Page 17 of Dear Owen

What happened to Sinclair?

Dude’s out of it. Never seen him play that bad.

They weren’t wrong.

I didn’t even bother showering before changing out of my gear. My hands shook as I laced up my boots, my mind racing.She’s fine,I told myself. I’d left her with food, with water, with her Kindle and iPod. But it didn’t help. It wasn’t enough.

As I zipped up my hoodie, I heard the soft click of heels outside the locker room. Jasmine was waiting for me, leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her long blonde hair fell over one shoulder, perfectly styled as always.

“Rough game out there,” she said, her voice laced with faux sympathy.

“Not now,” I muttered, brushing past her.

But Jasmine wasn’t one to take no for an answer. She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “What’s going on with you, Owen? You’ve been off for weeks. That wasn’t just a bad game—it was a train wreck.”

“I’m fine,” I said flatly.

She tilted her head, studying me. Her green eyes were sharp, always watching, always calculating. “Maybe you need a distraction. Hotel room tonight? You know how much I love helping you unwind.”

Her manicured fingers grazed my arm, but I jerked away. The suddenness of it made her blink, her smirk faltering for just a moment.

“I said not now.” My voice was low, dangerous, and it was enough to make her step back.

“Wow,” she said, her tone cool but tinged with something else—curiosity. “You really are off your game. I don’t think I’veeverseen you turn me down.” She gave me one last appraising look before stepping aside. “Maybe you’re not feeling well.”

I didn’t respond, shoving past her as I shouldered my bag. The stares from my teammates burned into my back as I walked away, but I didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them wonder what was wrong with me.

Because the only thing that mattered was getting back to her.

The bus ride back to the hotel was a blur.

I sat in the back, headphones in, staring out the window as the trees blurred past. Jasmine and the others were a few rows ahead, their laughter and whispers grating on my nerves. I clenched my fists, trying to block out the noise, but my thoughts were louder.

Kira. Alone. Waiting.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking through the haze. I pulled it out, half expecting to see her name on the screen—a message, a missed call—but that was impossible. The phone I’d taken from her was tucked away safely in my dorm.

Still, my chest twisted painfully as I unlocked my screen. A message from Liam popped up.

Liam:Dude, are you good? You’ve been weird as hell lately.

I stared at it for a long moment before locking the phone again, my jaw tight. I wasn’t good. I wasn’t anything.

But I would be soon.

In just two days, I’d be back. I’d walk through the door, and Kira would be there, curled up on the mattress where I’d left her, waiting for me. And everything would be fine.

Because it had to be.

Sixteen

The air was still.Heavy.

Even the faint buzzing of the lightbulb overhead had fallen into silence, like it too was holding its breath, waiting for me to make a move. I sat on the edge of the blow-up mattress, staring at the floor, my hands resting limply in my lap.

I couldn’t cry anymore.

I thought I’d run out of tears a long time ago, but the ache in my chest had found a way to dig even deeper. My body felt hollow, a husk of skin and bones that wasn’t mine anymore. My heart had stopped feeling like it belonged to me, too. Owen had stolen it, torn it apart, and left me to sit in the ruins of what remained.

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