“It was so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Dawson says as she comes into the kitchen. It’s a welcome distraction. We hug, I thank her for dinner, and then she sends us off with two large plates full of leftovers.
Owen stumbles out of the house behind me, and it’s all I can do not to peel the foil off the plates and smear the food all over the front of Owen’s truck. It’s not entirely his fault. I mostly blame myself for giving him the chance to show me he changed.
And then disappointing me.
My mind goes back to what Marcus said, that Todd was my rebound after Owen. I didn’t put any merit in it before, but the hurt that I’m feeling right now is making me think that he was right after all.
Until the end, things with Owen were perfect.
Easy.
He got me, and I got him.
I didn’t have to put on a show for him. Didn’t have to get dressed up. Hell, I didn’t even have to shave my legs.
And Owen always made me feel like I was enough. More than enough, really. We loved each other so, so much, and I thought love was enough to get us through anything.
How did we fall apart?
Looking behind me, I watch Owen drunkenly struggle to get out of the gate without letting any of the dogs out. The question of how we fell so far still haunts me, because for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.
We were happy.
In love.
The sex was good. Really fucking good.
Why wasn’t I enough for him? Maybe I dodged two bullets. Owen never grew up and Todd is an asshole.
Maybe I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.
And I’m fine with blaming Owen for that. He ruined me. Gave me unrealistic expectations that even he couldn’t fill in the end. I open the passenger side door and wait for Owen to stumble his way across the gravel driveway and into the truck. Slamming the door, I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m mad at myself more than anyone else.
I get in, move the seat up, and put the plates of leftovers on Owen’s lap.
“Hold onto these. If they fall, I’m not cleaning up your truck.” I pull my seatbelt on and slowly back out of the driveway. Logan and Danielle come out of the house in somewhat of a rush, and it almost looks like Logan is flagging me down.
I put the truck in drive, and it lurches forward, surprising me with the pickup. The last truck I drove was Owen’s, and that was back in college.
“Charlie,” he starts, turning to look at me. His eyes are bloodshot but are also glossing over. I don’t think it’s from the alcohol, but I don’t want to give him the chance to sway me.
Because if anyone can, it’s him.
“Just…just don’t, Owen.” My own voice catches in my throat, and I lean forward, turning on the radio. Synced to Owen’s phone, his music automatically gets pulled up. He listens to the same stuff he did when we were together, and I love and hate that about him.
I skip past three Def Leppard songs, another by Motley Crew, and am surprised when “Defying Gravity” comes on.
“Seriously?” I turn, taking my eyes off the road for a split second. He has his head resting against the window as he clutches the plates of leftovers.
“It reminds me of you,” he mumbles, and my eyes instantly fill with tears.
Damn you, Owen Dawson.* * *
“We’re at your house,” I say, putting the truck in park in the driveway. Owen sits up, blinking. “I’ll walk you in. I don’t want to be responsible if you stumble, fall, and then die of exposure from the heat or anything.”
Owen doesn’t say anything. He blinks and undoes his seatbelt. Holding the plates of leftovers in one hand, he gets out and slowly walks up the driveway, using a keypad to open the garage doors. I stay a few feet behind him, watching to make sure he gets in the house okay.
Going against my better judgment, I follow behind. Just to make sure the plates get put in the fridge and he gets himself water. The moment I step inside the kitchen, I’m shocked. Because this does not look like the kind of house I’d expect Owen to live in.
The kitchen is clean and impressive, with a huge island counter decorated with three apothecary jars full of fruit. The biggest jar is in the center, and the lemons inside of it set a theme for the rest of the decor. Nothing is over the top, but the little pops of yellow amongst the white and gray color scheme in the kitchen is Instagram-worthy.
The kitchen opens into a living room, and the same colors are carried throughout that part of the house as well. The TV is obnoxiously large, giving me Owen-vibes, but everything else looks like it was copy and pasted right off of Pinterest.