Page 17 of Fragile Hearts

Grinning, I step closer, running my hand over the little dog as I say, “Apparently, he was missing you. Thought maybe he should move in too.”

I seriously missed my fluffy little baby so much, and I can’t even believe Owen went and got him. This has made my night, especially after the long day I’ve had. I feel like I should throw my arms around Owen and thank him profusely, but something stops me, a concern that, again, it will cross the line from roommates to more.

“Did Alana tell you to come get him?” I ask, setting Mochi down and heading back outside, where I was sitting before Owen came in.

The view from the back deck is spectacular, and I love watching the sun sink into the ocean, the waves lapping quietly at the shore.

“No, but why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to bring your dog?” Owen says, his words coming with a bit more of a demand than I’m used to. He’s normally so chill, rarely raising his voice about anything. But now, there’s a bite to them, like he’s upset with me for not bringing Mochi here.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to push things. It was already really nice of you to let me move in, and what, I was supposed to ask to bring my dog too?”

“Yes.” Owen’s single-word answer catches me off guard, and I’m not sure what to say. “It’s not like you’re living here for free, and even if you were, he’s your dog, Sloane. Where you go, he goes.”

The worst part of this conversation is that I want to tell him that’s not always true. Just because something is yours doesn’t mean it gets to come too.

Thinking back on everything I’ve lost over the years, he doesn’t know what that feels like and how I’ve just learned to cope: leaving behind toys and dolls and stuffies and clothes. At one point, I even lost the one picture I had of my mom.

Not that it matters now. As an adult, I realize she wasn’t worth having around, but as a kid, I held tightly to the belief that she was going to come back for me. She never did, and I know now she had opportunities to but failed.

I will never be that type of mother, but as I think this, I realize I just was. I left Mochi with Alana because I was afraid to ask Owen if I could have him here. Never again. Everything that is mine will now come first. Adding this to the list of things I get to do now that I live on my own.

Sort of on my own. I’m relying on Owen right now.

“You’re right,” I say quietly again, reminding myself to be louder, to be my own voice.

Mochi follows us out onto the deck, frolicking down the steps and into the small yard. Sniffing around, he goes to the bathroom and then instantly sprints back up to me.

I sit down, and he jumps up into my lap and settles in, letting out a contented sigh, and I can’t believe I left him with Alana. Not that I don’t think she was taking good care of him, but because I feel horribly guilty now.

“Let it go, Sloane,” Owen says, and I turn to look at him. He can’t possibly know what I’m thinking, but it feels like he does. “Mochi’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“Thanks.”

We sit silently for a few minutes, the sun beginning to set, the sky filling with the most beautiful shades of orange and pink, making the ocean look like it’s on fire. I take it in, reminding myself that I get to start over tomorrow.

I don’t need to keep things from Owen, and if we’re going to make this roommates thing work, I need to be more open to letting him in.

“How was your day?” I now ask him, trying for friendly, something Daisy, Alana and I would do when our night would end.

Living with Owen should be no different than that. Even if he is a hot surfer with a body that looks like it was made for women. He has the sweetest smile with a dimple that dots his cheek when his grin widens, hair that is always disheveled from the saltwater of the ocean, slightly lighter at the ends.

He doesn’t look rich, but he is. Filthy rich, the kind of rich that people dream about. Private jets and massive homes, a portfolio of luxury hotels, which I’m sure he’s the heir to.

It’s a lot.

But I try not to let this affect my opinion of him. He’s never given me a reason to dislike him based on this. If anything, he’s the humblest person I know, and not just that, incredibly giving.

His family donates massive amounts of money to Mitch’s surf school and is always willing to help out when anyone needs it. Case in point: letting me move in.

“Not bad,” Owen now answers. “Class, lessons, a couple of hours at The Pipe Dream. How about you?”

“Pretty much the same. Class, and then I had this stupid seminar on de-escalation for work,” I say, rolling my eyes. But what I just said was not the best idea. “Oh my god,” I now say, covering my face with my hands, the heat creeping onto my cheeks. “It wasn’t stupid. Your parents are the ones who scheduled it.”

“I’m sure it was stupid. All that stuff is boring. Why do you think I don’t work there?” he says, laughing. “I did for a couple of summers while I was in high school, and shit, it sucked.”

“Really? What did you do?” I ask, not that I think he wouldn’t work there. It’s just funny to hear him say it sucked.

All jobs suck, but I will admit, working at Orchid Bay isn’t so bad. I get paid pretty well, and they’re great about working around my school schedule. The worst part is the wealthy tourists who think the resort is there to do everything they ask. And maybe we are. They do pay a ridiculous amount of money to stay there.

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