Page 97 of Home Grown Talent

“Well, I am,” he replied irritably.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not. Did something happen with Mason?”

Owen sighed, a huff of air that was part impatience, part surrender. “We broke up.”

“Damn. Why?”

Owen lifted his hands and scrubbed them over his face. When he dropped them, he said wearily, “Because I’m a fucking moron. I thought he liked me.”

Mac’s face fell. “Did he dump you?”

Could you even be dumped when the person you thought was your boyfriend had just been using you for likes and follows?

Owen shook his head. “I can’t talk about this right now, Mac. You know how I am. I just… I need to get out of my head.” And spending the morning breaking up a concrete drive with Kyle and Dave sounded like the perfect task for that: tough, distracting and physically exhausting.

Mac’s worried expression didn’t shift, but she nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m here if and when you change your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” He tried to smile, but could tell from Mac’s face that it was a poor effort.

“Right then,” she said briskly. “How about a cuppa?”

“Is the sky blue?” he said, forcing something like jollity into his voice.

Neither of them was convinced by the performance, but Mac gave a nod and went to fill the kettle.

Owen headed into the main part of the unit to check out the van Kyle and Dave had used the day before. He’d need to load up some extra tools since he’d be joining them. Tommy could do maintenance today instead and take Naaz with him.

His phone rang, buzzing against his thigh, and Owen’s heart missed a beat.

Mason?

He scrambled the phone out of his pocket, even though he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—answer it. But when he looked at the screen, it wasn’t Mason; it was Aaron.

Shit.

He’d avoided a number of calls from Lewis over the weekend, unable to face talking about what had happened on Weekend Wellness. A wave of guilt washed over him, and he forced himself to answer the call, even as his heart still pounded against his ribs. Trying to sound normal, he opened with, “Hey, Aaron. Everything okay?”

Aaron said, “We’re fine. I was phoning to see how you’re holding up. Lewis was worried about you after—” He broke off, then sighed and added, “Well, after we saw the show on Saturday.”

Owen swallowed painfully. “Yeah, it was pretty much a car crash. At least, that’s how I remember it. I’ve not been able to watch it back.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Aaron said, though Owen intuited from his evasive tone that it had been that bad. “But Lewis could tell you were freaking out and—”

Owen gave a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I suspect that was obvious.”

Aaron was quiet for a moment. Then he said in a rush, “He feels absolutely terrible, Owen. When you called and told him you couldn’t do it, he just brushed you off, and then when he saw you on TV, there was nothing he could do to help. He’s been beside himself all weekend, and—”

“Lewis doesn’t need to feel bad,” Owen interrupted wearily. “There was nothing he could have done. I don’t even know why I called him.”

When Aaron fell silent, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the roller door to the unit, watching it rattle up. Sunlight flooded into the space, and he squinted against it, rubbing at his eyes. He’d not really slept the last couple of nights, and it was starting to catch up with him.

“What’s that noise?” Aaron asked.

“I’m at the unit, getting ready to go out on a job,” Owen said. “Look, why don’t you tell Lewis I’ll call him tonight?”

“Yeah, okay,” Aaron said. “Just make sure you do.”

“I will,” Owen said. “Right, I’d better—”