Page 111 of Breakaway Hearts

I can’t believe I fell asleep.

At the hockey house, where anything could happen.

Where Owen could do anything to me.

He sucks in a breath, and I remember his injury. Then I debate, if I could move, how bad I would feel about causing a struggle so he drops me and injures himself more, when he probably wouldn’t do anything…but I’ve trusted the wrong person before, and you can’t know you’re wrong until they…

I still my heart by going through things I can see or feel, calming myself, but instead of moving once I’m back in control, I wait. Because what better chance to catch Owen than when he thinks I’m completely vulnerable? If he tries anything, I’ll know. And that bruise might give me a fighting chance.

I pretend to be asleep, trying to keep my eyes relaxed instead of forcing them shut, as Owen places me gently on a bed, but the panic is rising as I repeat to myself that at least I’ll know.

I lie still, waiting while he rustles around the room. Or as still as I can be when I have to fist my hand to stop it from shaking.

Owen comes back, and I’m expecting the worst, already feeling my heart breaking when I tried so hard not to let it get involved.

I’m definitely not breathing anymore, but the weight I feel isn’t his body holding me down, it’s a weighted blanket, just like the one in my room, that I told him I need in order to sleep.

Owen tucks me in, then pulls something out of his back pocket that he places on the table beside the bed.

I almost break down in tears when he kisses the top of my head and walks out the room, closing the door behind him.

I take a shuddering breath after the click is followed by footsteps going down the stairs. I try to control my emotions, but there’s a rush of them flowing through me. Relief that I’m safe, that he didn’t touch me, that the danger’s gone…but I also feel myself falling. Trusting Owen with the power to break me. Realizing that I would let him. And it terrifies me.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand, so I grab it and see a string of messages from Jason.

Jason

How’s the movie?

It must be over by now, right?

Heading home, want me to come get you?

Maddie?

Everything okay?

Maddie?

The last one was almost an hour ago, so the most recent buzz is from a silly spy app we used forever ago, where the notification of a message received will pop up, but you can’t see what it says or who it’s from without putting in your password.

Jason

I’m in the driveway. Owen says you’re good, that you fell asleep watching TV, but you don’t fucking do that, Maddie, you sleep behind locked doors or with me. So I need you to let me know you’re really good, because I’m coming in to make sure.

Me

I’ll be out in five, Nugget.

I use his old nickname so he knows it’s me, then fold up the blanket and quietly creep down the stairs. My chest aches at the sight of Owen curled up on the much too small couch, clearly uncomfortable, because he gave me his bed.

“Madison.”

Colt is standing in the doorway to a room by the entrance, looking at me with a surprised smile.

“When did you get home?” I ask like this is perfectly normal and I’m not sneaking around in the dark like a burglar in the night.

“Not long. You were both passed out in front of Pride and Prejudice.”