Page 79 of Snowbound
I dry my hair slowly, deliberately. No rush.
I have no regrets about the jobs I do. The work I’ve done. The only thing I’d change is how I treated Emma.
I let her go.
Would I have chosen a different path if I knew the two of us had a chance? Yeah, of course. But now? I’m in too deep.
I drag the towel across my scalp, slow, rhythmic, my eyes closed. And just like that—I’m back there.
Back home. Back in the woods behind the house, where the creek ran cold even in the dead heat of summer.
Five years ago
“Let’s go for a swim,”she said, her eyes dancing.
Her mom was working. So was my dad.
It was a lazy summer afternoon. She’d just graduated. I didn’t have a shift until nighttime.
“Aye,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I swallowed hard when she stepped out in that one-piece black bathing suit. Modest as hell and covered way more skin than the tiny scraps the girls at the town pool wore.
But still—she was beautiful.
And I loved her.
I noticed the curve of her hips. The soft swell of her breasts. The strip of bare skin where her back arched.
Untouchable.
And I wanted her so fucking bad.
I turned away, but not before I saw the way she looked at me.
I was bare-chested, wearing just swim trunks. My body was cut—hours in the gym, training like it mattered.
At nineteen, that’s what a guy did. Muscle meant something. I had a few tattoos then.
And the abs.
And the arms.
And she knew it.
She came downstairs and stopped cold. Eyes wide, mouth parted.
Might’ve been the first time she ever really saw me like that.
“Why is it,” she asked, hands on her hips, “that women get screamed at for not covering up, but men walk around all summer half-naked, and no one says a damn thing?”
“Fucking double standard,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“It is a fucking double standard?—”
“Hey,” I cut her off, snapping a little. “Mind your tongue.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? You’re telling me not to swear? When we’re literally talking about a double standard? Owen, listen to yourself.”
