Page 106 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“Thanks. I’m going to get out of here.”

“What about Owen?”

“Owen’s busy. He has a training facility to build. I have a funeral to plan.”

“Lu, let him help you.”

“He helped. He let me cry it out. This isn’t his problem, Stef.” I give my friend a kiss on the cheek, offering a sad smile. “I got this.”

“Please Lu, I know you’re strong but the man—”

“I’m not angry at Owen. There’s no point. It’s a terrific undertaking, building the training facility. It’s going to help so many people, Stefani. Owen needs Charlotte. Sometimes you have to sleep with the enemy. Will you thank him for me?”

“He’s going to be furious if you leave without telling him,” Stefani warns.

“No, he won’t. We both have jobs to do, people to take care of. I’ll see you later.”

I pull open the bathroom door, stopping short. Not ten feet in front of me stands Owen and Charlotte.

Just wonderful.

“Tally, I didn’t know where you were.” Owen rushes forward, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Are you ready?”

I look past him, to where Charlotte stands observing the scene. I don’t pick up on any hostility from her, but then, I’m not picking up onanyemotion from her. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go.”

I put my hand to his chest. “I know you’re busy. I can handle this alone.”

His eyes bulge, and he shakes his head. “No way in hell, Tally.”

“But Charlotte needs you—”

“No, she doesn’t. You do, even if you’d sooner die than admit it.”

I open my mouth to protest, but one look at his steel-gray eyes tells me to drop the argument. I’m not winning this one. “I have to go to the funeral home and—” It’s all I can manage, as Owen presses my head to his chest.

“We’ll get it done, Darlin,” he murmurs, guiding me down the hall.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Charlotte says as we walk past, but I can only mumble a garbled thanks.

I don’t have the energy to fight anyone anymore.

24

Owen

“I’ll meet you at the apartment,” Tally says, forcing a smile as she digs out her keys.

I snatch the keys from her hand, shoving them in my pocket. “Nice try. We’re leaving your car here.”

“But I need my car—”

“We’ll use my car. This is not an argument you’re going to win. Now, you can get into my car or you can go digging for your keys.” I have to speak Tally’s language. Namely, sarcasm with a challenge.

I see her weighing her options, before sliding into my passenger side seat.

I glance over at her, my heart breaking. She looks so small and lost. “Would you rather take care of the planning first or go home and rest?”

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