Page 35 of Fragile Hearts

I lean into his touch, slipping closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder, letting his arms cradle me. It’s always been easier to talk about my life when I’m not looking at the person, not wanting to see the judgment on their face.

“I have something called food insecurity, and I hate it,” I admit, my heart racing a little as the words leave my mouth. “It’s where I worry that I won’t have enough to eat because, as a kid, it happened a lot.”

I stop, waiting for Owen to respond, and when he doesn’t, I continue. My head is still resting on his shoulder, but his hand is now brushing soft circles over my back.

“It’s why I won’t ever eat the last of something and why I never throw out leftovers. It’s why I’ll pretty much eat anything. I lived in foster homes where withholding food was used as a punishment. But I also lived in places where there wasn’t ever enough food. It really fucks kids up.”

Owen holds me closer, tighter. His lips drop to my head, letting them rest there in the sweetest of gestures, and I close my eyes, taking in the comfort I find with him.

“I want to tell you that you’re safe with me, and that you will never experience anything like that again, but I know that doesn’t help.”

His words hold so much weight. There’s no dismissal in them, nothing telling me that it isn’t real or that I should just get over it.

“Whatever you need, just ask me, and I’ll do it,” Owen adds, and I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

I close them, willing myself not to cry, not to let this conversation get to me, and it isn’t the part about me sharing that has me choked up. It’s Owen. It’s everything he says. He has no idea how much it means to me to have him accept me, to have him just be here with me.

“You’ve already done so much.” I burrow into the crook of his neck, loving how calm he makes me feel. “Just having a place to live is more than enough.”

His fingers slip under my T-shirt, bare skin to bare skin now as they caress my back, but there’s nothing sexual about it. No preconceived notion that this will go further. Just the simplicity of his touch to remind me that he’s here.

“Do you want to tell me why you took me to the ground that day I came home and surprised you?” he now says, and I tense a little in his arms. That day was not my finest hour, and all the feelings that came rushing back then almost sent me spiraling to a place I hadn’t been in so long.

“I think you already know why.” The words come out a little harsher than I intend, and I quickly apologize.

Owen shakes his head, not saying anything, but the way his hand moves along my back, his fingers brushing so gently, telling me there’s no need for an apology.

“I learned to defend myself at an early age because I had to. Random guys my mom would bring home. Foster dads trying to sneak into my room at night.” A lump forms in my throat, my words getting trapped behind it. “Nothing ever happened to me, but it was scary enough just knowing it could. At least not that I remember. I learned how to barricade a door with simple things like a sock or a fork. I even once locked myself in with a penny.” I laugh a little, remembering how the door had to be taken off the hinges to get the penny out. “There were times when I would rather have slept outside on the beach than in the house I was living in. Moving in with Alana changed all of that. And now living here…” I trail off, not finishing my thought because I’m not even sure how to thank Owen for his kindness.

I pick my head up off Owen’s shoulder, my hand resting on his chest, and I can feel the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“This is the safest I’ve felt in my whole life. Right here with you, in this house, in that bedroom, in your arms.”

He doesn’t say anything, our eyes meeting, his gorgeous green eyes flecked with gold that hold no judgment.

And without giving it another thought, I kiss him. It’s tender and sweet, my hand cupping his jaw, his eyes falling closed. I scatter kisses along his cheek and his neck, soft and simple. Each time my lips touch his skin, they’re a thank you.

We sit like this, my head back on his shoulder, the sound of our breathing matching the gentle waves that lap at the shore. Days could pass and I wouldn’t know it because being here with Owen is like a dream. A dream I never want to wake up from.

“We should probably get to bed,” Owen says, breaking the peacefulness of our evening.

“Yeah.”

I climb off his lap, looking down at Mochi, who has been quietly sleeping at our feet. As soon as I stand, he jumps up, spinning around. He knows it’s time for bed.

“Ready, little guy?” I ask him, and he yips, making Owen laugh.

“He has the tiniest bark. I don’t think he could scare a fly,” Owen jokes, and I can’t help but agree.

“But he’s really loyal, and that has to count for something, right?”

“Totally.”

We both head inside with Mochi trailing behind. Owen locks up the house, and before I know it, we’re both in our respective rooms.

And I’m staring at the ceiling, my brain focused on how much I want to kiss Owen again. I’m never going to fall asleep tonight, and just as I’m trying, Mochi jumps from my bed, scrambling out into the hallway.

His little claws tap dance along the wood floor, and I hear the creak as he noses open Owen’s bedroom door.

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