Page 41 of Wish You Were Mine (Kings of Eden Falls #3)

LUCY

I didn’t text Owen over the weekend.

Partly because I was busy. But mostly…because I had no idea what to say to him after the car ride on Friday night where he’d panicked about my age and decided he should just take me home.

All weekend I kept wondering if I’d imagined it all—the looks, the tension, the feeling that maybe he actually liked me.

I mean, it had felt real. The way he’d opened up to me about his family and everything he’d been through had made me think that we were growing closer and that I was at least somewhat special.

But who knows. Maybe it hadn’t actually been that deep. Maybe he was just like that with everyone.

I told myself that I was giving him space.

But the truth?

I was bracing myself for the slow fade.

At my gymnastics meet on Sunday afternoon, I caught myself scanning the crowd, stupidly hoping that I’d see him. That even though he didn’t want to hang out in person, he might still show up to support me—or just to hang out with Theo and pretend he wasn’t watching me.

But when I panned the crowd between each of my routines, I didn’t see him anywhere.

He definitely wasn’t next to Theo and my parents.

But hey, at least I’d nailed my routine. Even stuck the landing on my beam dismount, which had the crowd jumping to their feet, their cheers echoing in my ears.

And while I didn’t spot the one person I’d been hoping to see in the stands…I did catch Brody, on his feet and grinning, clapping like I’d just won Olympic gold.

That night, as I lay in bed mentally preparing for the week ahead, I convinced myself that whatever Owen and I had shared—whatever attraction or connection had lingered between us since the first time we met—was over.

It was pointless to keep hoping for something that clearly wasn’t going to work. Not when he thought I was too young for him.

Because even if we could somehow get around the other hurdles—the fact that he was my chemistry professor and my dad was the president of the university—there was no getting around the age gap.

I couldn’t magically age several years overnight just to reach whatever number Owen had decided made me acceptable to pursue.

As I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the heater kick on in my dorm room, I made a decision. I’d try to go back to the way things were a few weeks ago. Before the late-night texts. Before I panicked and showed up at his door. Before the dinner where he told me about his mom.

I was just his student now. A girl he’d see in his lecture hall and lab for five hours a week. Nothing more.

So when it came time for my chemistry class on Monday afternoon, instead of arriving early and trying to catch his eye like I’d done the class sessions before, I slipped into the back row just before his lecture began, took careful notes, avoided all eye contact and then slipped out as soon as class was over.

And even though we’d agreed he’d walk me home after my study group, I didn’t text to remind him. I figured that door had quietly closed.

When the study session wrapped up at six thirty that night, I grabbed dinner from the dining hall, then zipped up my coat and braced myself for the chilly walk alone back to my dorm.

But when I stepped back into the hall that led to the glass doors, I saw Owen sitting in one of the chairs just outside the student lounge.

Like he’d been waiting for me.

The second our eyes met, he stood up.

And my heart instantly ached at the sight of him. Because even though I was doing my best to avoid him—to not want him—apparently, three days of separation wasn’t enough to get over my craving for him.

“Hi,” I said, trying to play it cool as he approached.

“Hi,” he replied, his eyes cautious as he stepped closer.

We stepped outside together and walked in silence for a bit, the cool night air filled with the faint scent of pine and woodsmoke. I kept my gaze forward, trying not to let my brain run wild.

Had he changed his mind then? Did he regret how we’d left things Friday night?

Did he wish he hadn’t taken me home after all?

But instead of asking him any of those things, I turned toward him and stupidly asked, “Aren’t you worried about being seen with someone so young?”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I instantly hated how insecure the question sounded .

“I still want to make sure you get home safely.” Owen glanced sideways at me, his jaw ticking slightly.

Okay, so…maybe he didn’t have any actual lingering feelings for me. Maybe this was just him being my self-appointed bodyguard of sorts.

So I just said, “Okay.” And then because I should probably be more grateful that he was going out of his way to still help me, I added, “Thank you. I-I appreciate it.”

We didn’t talk after that. Just kept walking side by side.

A few times, he opened his mouth like he was about to say something…only to shake his head, seemingly changing his mind and stopping himself.

When we reached the spot where we’d crossed the street to get to his car last time, I slowed, wondering if we might stop there so we could talk with more privacy.

But after only a second of hesitation, he kept going.

Past the intersection.

Straight toward my dorm.

So…no talking needed, I guess. We were just silent walking buddies tonight.

When we reached the sidewalk that led up to my building, I slowed to a stop, about to thank him again and head inside.

But before I could do that, Owen reached out and gently took my hand, saying, “Hey.”

My breath caught as he stepped a little closer and guided me off to the side, just behind a tree so we wouldn’t be as visible to anyone going in and out of the dorm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his fingers still wrapped around mine. “For being so confusing with all my mixed signals. For probably hurting you last weekend.”

I looked up at him, and when I met his gaze, the sadness and regret I saw reflected in his brown eyes made my chest ache.

“I didn’t mean to end the night like that,” he continued. “I’d actually planned on hanging out with you. Watching a movie. Just...being with you. I promise I really didn’t plan on getting all weird and freaking out.”

I let the words settle in, warm and painful all at once. But after a second, I tilted my head and asked, “But?” Because there had to be another shoe about to drop, right?

“I don’t know… There probably should be a but.” He exhaled slowly, his eyes meeting mine again, conflicted and raw. “But...I guess I’m still at war with myself. And I don’t really know how to navigate all of this. I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”

My heart clenched, because same .

It was a brand-new world for me, too.

“Well, I appreciate your apology,” I said softly, my gaze dropping to where his thumb was brushing gently over mine.

Why did something so small have to feel so impossibly good? Sparking some hopeful, stupid little flame inside me that I hadn’t quite managed to smother.

“And I also understand where you’re coming from,” I added, the words catching slightly in my throat. “This…is complicated. There’s a lot on the line if anyone found out.”

Having any kind of romantic relationship with me could put his entire career in jeopardy.

And even if we found a way to make it work somehow—if we waited until after I graduated, until we were technically in the clear…

There would still be a stigma.

He’d always be the professor who fell for his student.

We could never tell the story of how we met.

Not without it sounding…tainted.

Not without people wondering how he’d navigated teaching someone he was attracted to—if it had ever crossed a line. If it might ever happen again.

We stood there for a moment, the quiet stretching between us like a fragile thread.

Like neither of us knew what to say next.

Or maybe we were both just too afraid to say the wrong thing.

A gust of wind came tearing down the sidewalk, slicing through my coat and making me shiver.

“I should let you go,” I said, gently pulling my hand back. “It’s freezing, and you still have to walk home.”

He nodded, but he didn’t move. He just lingered, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave either.

Then, after a quick glance around—to make sure no one was watching—his arms slid around me, warm and protective, and he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

And for a second, the world stilled and I forgot how to breathe.

My chest ached with a deep, hollow longing. Because I wanted this. This little moment right here. I wanted this kind of tenderness, of mutual understanding. This something that felt so right, even if it was completely out of reach.

His clean scent wrapped around me like a memory I didn’t want to let go of. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel it. If only for a moment.

But just as quickly as he’d pulled me close, he eased back. Enough for our eyes to meet. And there was something flickering there—quiet, unreadable, and maybe just a little bit heartbreaking.

“Have a good night, Lucy,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges.

I couldn’t answer at first. My throat was too tight to speak. But eventually, I blinked and managed to say, “Goodnight, Owen.”

He turned and walked away then, his footsteps fading into the quiet.

I stood there for a moment, my heart thudding in my chest, then slowly turned toward the dorm entrance.

Before I slipped inside, I glanced back one last time.

And there he was—standing at the edge of the property line, watching. Making sure I got in okay.

I lifted my hand to wave.

He waved back.

And all I could think as I stepped inside was, so much for getting over Owen Park.

Because I was pretty sure I’d just fallen even harder tonight.