Page 45 of Sparks Still Fly

“I need you to know that I cut everyone off because I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t recognize myself. I thought I had nothing left to give.” I smile gently, thankful that all of those sentences were in the past tense.

“One day, my psychiatrist gave me a puzzle. A code to crack. I wasn’t talking about what happened, so I guess she figured it would give me something to do. I took it back to my room at the facility they had me in and worked on it for a few hours. I brought it back to her the next day and asked her if she had any more. She told me it should have been nearly impossible for me to solve it. That she’d only ever seen one person come close after months of trying. Apparently, she wanted to give me something to work toward. To keep my mind busy with something other than reliving the hell I somehow walked out of.” I can feel the ache in my chest building as he speaks, but then something changes. He takes another breath, less strangled this time, and shrugs one shoulder.

“I started cracking more codes. I knew I wasn’t going back on the ground, so when the doctor cleared me, I moved into cyber security and did that for the Marine Corps until I left. That’s when Aegis was born. Raf left at the same time as me, and we needed something... anything... to keep ourselves occupied. And... I think you can fill in the gaps. I went back to the East Coast, made amends with my mom, and eventually Elaina. And now I’m here. With you.”

He faces me then, my knees fitting in between his, our hands together in the middle of us. Two hot tears roll down my cheeks as the weight of his words hit me. The anger is still there, still nagging at me, but it’s not taking up as much space as before. It’s been replaced with sadness, guilt, and what feels oddly like helplessness. None of us knew about any of this, so no one was able to help him through it other than his doctors and whatever colleagues he let in at the time.

When more tears come, he brings both hands up to cradle my face, tipping it up as he brushes away the wetness with his thumbs. I will myself not to think too hard about why my tears flow so willingly with him.

“Don’t cry for me, fengári mou. It’s over now.” One of his hands goes to the seat of my stool, and he pulls me closer to him. He tucks some hair behind my ear, and as more tears silently fall, he kisses them away with a reverence I’ve never felt from anyone. And when a loud sob racks me, he pulls me close, cradling my head on his chest. My arms go around his waist, holding on tightly and the connection to him soothes something in me. He’s here, and he’s safe now. He didn’t leave me.

After we’ve spent some time just holding on to one another, and once my tears have stopped, I pull back, struggling to look at him.

Eventually, I do bring my eyes back to his and say the only thing I can think of.

“I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m so, so deeply sorry.” He shakes his head, brows pulling together in disagreement with what I’ve just said.

“There’s nothing for you to say sorry for. I’m the one who needs to apologize, Maeve. I’m the one who should be groveling and begging for your forgiveness. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Other than the way you left things, neither did you, O.” My words surprise him, his eyebrows lift, and his eyes widen. If he really feels that even after everything that happened, I blame him for the rift between us, then I have a lot to explain to him.

“You didn’t,” I repeat. “Yes, it was unfortunate timing, and I spent a lot of time being angry with you, but you were in an impossible situation. I see that now.”

We sit in silence for a little bit, and I soak up the moment, going over everything that was just said in my head.

“So where do we go from here?” I may as well be asking him what are we, but I don’t care. I just want to know where he thinks we stand.

“Anywhere you want, Maevey. I know our marriage isn’t real, that I come with more baggage than anyone should, and that I’m about to add even more to my plate with a baby. I know this isn’t what you wanted, and fuck, I don’t even know if I’m what you wanted, but here we are. At least for now.” He relaxes his shoulders, bringing his hands to my arms, and his forehead to mine.

“Just please, please don’t hate me anymore. I don’t think I can take it.” His voice is a whisper, and the words travel slowly, like dripping honey from my head to my toes. The hurt in his voice is crystal clear, and it dissolves all the anger I had left.

“I don’t.” The words spill out faster than I can register them, but I don’t take them back. I shake my head and lift it up to look at him, swallowing back a lump in my throat when I see more unshed tears in his eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Owen. I’m sorry I said that. I was angry, but I didn’t mean it. I hate the anger that I felt. I hate that I didn’t understand why things happened the way they did. But you?” I shake my head again, willing my tears to stay put, but they don’t listen to my silent plea. Owen catches them with his thumbs and brings his face closer, so close our lips are nearly touching.

Please. Please, please, please. Kiss me senseless. Please.

Our lips brush as he says, “Thank you.” And when I think he’s about to give in, he pulls back, moves his hands to my shoulders, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. My skin tingles and vibrates from the loss of his touch as I try to make sense of the roller coaster of a conversation we just disembarked. My stomach churns, and my head swims as I sway in my seat, trying to find solid ground beneath me once again.

What the bloody hell? Why did he stop? Why did he get so close in the first place? Why do I want him to kiss me?

“We should eat.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat and reaches for the bacon.

“Oh. Right.” As if on cue, my stomach rumbles and I catch the corner of Owen’s lips lift up at the sound.

“You still like sprinkle donuts best, Maevey?” He looks at me, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Mmhmm.” I reach for another donut and before I can bring it to my mouth, he raises his, holding it toward me. I freeze as the memories rush in.

“To...us. To figuring this out.” He touches his donut to mine, and I nod dumbly.

“Yeah.” I can’t think of anything else to say, so I bite into my donut, hoping the sugar rushes to my brain and puts some cohesive thoughts back in there.

24/

you should take a picture.

maeve

---