little louder for the rest of my life,” he says, his voice full of truth. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Tell me where you see yourself in five years.”
There’s a little pause before he answers with, “With you. Always with you.”
I sniffle and wipe my face against the pillow to dry my tears. “Do you think we can be happy?”
“I know we can.” I hear him take a breath before he asks, “Do you think we can be happy?”
I inhale deeply and say the honest to God truth, “I want us to. I love you, Wen. I’ve always loved you but I was scared. I don’t want to be scared anymore. It hurts. It hurts so much.”
“Do you think you can overcome your fears? Because I’m the problem. Not you. And I fucking hate that I can’t change it.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and I sit up, watching Mowgli as he turns his head back to see why I moved. “You’ve always asked if you can touch me. I trust you.” I wipe away more tears. “You’re the only person I want to be touched by. There is no me without you. We’re a package deal. No one can come between us.”
Not even ghosts. Not anymore.
I hear Owen chuckle and the sound is absolutely breathtaking. “Zo, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you for years. You’re my lobster.”
It makes me giggle and I love that. He always did find a way to get me to smile. Even if it lasted for only a second. Smiling with Owen felt like breaking through the ocean surface and taking your first breath of air. Just when you think you’re drowning, he’s there to pull you to safety.
“Have you been watching Friends?” I question.
A noise that sounds like a grunt comes through the phone. “What else am I going to watch? Netflix and chill is our thing. I can’t do it alone.”
“You know that means we have sex while Netflix is on, right? We literally just chill.”
“Wow, kick a man while he’s already down, why don’t you. I know my game is shit.”
I smile even wider. “I would love to Netflix and chill with you some day.”
“Yeah?”
I wiggle my toes and give my shoulders a little shimmy. What on earth am I doing?
“How about ‘read a book and chill’ instead? I think I’d like that even more.”
Are you flirting? Is this flirting?
I hear some rustling on his end. “Only if there’s tea first.”
“You’d drink tea for me?”
“Of course! I’m trying to get laid. I’ll do just about anything,” Owen teases. And I know he’s teasing because I know him.
Like he said, he’s my lobster.
I’m his too.
“Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“I might drink coffee for you,” I admit shyly. “But like a little sip or two.” I’m a tea girl through and through. The smell of coffee isn’t really appealing to me and I’ve never wanted to try coffee after I had to spit out some of Echo’s double shot of shit from Starbucks freshman year.
I can hear the smile in Owen’s voice when he says, “You wouldn’t like it at all but I’m picturing the face you’d make and it’s priceless. You’d scrunch your eyebrows together and push your lips out in disgust. Like a pug. A cute pug.”
“You like comparing me to animals,” I acknowledge.
“Because they’re cute. And so are you.”
I’m quiet for a second, not sure how to respond. We haven’t talked in a few weeks and here he is, making everything seem okay between us.
The first thing that comes to mind leaves my mouth. “Are we flirting? Is this how phone sex starts?” I’m actually kind of curious because I’ve never done it. I don’t like talking on the phone except if it’s with my parents and Owen. And well, Owen and I never had phone sex before because as his book says, we were too stupid to see what was right in front of our eyes much sooner.
I hear his deep, sexy laugh and it makes the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. I missed that laugh. I missed the man that laugh belongs to. “I’ll tell you how phone sex with you starts. Give me one second.” He’s back in two. “Are you ready?”
I’m already blushing thinking of what’s about to happen. Are we supposed to send pictures of everything we take off and then send nudes?
Ohmygod, I haven’t shaved in days!!!
I lift my comforter and stare down at my panda bear pajama pants with patching panda t-shirt. I am so not prepared for this.
I’ve never read any smutty books with some hot phone sex scenes. I’m going to fail miserably. This is a time where books couldn’t help me. I’ve learned so much and when I need help on something, I’ve got nothing to fall back on.
I’m about to pretend I’m feeling sick and cancel whatever we’re starting when I hear him speak the firs
t word. But then I pause because he starts to read the opening line of one of my favorite books.
Oh. My. God!!!
I fall in love all over again.
With him, with the book, with everything.
It’s the middle of March and I’m still in New York. I’m up to date with all of my classes and therapy has been going great. These last few weeks have helped me tremendously.
I’m currently video-chatting Echo as she groans about how she almost burned the house down trying to make an Irish stew for St. Patrick’s Day yesterday. The chick isn’t even Irish. She had no business trying that recipe.
“Freddie laughed at my burnt lamb and then promised he’d make a Shepard’s pie for me. Sweets, that shit was amazing. I still can’t believe he made it.” She rolls her blue eyes and gathers her long blonde hair and twists it into a bun on the top of her head. “Anyways, enough about me. Let me see it! Let me see it!!”
I scoot back just a little and push the laptop further down my legs so I can lift my tank top and show her the massive outline of the tattoo I just had done. “It needs to heal first and then I can get it colored in.”
Echo’s mouth drops as I twist a little to the right, showing her the cherry blossom tree that starts near the bottom of my back and the top of my left hip, traveling up my side, stopping at the underside of my left boob.
“Holy mother of Jesus. That’s beautiful.” She leans forward, her eyes traveling over every branch. “When you get it colored in it’ll look like it’s fully bloomed.” Her eyes find mine again and I drop my tank top, resting against the headboard. “It’s perfect, Zoë. It’s you. It goes with the new hair.”
I shocked Echo with my newly dyed hair. The light brown to blonde balayage is just beautiful. I walked by a hair salon earlier and decided to go in and get something done.
I haven’t left the hotel room in weeks because it was too cold and I had books to read. I only really left when I had my internship and well, since that was over, where would I go besides therapy? I didn’t like being in large crowds. New York was full of them. I’m in New York because the publishing house only had available openings here. And I needed a breather from life.
I thought I’d go out and explore the city but people…
My social skills were never that great to begin with so it’s not surprising. But getting this tattoo was a huge shock to my introverted self. I couldn’t sleep last night from all the excitement of my appointment today. I booked it two weeks back after I talked to Owen. I was lucky to find such a close date because someone changed their mind and canceled their seven-hour session.
Darla, my tattoo artist, didn’t speak much. I think she knew I wasn’t one for small talk and since I had three paperbacks with me, she understood where my head would be at.
Before we sat down she asked me about the tattoo and I said, “I’ve always been drawn to this tree. It’s beauty. It’s meaning.” I stretched out on the leather chair, getting comfortable. “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard it all by now, but it signifies strength.”
Darla nodded and continued to set up everything she’d need to use. “It’s one of my favorite tattoos to design. And you’re getting the whole tree. You’ve made my year.”
I stared at the ink covering her arms, wondering what stories were behind them. She didn’t look older than thirty, but if you stared hard enough, you could see there was a story. Everyone has a story. Some of us just keep a chapter hidden.
There was this shine in Darla’s eyes and a kindness to her smile that made me feel safe and comfortable. I was getting my first tattoo done and I wasn’t overly nervous anymore.
This tattoo was my story. The chapter I never wanted to read aloud. It’s the reminder I need that I can overcome anything that comes my way. I’m not trapped. I’m free.
It’s my time to bloom.
“When do you go back?” Echo asks, making me jump a bit. “You okay, sweets?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I clear my throat and add a smile when she starts to frown. “I’m just thinking of the tattoo.” I let my eyes roam over the hotel room, over everything that doesn’t belong to me.
I don’t belong here. I belong with Echo, spending as much time as I can get with her before she moves to Indiana. I belong near my family, close enough to my parents so they don’t have to worry about me because I’m so far away.
And I belong with Owen, wrapped in his arms, our hearts within reach.
I belong in Seattle where it’s sometimes dark and gloomy, the perfect time to stay indoors and read.
“Next month,” I answer. “But…I might not be here.”
Her eyes get wide and her lips curl into a delighted smile. “Yeah? You’re coming back? When? I might need to go food shopping. The guys eat everything when they’re over.”
“Coco, calm down.”
She covers her mouth with her hand and shakes her head. “I’m so excited! I get my bestie back. It’s been so lonely here. I miss your loud snoring and your smelly farts.”
I gasp in horror. “My farts aren’t smelly.”
Now she rolls her eyes and flips me the bird with both hands. “You don’t shit flowers, sweets.”
“You’re mean.” I blink a few times and pretend to start crying. I add in a sniffle and wipe my dry eyes so I can sell it. “I’m not coming back.”
She leans forward, almost knocking her head into her laptop. “I’m so sorry! Your farts don’t stink. Come back. I miss you. We all miss you. It’s not the same without you here. Please!”
When I smile, she catches on pretty quickly.
“You whore. Eat a dick.” Echo smiles back, giving her shoulders a little shake. “I’ll pick you up from the airport. I do have your car. When do you land?”
“I didn’t even book the flight yet!” Damn, she really wants me back. Ever since I got off the plane here in New York she hasn’t told me to come back. She just told me to have fun editing books, and to text her every night with updates or else she’ll start giving away all my paperbacks.
“This conversation is over. You should have booked the flight while talking to me.” Echo sharply turns her head to the left, remaining quiet.
“What are you doing?”
“I left the room and won’t return until you book a flight.”
My best friend has officially gone insane.
I sigh, but also grin while I look up flights back to Seattle. I book the first one leaving tomorrow at noon. I take a screenshot and send it to Echo.
“That’s how much I love you,” I inform her.
She tilts her head at the screen trying to see the flight details. She attacks the laptop to bring it closer. “You’re coming tomorrow?!”
I nod, holding in my excitement when I see the tears run down her cheeks. “Coco, don’t cry!”
“I’m not crying, you’re crying!”
And now we’re both crying.
“I need to pack but I’ll call you when I land, okay?”
She wipes her eyes and nods. “Bring Owen or no?”
I hesitate for two seconds. “I’ll find him when I’m in town.”
“All right. And, sweets?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m so glad you’re coming back. I can’t wait to lick your face!”
I make a disgusted face that gets her to start laughing.
“I shall bring tea for milady!” she answers in a British accent.
I chuckle as I slide my laptop onto the bed and stand. I missed her. I missed how she made me feel. “I’ve been waiting for this feeling, Coco. This lightness around me. Thank you.”
“Aww, sweets, it has always been with you. You just needed to find it. Therapy helped then?”
“It has. I’ll see how I can keep talking to my therapist after I leave, but I like him. He knows how to handle everything I say.”
“That’s good! I’ll have to send him a gift basket thanking him for bringing my sweet little honeybee home.”
I give her a pointed look and
start waving goodbye. “I’ll be there in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t forget the pussycat. I miss his round face.”
I could never forget him. My favorite person gave him to me.
When we end the call, I start gathering all my things and get my suitcase ready. I get everything prepared for the morning and then I slip back into bed and try to sleep without pressing against my tattoo.
A part of me wonders why I came to New York, besides the obvious; my internship and therapy. Why did I stay? Did it really help? Was it even needed? But then I think of this tattoo, all the therapy I’ve been getting, and I see the change in me starting to show.
Last week, Dr. Owens suggested I write a letter to young Zoë. He wouldn’t read it. He just wanted me to get everything out. So once I left his office, I took a cab to Central Park and I sat down on a bench with a notepad and pen.
I wrote everything down, all the horrifying moments that held me back. I told my younger self that because of what happened she’d end up feeling like she couldn’t be loved by the one person she wanted to be loved by the most. I told her that it was never her fault. She was brainwashed and manipulated by an older man who should have been a role model instead of a monster. I told her that she should have told her parents the second that very man touched her inappropriately. I told her never to blame herself because those dark thoughts will try to take over and own her. But no one and no thing can own her.
She will prevail.
“Always forward, never back.”
It’s a quote I’ll fall back on if things get too hard.
I’ve spent so many years living in the horrors of my past. I’m ready for the beautiful future.
I deserve it.
I’m spreading my wings and I’m ready for takeoff.
So, young Zoë, I know it’s difficult to understand what has happened to you, and I know all you want to do is lock it away where no one can ever find it, but you need to know that you are never alone. You are loved. You are pure. You are you. No one can take that away from you. You, my sweet innocent girl, are strong. You will rise.
It’s such a bright, beautiful, sunny day here in Seattle. I have to take a moment to enjoy this weather when I take my first step out of the airport. This weather is the complete opposite of when I left. It seems fitting in a way.
Let Her Go Page 20