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I winced, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry for that.”
“I know you are. I… That’s one thing I absolutely believe. That you regret it.”
“I do,” I whispered. I wanted so, so badly to wrap him up in my arms and apologize again and again until I didn’t have any voice left. But I was afraid that would just keep him from drinking the potion, or make him put it off longer. And I did not want him sympathizing with me. Yes, it was all killing me, and I hated myself even more than I had over the past year, but that was for me to deal with. I’d put him through enough.
“There’s also…” Owen pressed his lips together. When he spoke again, the waver in his voice made my heart ache: “I don’t want to remember what it’s like to hate you.”
Oh, God. Owen.
Fighting back my own emotions, I squeezed his hand. “I know you don’t. But I don’t want my fuck-up to cost you an entire year of your life. I hate that I hurt you, and that I ruined us. But I’d rather live with that than have you miss out on a whole year. There had to be good memories during that time, and I—Owen, I took too much from you already.”
He sniffed as he wiped at his eyes.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” I said. “And yes, I wish I could take away how much I hurt you. But given the choice between you knowing what I did and you losing an entire year of your life…” I shook my head. “I’d rather you hate me.”
He met my gaze, a tear rolling down his cheek. “But what if Idohate you?”
“Then you do. And I’ll understand.”
“It’s not that you won’t understand.” He exhaled, brushing away that tear. “It’s that I’ll lose you all over again.”
I had to fight hard not to visibly flinch. I didn’t know what to say, either. Another apology sounded useless. Even manipulative. I didn’t want him to feel guilty about whatever emotions followed getting his memory back. I sure as shit didn’t want him feeling bad for my sake.
But what the hell could I do?
Owen laughed bitterly. “I feel so stupid.” He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “It isn’t like I’m going to forget everything we’ve talked about over the last couple of days just because I can remember the past now. It’s…” He huffed sharply and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Do emotions ever make sense?”
He quirked his lips. “Not really.”
I ran my thumb along his. “Listen. We’ve talked things through, and right now, you can see a way forward for us. But feelings are real. And yours were obviously bad enough that you wanted it all to disappear.” It was a fight, but I tried like hell to stay stoic. “Whatever you feel when you remember everything, that’s all valid. And it might mean that this”—I gestured at us with my other hand—“isn’t doable for you anymore.”
He flinched and broke eye contact, but he was still gripping my hand almost painfully tight.
I wanted so, so badly to tell him I loved him, but that just seemed cruel. It would only make his decision harder. He needed to have that year back, for better or worse, and I’d made his life hell already. Somehow, whispering, “I love you,” just felt like kicking him while he was down. Or trying to manipulate him into pushing past whatever emotions came from that bottle. I’d never stopped loving him, but he’d absolutely stopped loving me, and whether he could love me again was out of my hands.
“Drink the potion,” I whispered. “You deserve to have your life back.”
He pressed his lips together. “I know. And I want it back. I’m just… delaying the inevitable, I guess.” He released my hand and rose, tossing the pillow onto the cushion where he was sitting. “The sooner I do, it though…” He didn’t finish that thought. He just shuffled into the kitchen where the bottle was waiting.
I followed him, keeping a cautious distance.
At the kitchen island, Owen regarded the bottle warily. Then he reached for it as hesitantly as I’d reach for a magical pet that might take my arm off. When he closed his fingers around the glass, he pushed out a long breath.
Meeting my eyes, he whispered, “Is it stupid to be nervous?”
“No” was all I said.
He watched me for a moment as if he were expecting me to offer up some kind of reassurance. I had nothing, though. Not even a reminder that I’d be here as long as he needed me. We were both too keenly aware of how quickly he could decide he neither needed nor wanted me anywhere near him.
His gaze drifted back down to the bottle, and he gulped. I thought he’d finally open and drink it this time, but instead, he turned to me. Before I realized what was happening, his hands were on the sides of my neck and his lips were against mine.
I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my arms around him and let him deepen the kiss. Let it linger. Didn’t dare let on that for as gentle and sweet as it was, it was also tearing me apart. It felt like goodbye. It probably was, even if he didn’t know it yet.
He drew back and met my eyes, looking dazed. There was a fire there I recognized all too well, and I knew what was coming.
But I couldn’t handle another round in bed with him. A goodbye kiss was one thing. Goodbye sex with the man who was about to remember just how badly I’d destroyed him? Way too damn much.
