Page 34 of All of Me

Owen’s hands find mine, warm and steady. “You think it was the birth control all along.”

I nod, my throat tightening. “I don’t know why I never connected the dots. I just… I thought something was wrong with me.”

Owen lets out a breath, his fingers tightening around mine. Not in frustration, not in impatience—just in quiet, unwavering support. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says firmly. “And if this has been making things worse all this time… then I’m so damn glad you’re figuring it out now.” He shakes his head slightly, his thumb sweeping over my knuckles. “But I hate that you ever thought it was just you. That you carried that alone for so long.”

A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. Owen catches it with his thumb, his expression raw.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like that again,” he murmurs. “Not now. Not ever.”

I press my lips together, my breath shaky. “I just want to feel like myself again.”

Owen shifts his chair closer, his knees bumping mine, his hands still holding onto me like he’s afraid I might disappear. “Then that’s what we do. Whatever it takes, Callie. I don’t care what it is. I just want you happy.”

The words break something inside me. Not in a painful way—but in the way that lets light in.

I let out a shaky laugh, wiping my face. “You always make it sound so simple.”

Owen smiles, leaning in until his forehead rests against mine. “It is simple,” he whispers. “Because you’re what matters most.”

A few hours later, the house is still, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only comes after a long day. The hum of the baby monitor is a steady presence in the background, a soft reminder that both girls are asleep—Ruby in Sara’s old crib, and Sara curled up in her new toddler bed, clutching Jeffrey the Giraffe. Neither of them has stirred since we laid them down, worn out from the day’s chaos.

The bedroom is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, shadows stretching along the walls. The silence should be soothing, but inside me, there’s still a weight I can’t shake. Owen sits beside me in bed, his presence solid and grounding, a quiet anchor in the storm of my thoughts. He’s leaning back against the headboard, his arm draped loosely over my waist, his other hand tracing slow, absent-minded circles along my wrist.

I exhale, trying to match his easy stillness. But something inside me is still restless. Owen shifts, turning toward me more fully, his fingers brushing up my arm before settling against my cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I hesitate, chewing my lip for a second. “Do you ever think about what life would be like if we hadn’t met?”

Owen stills slightly, his thumb pausing where it had been moving along my wrist. His brow furrows, like he doesn’t love the thought but knows better than to brush it off. “Not really,” he admits. “I don’t like imagining my world without you in it.”

I let out a slow breath, staring at the way our hands fit so perfectly together. “I don’t either. I just can’t believe how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. I guess it just hit me earlier, how different everything could have been. If I hadn’t made that damn FlameFinder profile, my life would be completely different right now. I would have still been alone, raising the girls on my own, trying to convince myself I didn’t need anyone. I’d probably still be in that tiny apartment, scraping by, telling myself that I was a strong, independent woman and I could do it all by myself.” Owen’s grip tightens on my hand, but he doesn’t interrupt. “And Ruby–” My voice falters, and I clear my throat. “She wouldn’t have someone who shows up the way you do. Who loves her without hesitation. Who loves us all without hesitation.”

He wraps his arms around me fully, like he needs to remind me that he’s here to stay. That this life is really ours. “I hate the thought of not having you girls in my life,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

He exhales, his fingers tracing slow, careful lines over my skin. “You know what I do think about though?”

I tilt my head slightly to look at him. “What’s that?”

He smirks. “The fact that I somehow managed to end up with someone who doesn’t understand how terrible Nickleback is.”

“You are ridiculous. Nickleback is a gem for my generation,” I tease.

“Love, I may be nine years older than you but we are technically the same generation. And I can confirm that Nickelback is not, in fact, a gem.”

I scoff, pretending to be offended. “Agree to disagree then.”

“Guess so.”

A small smile pulls at my lips as he shifts, his fingers slipping beneath my chin, lifting my gaze to his. The teasing fades just slightly, replaced by something softer. Something heavier, but in a good way. Owen sees me. Feels me.

“So what can I do to ease your mind?”

“Right now,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, “I just need you.”

Owen exhales, his gaze searching mine, something raw and unshakable in his expression. He cups my face, his touch achingly gentle, like he’s trying to tell me without words that he’s here, that he’s always going to be here.

“You’ve got me,” he says again, his voice rougher this time, thick with something I can’t name. “Always.”

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