Page 89 of The Best I Never Had

“Maybe not,” Johnny says into the microphone, “but this round is, which means we’re out of couples, and we have a winner. Everyone give it up for my twin and Jayce, who are only a year and a half into their relationship and still wiped the floor with all y’all.”

“What about Owen and Thea?” Gabriel calls out, and I glare at him. “They haven’t had a turn.”

“We’re not together, asshole,” Owen says.

The room sucks in a breath. This isn’t the Owen everyone knows, the one who is sweet and accommodating. That Owen would never curse in front of the family, would never call out Gabriel’s behavior like that. He’d have walked onto the stage, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. I’d be proud of him, if the way he was looking around the room didn’t feel like it was really aimed at me.

“But you were,” Gabriel says, unfazed by Owen’s callout. “And for almost as long as Tommy and Jayce. Don’t let Tommy win. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

I don’t get what’s happening—the scowl on Owen’s face and the way he won’t look at me directly. I want his smile back, the dimple I have to work for and the soft look in his eyes.

Owen’s jaw tenses. “Are we done?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just slams his way out of the French doors.

“What was that about?” Addy asks while I blink at the door.

“I … I don’t know.”

It takes a few extra seconds, but then I charge after him. I run to catch up, calling out his name as he reaches the inn. He doesn’t pause, pushing through the front door.

He’s halfway up the first flight of stairs when I catch up to him. “What’s going on?”

Owen’s long legs don’t stop, eating up the space between him and the third floor where we’re both staying. “Nothing.”

“Oh yes,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice that I hope will break through whatever’s going on in his head. “This definitely feels like nothing.”

My stomach drops further when he doesn’t respond, reaching his room and tapping his key card against the lock. He walks through the door without a backward glance. My instinct is to walk away, to say fuck it—fuck him—if that’s how he’s going to behave.

But he let me yell and rage. He was supportive when I was at my worst, and he deserves a bit of that patience given back to him. If he thinks this conversation is ending here, he doesn’t know me as well as I thought.

Chapter 27

OWEN

The door almost makes it closed before Thea slams it open.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” she asks, letting the heavy wood swing closed behind her.

The click feels ominous in this space that’s way too small for all the things I’m feeling. Hurt and anger, but also this intense longing to go back to yesterday when we were curled up together on a bed of hay, sharing our secrets and our bodies. I was filled with hope. Blindly optimistic about our future.

She’s breathtaking today in a turquoise dress, the first dress I’ve seen her in since the welcome party. Way more casual, but no less devastating. Something about the fabric makes her glow—her golden skin and golden hair—like Midas’s most prized possession. Of course I couldn’t hold on to someone like that.

God, I’ve never felt so ridiculous in my life. She’s perfect, gorgeous and funny and clever, and I let myself believe she’d want me.

“What did I do?” she asks, and it’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen her. It makes me want to throw myself at her feet.

Instead, my legs give out and I drop onto the bed. I’m exhausted. Seeing her upset is killing me. Even now, I don’t want to hurt her. It’s not her fault that I built this up to be more than it was. She deserves the opportunity to do something she loves. I know how much she misses her work, and Camila would be a great boss. She’d be happy here. Fulfilled. How fucking selfish am I that I’m mad at her for building a good life for herself?

She stands in front of me, and without my conscious consent, my legs spread, and I pull her body closer. My head drops to her chest, and she runs her hand through my hair in a move that makes me feel like every cell has suddenly sprung to attention.

“Please talk to me,” she whispers, and my grip tightens on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not being fair to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her voice is so much softer than I’ve heard it, but there’s tension in her body. She’s battling her knee-jerk reaction to fight, all for me, and it makes me melt into her a bit more.