Page 20 of Owen (Blue Team #1)

“Yep. And she thought she could talk me out of re-enlisting. I was an aviation mechanic. A skill I could’ve used in the civilian marketplace and made more money.

Which brings us to Naomi’s second issue.

She liked expensive things and didn’t care we couldn’t afford them. That’s what credit cards were for. ”

“Credit cards?”

Oh, boy, this Naomi woman. Didn’t sound like she was smart.

“Credit cards maxed out with no care about the interest rates or how long it was going to take to pay off. If she had five dollars she thought she should be able to spend ten. Hair, nails, clothes, shoes, purses. You name it, she wanted it and I was the asshole for not being able to provide them for her.”

None of that sounded good. She sounded like a gold-digging bitch but it wasn’t my place to say.

“I’m sorry she made you feel that way.”

“She wasn’t wrong, I couldn’t afford to buy her half of what she wanted.”

“So that makes you an asshole?” I asked incredulously.

“I married her, so yeah.”

That made no sense.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, she came from money. I should’ve known she’d never be happy with what I could give her. There’re certain things a woman like that expects and I was stupid for thinking she would lower her expectations and be happy with a middle-class life when she was used to more.”

Unease washed over me. It seeped into my pores and made my skin crawl. Did he think of me that way? Like I was one of those women who expected things .

For months he’d taken care of me. Provided everything from food to clothes. I had no money and he’d paid my way.

I was worse than Naomi the gold digger.

I was a leech.

A clinger.

I wasn’t accepting a helping hand, I was mooching.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and blinked back the tears. “I am so sorry, Owen.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“No…” My voice cracked and I clamped my mouth shut .

“No, what?”

I owed it to Owen to explain. To tell him I knew I was a clinger, a mooch, a leech, but I hadn’t meant to be.

I had but I hadn’t. I’d known I was wrong from the beginning.

I knew I was using him as a reprieve from my life but I wasn’t using him in the sense that I was doing it in malice. But using was using and I’d done it.

I was so much worse than Naomi.

Worse than the women who latched onto my uncle for his money uncaring he was using them for their bodies, knowing they’d be cast aside when he grew bored with them.

I was even worse than my mother who was in love with one man but married another because she was told that was the way it was going to be.

And the Pollaski name and protection meant more to her than my uncle had.

Perhaps I was being too hard on my mother.

After all, she hadn’t had much of a choice; once you were in bed with a Pollaski, you were owed by family.

And being as my father had been the king he was entitled to claim his queen.

Even if she already belonged to another man.

God, life sucked.

My life sucked.

“Natasha?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to end the charade, remind Owen I was Sarah. End the fantasy I’d created.

“For months I’ve lived with you and you’ve paid for everything. I’m a freeloader. I’ve been using you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been using you,” I repeated. “I don’t have a job. I don’t have money. You pay for everything while I sit in your house, eating your food, using your utilities, watching your TV—”

“Stop.”

“No, there’s more. A lot more. I sit around and you work. I do nothing. You pay for— ”

“Babe. Seriously stop. You don’t sit around and do nothing. You cook.”

I cook?

“And you do the laundry,” he continued. “And you clean the house.”

So I was a live-in maid?

“You do any of those things before?”

“Huh?”

“At your dad’s or your uncle’s, did you cook, clean, or do the laundry?”

“Um…”

“Right. You didn’t. You’re not a freeloader, Nat.

I didn’t ask you to clean the house. I didn’t ask you to teach yourself how to cook.

And I certainly didn’t ask you to do laundry.

I’m a grown-ass man and can do all of that myself.

You did it because you are the opposite of a freeloader and wanted to pitch in, so you found ways to do that.

Which are unnecessary but appreciated. As far as everything else, my TV would be there whether you were watching it or not.

The extra utilities I barely feel. The food is moot because you’re the one cooking it so I don’t have to eat out three meals a day so it saves me money in the long run. ”

Unnecessary but appreciated.

That was a nice thing to say. Actually, he thanked me a lot for cooking and doing his laundry. The cleaning he helped with as a matter of fact, Owen was extremely neat. It was me who was messy, so really I was mostly picking up after myself.

“That’s not the point,” I told him.

“Then what is?”

“That you pay for everything. That I live with you for free and you buy everything, down to my shampoo.”

Owen’s eyes got squinty, but not in a ticked-off way, more like he was assessing the situation and coming up with a new plan of attack. Owen was good at that, reading the state of affairs, gauging my mood. Sometimes I thought he could read my mind with the scary accuracy he could figure me out.

“Then when we get home, get a job.”

“What?”

“When we get home get a job,” he repeated.

A job? I’d never had a job, not in the legal sense.

I’d never filled out an application, I didn’t have a resume, and I’d never been to an interview.

I had zero skills outside of being a card sharp.

I knew how to hustle, that was all I was good at.

That and I could set a stupid freaking table, host a party, and of course, I’d been taught the rules of fashion.

What to wear, when. What not to wear. What handbag to pair with what dress.

Keeping up appearances was a high priority for the Pollaskis.

Perhaps I could get a job in a department store.

Right. With no experience, Walmart or Target was more like it.

But now that Owen had mentioned working, I wanted a job. A real one. I wanted to earn a paycheck. I wanted to pay taxes. I wanted to have a schedule and complain about my boss. I wanted that nearly as badly as I wanted to live in my make-believe dreamland with Owen for eternity.

“I’ve never had a real job.”

“I know you haven’t.”

God, what I would have given to know what Owen was thinking.

What was I thinking? No, I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to know anything.

And further, it was one thing to live in La-La-Land and pretend I could be normal, it was certainly another to give it thought.

I wasn’t going to get a job, because I couldn’t.

Zane would get fed up with my uncle's antics soon enough. Owen would never ask me to go back outright, but there was going to come a point where it would be inevitable. I should’ve already done it.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this anymore. You brought me out here to show me the creek. ”

“Don’t.” Owen’s eyes held mine as he delivered his warning.

From top to toe I shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. Owen didn’t miss this, not that he missed much, which was seriously irritating.

“Say. Something,” he ground out.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. Just speak.”

“Remember, Sarah, you don’t speak unless someone asks you a question,” my mother reminded me for the hundredth time. “You’ll sit at your father’s left during dinner. No slouching. Hands in your lap. And smile.”

I nodded and my mother glared at my throat.

“Where are your pearls?” And when I didn’t answer her fast enough she angrily snapped, “Speak.”

Speak.

Just speak.

“I’m not a dog.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tucked my gloved-covered hands under my biceps. “Don’t tell me to speak.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, Owen.”

“Christ,” he bit out and took a step toward me. I jerked back and he rocked to a halt. Eyes narrowed, not in contemplation but in anger. “I would never hurt you.”

“You’re the only one who can hurt me.”

“Nat—”

“I learned a lot growing up with Barny and Wilco. The first lesson was never to let anyone close. Never care. The second lesson was love is the sword you’ll die by.

A weapon to be used against you. I knew it, I saw it, but I didn’t truly know as one can’t until it was too late.

Love is a power exchange. And the person who holds that power can hurt you.

Wilco cannot hurt me. He can kill me, he can sell me, he can torture me, but he cannot hurt me.

The last person who had that power was my father.

When he killed my mother, he destroyed me.

But after that, his power was gone. He took the only person I cared about away from me.

I had nothing left after that so there was nothing else he could do to hurt me.

Lucky for me, he didn’t bother to try. He didn’t like me all that much and did his best to ignore me until he needed me.

And Wilco never had a weapon. He took me in, did his best to make my life hell, but nothing he did hurt because I didn’t care. ”

“I will not hurt you,” he repeated.

Out of everything I told him—including that my father had killed my mother, and without actually saying it I admitted I cared about him, maybe even loved him that was what he chose to home in on. That he wouldn’t hurt me. But he would. It was inevitable.

“You will. But before you do, I’ll hurt myself.”

“What?” Owen misunderstood and stood to his full height, shoulders back, chest out, jaw hard.

Part of me was happy to know he cared. He thought I’d hurt myself and he cared.

Scary, but I liked it.

“This is not my life,” I told him.

“Funny. You’re standing here so I think it is.”

“No, it’s not. My life is not snowy mountains, walks through the forest, beautiful creeks, and cabins.

It’s not chopping firewood. It’s not cooking.

And it’s certainly not going to sleep next to you.

This is my dreamland. A fantasy I’m living.

I know how bad it’s gonna hurt when it's gone but I’m still living it.

I need it, Owen. I need something good and clean and happy because when all of it is gone—when you’re gone—my real life is so dark, so bleak, so grotesque…

now that I know you’re real, that there’s an Owen out there, I need to keep you with me.

I need it. No one will ever know. It will be mine.

And it will hurt so bad when it's gone, but I’m st ill taking this time.

I’m taking everything. I know it’s selfish but I’m still doing it. ”

“That’s not selfish, baby.”

I ignored how soft his voice had gone. I ignored the way he was looking at me. And I absolutely ignored his ‘baby’. There was taking what I could, then there was flat-out stupidity. And allowing his sweet ‘baby’ to penetrate would obliterate me.

“It totally is, Owen. I’m taking more. You’ve given me so much, but I’m greedy and I’m taking everything.

I’ll keep it locked up safe. So deep, Wilco will never find it.

He’ll never be able to use it to hurt me.

But you? You’re the only one who can cause harm.

You’re the only one who can put a stop to my lunacy.

You can take you away from me. And that will hurt.

I know what happened this morning changes nothing between us, but I’m taking that, too.

My first time where sex was a mutual exchange.

Mutual pleasure. The first time I enjoyed being touched and kissed.

I know it meant nothing to you but it means everything to me. It’s mine and I’m not giving it back.”

“ Baby .”

That one word was tortured. It sounded as if it was pulled from the pit of his stomach and for my mental wellbeing I had to ignore what that made me feel.

I had to. I was already drowning. I could barely keep my head above water and if I processed the anger and sadness in his voice I would go under.

When I could take no more I turned to look at the stream.

I concentrated on the frozen bank, the rushing water of Rapid Lightning, and wondered if that was how it got its name.

I was deep into this thought, so deep I didn’t hear the crunching footsteps, so deep I wasn’t pulled from my thoughts until strong arms wrapped around me.

Owen dropped his head and his lips brushed my cold cheek before he whispered words I’d never forget .

“Take what you need, Natasha. Anything you want, baby, it’s yours.”

My eyes drifted closed and I lost sight of the beauty before me. But in the darkness I found light. In the freezing cold, I found warmth. Owen gave it to me. With that one statement, he gave me everything.

And I was going to take it.