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We’re stuck here until my father comes in to open up in the morning.
“What are we going to do?”
Owen’s eyes search the storage room, and upon noticing the large tray of spare utensils sitting on the shelf, he marches over and takes out a metal spatula. “I’ll see if I can pry it open with this.”
Wedging the spatula into the doorjamb, he grips it with both hands and puts pressure on the handle to try and pry open the latch. A resounding crack reverberates through the air, followed by the distinct clank of the metal spatula head hitting the floor.
Owen’s shoulders slump as he turns to face me with the other half of the broken spatula in his hand.
Fixing his attention back to the container, he straightens his shoulders and glances back at me with a look of determination. “Let’s try again, shall we?”
* * *
Four broken spatulasand three bent forks later, the carnage of our failed attempts at busting out of here lies sprawled out on the floor in front of us.
With the door refusing to budge and remaining welded shut like two plates of steel, we’ve had no option but to accept defeat and bunk down for the night and wait until morning.
Shifting to get more comfortable on the makeshift bed I put together consisting of sacks of flour, rice, and tablecloths, I chance a quick glance at Owen sitting perpendicular to me with his back resting against the metal shelving and his gaze trained across the room.
Tearing my eyes away, a chill rakes down my spine, not only from the temperature rapidly dropping from the cold winter night but also from the frosty silence between Owen and me that’s making the room feel like it’s encased in ice.
Spotting his head turn in my direction out of the corner of my eye, I keep my gaze averted and rub my biceps, hoping to create enough friction to generate some warmth.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Here, put this on,” he says, unbuttoning his jacket, then sitting up and pulling his arms out of the sleeves before holding it out to me.
“What about you?” I ask, tentatively taking it from him.
“I’ll be okay.”
Slipping it over my shoulders, I pull the lapels shut and breathe in the familiar scent of his spicy cologne emitting from the fabric, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me that seems to bring warmth to the bitter coldness of my skin.
“So, when’s the big date?” Owen asks after a beat of silence, his tone lackluster, and my brows pinch together as I watch him staring off into the distance.
“What date?”
“Your date with Noah,” he responds, the sharp bite in his tone like venom dripping off his tongue, and the realization that he doesn’t know I turned Noah down makes my brows lift.
I don’t know why I’d assumed he knew, but now that I think of it, how could he? I’ve kept my mouth firmly shut regarding my conversation with Noah. Solely to protect his privacy and to give the guy a chance to lick his wounds in peace.
Rejection is enough of a blow to one’s pride as it is without having to deal with the gossipmongers of this town talking about it behind your back and picking it apart like the latest episode of a soap opera.
The muscles in his jaw tic as he waits for my answer, and the urge to reach out and massage the tension knotting in his beautiful face prickles along the palm of my hand.
“There’s no date,” I respond softly, and his eyes immediately snap to mine with a questioning look. “I turned him down.”
A hint of light streams through his emerald orbs, dissolving the gloomy shadows that have been cast over them all week, and the sight makes warmth bloom in my chest.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you,” I murmur, my pulse picking up speed and my breaths suddenly turning shallow as I attempt to speak all those words yet to be said. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t hate you, Owen. It’s just—”
“I know,” he interrupts me, and his eyes meet mine, the profound understanding swimming deep within them, seeming to say everything that’s yet to be said.
Being at war with each other is all we’ve ever known, and the foundation of our relationship has been built on a ground so unstable that it wasn’t equipped to deal with the sudden shift in our dynamic.
The result has left us lost and struggling to figure out how we’re supposed to navigate our way down this newfound path when we have no compass to guide the way.
