Page 66 of Head Over Skates

“Are you seriously not going to leave? You're gonna stay here on the floor for the entire night?”

“If I have to.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my fingers over my temples. “You can have the couch, but don’t even think about trying anything.”

“You really think I’m here to have my way with you?”

“Are you?”

He has to think about that for way too long.

“That depends. Do you want me to have my way with you?”

Yes.

I roll my eyes. “I bought a value pack of toothbrushes at Costco. You can have one.”

He follows me inside, watches me bolt up my door, looks around at ev-er-y-thing. He’s too big for this small space. Larger than life. I feel almost exposed having him here. Like it’s too intimate.

Also, I kind of want to jump his bones, so there’s that.

I run my mantra through my head.No pucks, no sticks, no goals. No pucks, no sticks, no goals.

He gestures to the plate of cheese and apples on my coffee table. “Don’t let me keep you from your… dinner?”

“I like a late-night snack sometimes. I couldn’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us.”

“You really don’t have to worry about me. I’ve lived here for almost a year and have never had a problem.”

“You’re not even going to ask how easy it was for me to get in the building? I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying as long as you live in this place.”

I study him for a minute. Really study him. He’s so protective of his brother, anyone would think Cyrus is his son. Not just me jumping to conclusions. And that night at the bar when he got that creep to leave me alone. He was kinda scary. And tonight, standing sentinel outside my apartment. This is just the way Owen is. Carrying other people’s burdens on his shoulders. If he’s not careful, one day he’ll collapse under all that weight… or make me fall for him.

I sit on the lumpy couch, offering him to sit and share my snack. He accepts an apple slice.

“So... for what it’s worth,” I say. “I think it’s chivalrous of you to camp out to make sure I was okay.”

He leans back into my lumpy couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Even in repose, his body radiates a coiled strength beneath the surface.

“I can’t let you get hurt on my watch.”

"Why are you so determined to be my protector, anyway? I haven’t exactly been nice to you."

Owen's jaw tightens. "Let's just say I know what it's like to feel alone and vulnerable."

He falls quiet, staring down at his hands. I get the sense there's more he wants to say.

"You can talk to me," I offer gently.

He reaches up and scratches his beard. I wish that was my job. Owen’s beard scratcher. The Titans can add that to my duties.

"It's just..." Owen starts, then stops himself. He rubs the back of his neck. "I know what it's like… not having someone look out for you."

I wait for him to continue, sensing there's more he wants to say.

"My dad wasn't exactly Father of the Year," he says finally. “Mom must have known he had mistresses. He was never home, always traveling for work. But when Shannon showed up on our doorstep very, very pregnant, the you-know-what hit the fan. And she’s not the only one. I know of at least two other ladies in other provinces, and there’s probably more. I could have siblings all over Canada and not even know it.”

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