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“Thank you for dinner. It’s my favorite, and I don’t get it often.” I can see the question in his eyes as I gather our trash and place it in the bag. “Eating out isn’t a luxury I can afford most days,” I say, avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sorry you were dealt such a shitty hand at life.”
“I’m doing okay,” I say, shrugging. “There are rough times, but all I have to think about is where I came from. How I’ve gotten where I am on my own, and it gives me the strength to keep pushing through. Even on the days when I let the thought of giving up filter through my mind, I keep fighting my way through life.”
Something passes over his features, but I can’t describe it. “You ready for that walk?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. He stands, grabs our bag of trash, and walks it to a nearby trash can on the pier. I follow along behind him like the lost soul that I am. When I’m within reaching distance, he offers me his hand, and without hesitation, I take it.
I don’t know this man. He could be a serial killer for all I know, but something in my gut tells me he’s good. Everything he’s done for me, a complete stranger, solidifies that. I’ve always been one to follow my gut. My gut told me to get out of Indiana as fast as I could. My gut told me Florida was where I needed to be.
“Tell me about you,” I say once we’re on the beach.
“I grew up in a big family. I have four brothers. One older and three younger.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“Chaos.” He chuckles. “We were always getting into something growing up. Luckily our parents guided us and kept us on the straight and narrow. We have a lake on our family’s property, and we spent every waking moment there growing up.”
“You have a lake?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah, we would fish, ski, Jet Ski, swim, you name it. We still spend as much time there as we can.”
“Sounds beautiful. Where is home?”
“Tennessee.”
“I’m picturing something like a postcard, vast trees surrounding the lake.”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“You should send me a picture when you get home,” I say without really thinking. This man is just passing through. He’s not going to want to keep in touch with me.
“Or I could show you.”
It takes me a minute to process what he’s saying. “I can’t go to Tennessee.”
“Why not?” He stops walking and steps in front of me. His hands rest on my hips, and the heat from his body seeps into mine. It’s comforting in a way that I can’t explain.
“I live here. Besides, I could never afford the travel expenses.”
“You would be my guest.”
“Owen.” I sigh. “Your heart—” I place my hand on his chest. “—is the kindest I’ve ever known, but I can’t keep letting you take care of me. I need to stand on my own two feet.”
“What if I want to take care of you?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
“It’s getting late. We should go.” The thought of this kind, gentle man wanting to take care of me sets my soul on fire. However, we can’t go there. I can’t go there. I need to be able to take care of myself. Always. I never want to be dependent on someone else ever again.
“Fine,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Let’s go get your car.”
“I’m paying you back, Owen. It’s going to take some time, but I’m going to do it.”
“I don’t want your money. You want to pay me back, then spend time with me. Anytime you’re not working while I’m here, you’re with me,” he suggests.
“Owen—” I start, and he stops me with his finger pressed to my lips.
“I want to spend time with you.” His voice is soft, almost pleading, and it’s as if he’s speaking the words I want to say. I’m just too afraid.
“I work a lot.”
“I know. I’m here for a few more days. Let me have the time you’re not working.”
I find myself nodding before the word “Yes,” slips past my lips.
“That’s my girl.” He smiles down at me before taking my hand and leading us back to his rental.Chapter 7OwenI tossed and turned all night long. It took every ounce of willpower I had to leave her again. Each day that I leave her, it gets harder and harder. That’s why I have a plan. It came to me in the wee hours of the morning. I almost called my brother Royce, but I decided against it. Instead, I lie awake, working out the pitch I was about to give.
“What’s up?” Royce answers.
“You got a minute?” I ask.
“Yes.” There is no hesitation in his voice. “You okay?”
