I studied him, seeing him differently now—not as the boy who stayed, but the man who chose to.“Did Alice know?”
His expression softened.“She knew everything.She always did.”
That familiar ache stirred in my chest.“She watched over me, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.“In her own way.”
Silence settled between us.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said quietly.
Owen set aside his mug and rose.When he reached me, he took my hands, careful of the bandages.“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Not forever.Not promises.Just together.
Since I’d come back to Hickory Hollow, that felt like enough.
Chapter Fifteen
“You’retired.Let’sgetyou to bed.”
I let him tug me gently toward the stairs.
Hours ago, we’d been curled together on the sofa, half-asleep beneath my aunt’s afghan.Now everything felt different—shifted, rearranged—like the house itself had inhaled and hadn’t exhaled yet.
It already felt distant.Like something that had happened to someone else.
He walked me upstairs in silence, our footsteps soft against the old wood.The house creaked and settled around us, familiar and strange all at once.At my bedroom door, he released my hand and started to turn away.
“Wait.”
My voice came out thinner than I meant it to, scraped raw by everything I hadn’t said.
He paused, half-turned back, one brow lifting.“Yeah?”
“Don’t go.”
One heartbeat.Two.
“You want me to stay?”he asked quietly.His gaze flicked to the bedroom behind me.
I nodded, stepping closer.My fingers curled in the hem of his shirt.“I want you to stay.With me.Tonight.”
His breath caught slightly.
For a moment I thought he might argue.Be careful.Be noble.Make the sensible choice for both of us.
Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
I slid my hands up his chest—and had a fleeting, startling thought that I must have missed something over the years.When had Owen McAllister gone from lanky, quiet boy to solid, warm, undeniably real man?Muscle shifted beneath my palms, heat radiating through cotton and skin.
Longing flickered in his dove-gray eyes.
His fingers closed gently around my wrists—not stopping me, exactly.Holding me there as if he were bracing himself against something fragile and precious all at once.
The memory of our kiss in the basement rushed back—the way it had made the rest of the world fall away for a minute.Right now, I wanted that again.Wanted something that wasn’t fear or grief or unanswered questions.
“Owen,” I whispered.
