Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Grace sank down into the chair in her apartment and knew she wasn’t going to move for a while. She felt out of it, she was so tired. Mentally, she went over her cupboard. She had tea, and wanted tea, but didn’t feel like getting up to get it.
For the past three days, she’d played nursemaid to her niece and nephews. Connie, her sister-in-law, was in Knoxville with her sick parents. Apparently, when everyone had gotten together to celebrate the holiday, someone had brought an unwanted guest. The flu. She thought maybe it had been Finley, bringing it home from college, because she was the first one to go down. Mom was okay, but dad was sick, as well as Finley and JT, her brother that still lived at home. Mom had her hands full, too.
So, when Beck had called for help with the kids after Connie had left for Knoxville, she hadn’t even hesitated. They were on the mend now, but she was exhausted. She’d gotten little to no sleep watching over them. Even when Beck was home at night and supposed to be covering, they asked for her, so of course she got up with them.
Her phone chimed with a message, but she didn’t even move her head. She’d taken the time to put a sign on the door that she was out with sick family, and she’d texted her shop girl not to come in. There was a delivery in a couple of days, and she planned to sleep most of that time.
Maybe.
Grace blinked up at the ceiling, wondering if she had the energy to even make it into her bedroom. This chair was very comfortable right now. Her eyes blinked closed.
She roused when her phone chimed again, and she knew she had to move. There was a crick in her neck and she really wanted to lay down.
Rolling her head, she reached for her phone in her pocket. Beck let her know he got more Pedialyte for the kids, and a line of hearts thanking her. She sent him a heart, then scanned back to the other message.
Angela had texted her.
Hey, girl, I know you got a bomb dropped on you and I understand your hesitation. If you need someone to talk to, I’ve been in your shoes.
Grace pushed up from the chair and headed to her bedroom. She didn’t respond to Angela until she was in bed under her covers. She didn’t want her to think that she wasn’t responding because she wasn’t coming back.
Not avoiding, just dealing with sickness. wil tex latr…
Then she crashed.
It felt like she slept forever, but it was only a few hours before she woke up again, having to pee. Then she went back to bed, barely able to cover her shoulders before sleep took her.
When next she woke, she felt marginally better because her head was more clear. Heading into the kitchen, she ate a banana that wasn’t too far gone, pitched the rest of the bunch and drank a big glass of water. Then she used the bathroom and headed back to bed.
Night had fallen when she opened her eyes again, and she felt so much better than she had that morning. Something niggled at her senses, and she rolled her head.
Owen stood at the foot of her bed, hat in his hand. “Don’t freak out. Angela told me you were sick, and I needed to come check on you.”
Grace blinked in the dim light, not even surprised he was there. Had she been hoping he would come check on her when she’d mentioned the sickness to Angela? Maybe it had been a tiny glimmer in her mind.
“I’m not sick. Just exhausted. My niece and nephews had whatever Andy had earlier this week, and I’ve been taking care of them. I haven’t showered yet, though, so you may not want to be here. It’s really contagious, whatever it is.”
“I don’t get sick,” Owen said, moving to sit on the side of her bed. He reached for her forehead, but she drew back.
“I’m fine, I promise. Mom and I have both managed to avoid it. Seems like everyone else that was at Christmas, though, got sick.”
“I don’t get sick, Grace. Not since Spartan.”
Oh, yeah. That. She let him rest a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes at his touch. He was very gentle, his fingers cool.
“No fever,” he murmured, his voice so deep and raspy. It seemed worse since they’d talked on Christmas night.
“You sound bad,” she whispered. “Are you sick?”
“I’ve been yelling a lot.”
That made her smile slightly. Had she ever seen Owen even raise his voice? Definitely not. He was so steady, and his guys leaned in to listen to him. “Right,” she said, her eyes falling closed. His scent wrapped around her, and in the back of her mind she knew she should probably be upset that he had broken into her house, but she couldn’t find it in her. Quite the opposite, actually.
“Why have you been yelling?” she asked, resting her head back on the pillow.
Owen huffed out a sigh. “I’ve been a bit of a bear waiting for a text message or a call.”
“I’m sorry, Owen,” Grace said, wincing. “My sister-in-law’s parents went down Christmas night, and her daughter got sick the next night, and then her sons. Beck is useless when it comes to sickness, so I volunteered to go over. I’ve been there three nights taking care of them, and I was exhausted. I came home and crashed.”
Owen nodded, clasping his hands in front of himself. “That’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“But I do,” she said, sitting up to face him. “I wasn’t intentionally putting you off. I just haven’t had time to call. But I have been thinking about what you told me, and I have some questions.”
Owen’s gaze flicked down her chest, and Grace realized she wasn’t wearing much. Just a threadbare tee and no bra. She straightened her back a little, giving the girls a little better look. “Maybe I can shower real quick and we’ll talk. If you’re not in a hurry.”
Owen looked away, nodding. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
Grace sped through her shower, washing away all the funk and ickiness. She needed to change her sheets, too, make sure the sickness hadn’t followed her home. When she walked out into the kitchen, feeling more normal than she had in days, she felt more ready to talk to him.
Owen sat at the tiny kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. His hat rested on the end of the table. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Two a.m. Maybe not the best time for coffee. She reached for a tea canister and ran a mug of hot water from the Keurig. She added a splash of cream and settled to the opposite side of the table from him.
Man, he looked good. His dark hair was crimped from the hat, of course, but the curls looked springy. His hard eyes were a little softer as they looked at her, but definitely guarded. Actually, she realized he looked tired. Like he hadn’t been sleeping.
Grace had had a long time to think about what he’d told her about the men on the mountain, and overall, she was just mad. Mad at her own government for sanctioning the testing, mad at the people with money, mad that they had to hide out just to be safe.
She’d seen the way the men up there reacted to her, and reacted to Owen. They just wanted a home like everyone else. And they deserved that.
“First and foremost, you have my word that I won’t tell anyone about your men, or what happened to you. It’s nobody’s business but your own.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I would certainly never risk Fallon’s safety.”
He gave a tight nod.
She took a sip of her tea. “I guess I’m a little unsure what exactly you want to hear? I definitely want to continue to see you, if you don’t mind coming down the mountain, occasionally,” she teased. “Or maybe you’ll finally let me drive up the mountain.”
Owen took a breath, and it seemed a little quivery to her, like a heavy tension had eased away.
“Okay,” he said, voice flat. “I would be happy to come down the mountain.”
Grace chuckled and felt a thrill run through her, despite his deadpan delivery. “You’re very hard to read sometimes.”
He shifted in the chair and looked at her. “I’m sorry for that. I don’t mean to be. We’ve just learned to keep as much as we could inside, and not let anyone see what they were doing affected us.”
That explained a lot.
“Well, I won’t turn on you. Even if we don’t work out, I’m not the type of person to grind your nose into the dirt or air dirty laundry.”
He stared at her for a long moment, before giving her a curt nod, some kind of tension easing in his shoulders. It was obvious to her that he’d really been worried about her response. She dared to reach across the table, to run her fingers down his knuckles. They weren’t beat up anymore, but he drew back like it hurt.
Grace straightened. “Sorry,” she said, focusing on her mug. Why had he reacted that way to such a simple touch?
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, opening his hands from the cup and reaching toward her. “Over the past few days, when I didn’t hear from you, I started to prepare myself for a negative response, and it’s taking my mind a minute to catch up.”
Grace accepted his touch, and she found herself leaning forward to clasp both of his hands in her own. “Well, catch up to this. The fact that you came down here at two in the morning to check on me? Makes me hope that you like me at least as much as I like you.”
“More,” he said immediately, his voice so deep it send a shiver down her spine.
Grace’s heart thudded as Owen’s single word— more —hung in the air between them, rough and unguarded, like he’d ripped it straight from his chest. His hand tightened around hers, the callouses scraping her skin in a way that felt grounding, real. She searched his eyes, those deep, storm dark irises that had always held so much back, and saw something new flickering there—something raw and unguarded that made her breath catch.
“More?” she echoed, her voice soft but teasing, trying to lighten the weight of the moment even as her pulse raced. “That’s a very ambiguous word for a man who loves details like you do.”
Owen’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile breaking through his exhaustion. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think while I was tearing myself up over you not calling.” He paused, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. “And I realized something.”
Grace tilted her head, her teasing fading as she felt the shift in him. “What’s that?”
He took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to their joined hands like he needed a moment to gather himself. When he looked up again, his eyes were steady, piercing, and her stomach flipped. “I realized I’ve been running from this—from you—for too damn long. Not because I don’t want it, but because I’m scared shitless of what it means. Of what I could lose if it goes wrong.”
Her chest tightened, and she squeezed his hands. “Owen…”
“No, let me say it,” he rasped, his voice rougher than ever, like every word was a battle. “You see me—the real me. You’ve seen some of the mess I am. I’ve been through a lot of shit with the Dogs, and I’ve got no business dragging someone beautiful and colorful like you into my fucked-up world. But you’re here. And you’re still looking at me like I’m worth something. I—” He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “I don’t think I can let you go, Grace. I don’t know when it happened, or how the hell I let it, but I think I’m in love with you.”
The words hit her like a wave, stealing her breath and flooding her with warmth all at once. She blinked, her eyes stinging, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Owen,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She slid her hands free and reached up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You think you’re the only one who’s scared? I’ve been terrified for months that you would pull away and disappear up on your mountain, never to be seen again. And since Christmas night I’ve been terrified I’d lose you if I couldn’t handle everything you told me. But I’ve been thinking about you nonstop, even through the screaming, sick kids and the chaos. You’re in my head, in my heart, and I can’t shake you.”
He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment like he was savoring it, and when they opened again, they were softer, unguarded in a way she’d never seen. “So what’re you saying?”
“I’m saying I love you too, you stubborn, quiet, ridiculous man,” she said, her voice breaking into a laugh. “I love how steady you are, how you care about those guys up there like they’re your family. I have no doubt that you would have walked away if it meant keeping them safe, and that shows a selflessness that is so rare. I love that you came down here at two a.m. just to make sure I was okay, even after I left you hanging. I love you , Owen Black—all of you, the mess and the history and everything else. And I’m not going anywhere.”
For a heartbeat, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he surged forward, closing the small distance between them, and kissed her—hard and fierce, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. His hands slid into her damp hair, tugging her closer, and she melted against him, her fingers curling into his shirt as she kissed him back.
When they finally broke apart, panting, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her lips. “You mean that?” he murmured, his voice so low it vibrated through her. “You’re really in this? It could be dangerous. I’m serious, Grace. Armed men could show up tomorrow and try to take us away. Or try to destroy us.”
“Then you’d better teach me how to shoot a gun, or whatever,” she said, brushing her nose against his, “because nothing is coming between us. You’re worth everything, Owen. I don’t care how complicated it gets, or what’s waiting up that mountain. I want you. I want us. And I’ll fight for it if I have to.”
Owen let out a shaky laugh, the sound rough but lighter than she’d ever heard it. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Grace. But I’d take that fight any day if it’s with you.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands framing her face, and the love in his eyes was so clear it made her heart ache. “I’ve never had someone like you in my corner. Never thought I could. But I’m not letting you go. You’d better be sure about this.”
“I am,” she said, grinning through the tears clinging to her lashes. “Because I’m pretty stubborn myself. You’re stuck with me, Cap’n.”
He smiled then—a real, full smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look younger, freer than she’d ever seen him. “Best damn thing I’ve ever been stuck with,” he said, and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest like he’d never let go.
Grace buried her face in his neck, breathing him in—pine and coffee and that faint hint of motor oil that was so uniquely him—and felt the last of her doubts melt away.
Standing, she tugged him up by the hand. “I think we both need some cuddling. Maybe you should take my temperature again. Apparently, it raises when I’m around you.”
Owen tipped back his head and laughed. And it was the most beautiful thing Grace had heard and seen in a very long time.