Page 22 of Dear Owen

His words were tender, thoughtful, and they should’ve brought comfort. But all they did was make me feel heavier, like the weight of my own guilt and confusion might crush me entirely.

“I can’t stay long,” Liam continued, his voice laced with regret. “If I’m gone too long, it’ll look suspicious. Owen’s already going to know you’re gone, but I’ll do everything I can to keep him off your trail.”

I nodded faintly, still unable to meet his eyes.

The doorbell rang, and Liam shot me a quick look before disappearing to answer it. The faint sound of conversation drifted back as he greeted the delivery driver. When he returned, he was balancing a stack of takeout containers, the aroma wafting through the air and making my stomach churn in unexpected hunger.

He set the food down on the coffee table, opening a few containers to reveal a spread that could’ve fed an entire party. Burgers, sushi, salads, pizza, sandwiches, even a few desserts. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I just... got everything.”

I stared at the food, the sight of it overwhelming. I should’ve felt grateful. I should’ve been able to say something, anything. But I couldn’t.

Liam sat down beside me, his hand hovering near mine again. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not ready,” he said gently. “But it’s here when you are.

“Kira,” he said softly, his hand brushing mine for the first time. It was warm, steady, and nothing like Owen’s. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

He stood, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned to leave. The sound of the front door clicking shut echoed through the house, leaving me alone once again.

I stared at the phone, the credit card, and the untouched food on the table, their presence a strange reminder that I was free. Or at least, that I could be. But the weight of my own mind, the memories of everything Owen had done—and everything I still felt for him—kept me rooted in place.

I wasn’t free. Not really.

And I didn’t know if I ever would be.

Twenty

I spottedLiam near the edge of campus, his relaxed stride a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside me. He hadn’t seen me yet, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The leather bracelet in my pocket burned like a brand, a damning reminder of his betrayal. Every step I took toward him stoked the fire in my chest.

“Liam.” My voice sliced through the hum of campus chatter, sharp and cold.

His head jerked up, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with practiced indifference. “Owen. What’s up?”

I didn’t bother with words. I grabbed his arm in an iron grip and yanked him toward the nearest alcove between two buildings. His protests fell on deaf ears as I dragged him into the shadowed nook, the tension crackling in the air between us.

“Owen, what the hell?” he snapped, yanking his arm free. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” I snarled, yanking the bracelet from my pocket. I held it up, the worn leather glinting faintly in the dim light. “This is my problem.”

Liam’s eyes flicked to the bracelet before meeting mine, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I barked, throwing the bracelet at his chest. “I found this in a place it shouldn’t have been.”

The slightest flicker of recognition crossed his face before he caught himself. “That’s not mine.”

“Bullshit.” I stepped closer, my fists trembling with the effort to hold myself back. “You’ve worn this thing every day for months. Don’t lie to me, Liam.”

He scoffed, catching the bracelet and shoving it into his pocket. “You’re losing it, man. Maybe you dropped it there yourself.”

The words ignited something primal in me. I grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the brick wall. “Where is she?” My voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with barely-contained rage.

Liam didn’t flinch. His gaze stayed locked on mine, steady and unyielding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me!” I snarled, slamming him against the wall again. “You were in the old science building. You took her. Where is she?”

For a moment, Liam’s mask slipped. Guilt flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Even if I did know,” he said coolly, “you think I’d tell you? After what you’ve done to her?”

“What I’ve done?” I hissed, my grip on him tightening. “You don’t understand?—”

“I understand more than you think,” he interrupted, shoving me back hard enough to make me stumble. “You locked her in a fucking basement, Owen. No one’s supposed to be in that building, and you used it to hurt her. You don’t get to stand here and play the victim.”

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