Page 191 of In at the Deep End

It sounded as though Matt had left something behind. As though the work was what remained now that everything else was slipping away.

Matt managed a smile. “It was a pleasure.”

Owen opened his mouth, and Matt’s heart gave one stupid, hopeful beat.

For a second there, he thought Owen might cross the space between them to pull him close, kiss him properly, and remind him that whatever had changed over the last two weeks hadn’t erased everything that had come before.

Instead, Owen held out his hand.

Matt stared at it, his throat tightening.

It was such a small gesture. Ridiculous, really. They were friends. They’d worked together all summer. There was nothing strange about shaking hands.

Except that it felt like goodbye.

He put his hand in Owen’s. Warm, firm fingers closed around his, and Matt wanted to hold on.

He forced himself to smile. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

Owen’s gaze held his. “Yeah.”

Just that.

Yeah, as though it were obvious. As though of course they’d carry on exactly where they’d left off when Matt came home.

Matt let go, turning towards the door before Owen could see what the moment had done to him.

He’d said yeah as though nothing had changed. Matt didn’t believe him anymore.

He didn’t know what he was coming home to.

For the first time, he wasn’t even sure there would be anything left between them when he got back.

That night, Matt lay awake long after his parents had gone to bed.

The house was quiet around him, but his mind wouldn’t settle.

He thought about Saturday. Owen’s house would be full. He should have been disappointed about missing the party.

Instead, the thought left him feeling empty.

Weeks before, he’d imagined being there, being part of it. Standing beside Owen while people arrived. Watching him finally open the house he’d spent months making his own. Laughing with him when something inevitably went wrong.

Maybe, when nobody was looking, Owen would touch his back. Maybe they’d share one of those private smiles that had become theirs.

Maybe, at the end of the night, when everyone else had gone, Owen would stare at him and say, “Stay.”

Matt closed his eyes.

That was the problem. He’d imagined too much.

Despite Owen never promising anything, despite him being honest from the beginning, Matt had allowed himself to imagine a future in tiny pieces. Another summer. Another afternoon in the garden. Another film. Another Sunday morning. Nothing enormous or even impossible.

Just… more.

After the island, he’d started to believe the rules had changed without either of them needing to say so.

Perhaps it had been exactly what Owen had always said it was: a wonderful weekend, a shared experience, a beautiful memory.