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“Yeah.”
He turns his head slightly to the side, studying me. “Nova?”
“Yes?” I draw out the word.
“Are you okay? And don’t answer with an automatic, yeah. I want to know the truth.”
My shoulders slouch. “No. No, I’m not.”
“Talk to me,” he pleads. “Let it out. You know I’d never judge you. Talk and pretend I’m not here.”
Looking down at the table and watching the little pieces of white float down as I break them off the wrapper, I begin, “I had to give birth to my son, and I didn’t even get to hear him cry, or take his first breath. There was nothing. Only silence.” I press my lips together and Owen doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for me to continue. “It was like what happened with Greyson again, but so, so much worse. But the worst part was, even though I wasn’t alone, I felt more alone than I ever had. I felt myself drifting from Jace and that hurt the most.”
I pretend not to notice the subtle wince Owen has at the mention of Jace’s name.
He takes a breath. “I don’t know what to say—I don’t think there’s anything I can say, to make this better. But I think you should realize you have a lot of people who love and care about you and you’re not alone in this.” He swallows thickly and continues. “In fact, Jace is going through the same thing right now. If there’s anyone who can understand your pain, it’s him.”
I bow my head. Those words coming from Owen are like a bucket of cold water poured on me.
“It’s not that simple.”
He shakes his head. “Everything is simple. It’s our minds that make things complicated.”
“What did you think?” Owen asks, leaning against the railing of the ferry beside me.
The backdrop of the city is stunning as we head away from the Statue of Liberty.
“It smells,” I reply.
He chuckles, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, it kind of does.”
My hair whips around my shoulders and I know I should put it back in a ponytail or messy bun but I like that I can hide behind it. Sometimes, I catch Owen staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out, and I’m scared once he does I won’t like what he finds.
“Are you really happy?” I ask him. He startles at my words—hell, even I startle at them because I wasn’t expecting to say them.
“Now that you’re here, yes,” he admits. “Before, I was kind of lonely. I mean, I have friends, don’t get me wrong, but none them really know me.”
“You know I can’t stay here forever, right?”
His jaw clenches and he looks down at the water, biting out a clipped, “I know.”
I’m not sure he does, though. I think there’s a part of Owen that thinks, or at least hopes, I’ll decide to stay here, stay with him, forever.
But why go backward when you’re moving forward?
I know nothing I do or say is going to change what he thinks.
He’s holding on to something that no longer exists while I’m letting go of something great.
Clearly, I’m an idiot.
But these days away, I’m already starting to feel clearer. Yeah, I’m still infinitely sad, but I don’t feel as foggy. When I got up and got ready this morning it wasn’t because I felt I had to, it was because I wanted to.
I even put on one of my shirts with their weird sayings. This one saying, you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.
The ferry jolts and I fall into Owen. His arms come around me to catch me before I fall.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’ve always got you.”
