Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MAYA
By the time Owen picks me up from the bakery, the scent of croissants and burnt sugar is clinging to my clothes, and my whole body hums with exhaustion. He doesn’t say anything at first when I climb into the truck, just gives me a once-over like he’s checking for cracks.
“Hi,” I murmur, pulling my seatbelt on.
“Hi,” he echoes, soft and warm. Then, “You look tired.”
“I am. But I’m fine.”
He starts the engine, then pauses before pulling away from the curb. “You sure?”
I nod, though the truth is I’m not. I haven’t been since the alarm went off last week, never mind last night’s episode.
Sleep has been patchy at best, and every creak in the floorboards sends my heart racing.
Still, when Owen reaches across the console and threads his fingers through mine, some of the static in my chest fades.
He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other cradling mine, like he needs the contact as much as I do.
The truck is warm and quiet, just the low hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal click.
We’re pull up outside my block of flats and Owen throws the truck into park before he leans over the centre console.
“What are you doing?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Just taking a second.” He turns to face me fully, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.”
My heart skips. “Is that so?”
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. I don’t.
Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s soft at first, tentative, testing.
Then my fingers find the collar of his jacket and tug him closer, and he deepens it with a low, breathy sound that sends heat spiralling through me.
His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he’s memorising it.
When we finally part, he’s smiling, eyes still closed. “Been wanting to do that properly.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
A knock at the window startles us both. Owen jerks back, and I twist around to see Ollie standing there with an infuriating smirk.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything life-changing,” he says as we scramble to compose ourselves.
“Brilliant timing, mate,” Owen mutters.
Daz, Ollie’s cousin, is already leaning on the door leading into my flat. Daz is thick-necked and broad, shaved head and faded tattoos curling out from under the sleeves of his hoodie. But when he smiles, it’s soft. Genuine.
“Afternoon, love,” he says. “I hear you’ve got a grumpy alarm.”
“Something like that,” I say, stepping back to let them in. “Come through.”
I gesture toward the keypad by the door, and Daz pulls a toolkit from his backpack like a magician about to do a trick.
Ollie drops onto the arm of the sofa like he owns the place, while Daz begins prowling the perimeter like a sniffer dog, eyes on the walls, the sensors, the doorframe. I hover near the kitchen, arms wrapped around myself.
“Owen said you’d take a look,” I say to Ollie, keeping my voice even.
He nods. “Daz is solid. Works private security gigs. Does installs for clubs, high-end flats, even a few ex-footies. We figured better safe than sorry.”
I manage a nod, even though my stomach is twisting itself in knots. It doesn’t matter how many times someone tells you you’re safe. If your body doesn’t believe it, none of it sticks.
Daz opens the fuse cupboard and clicks his tongue. “Old system. Not terrible. But cheap. You get this installed or was it here when you moved in?”
“It came with the flat,” I say. “We didn’t have many options when we left.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. Not pitying, but sharp. Knowing.
“Right,” he mutters, returning to the panel. “Well, let me poke around and run a quick diagnostics test. Won’t take long.”
Ollie rises and comes to stand beside me with Owen, they’re both unusually quiet. I watch Daz plug something into the control panel, the little screen flashing lines of code I don’t understand. He pulls out a small notepad and jots something down.
“Any tea on?” Ollie asks, breaking the silence.
“I made a pot,” I say. “In the kitchen.”
He grins. “Perfect.”
I busy myself pouring cups, hands finally steadying when I hear Daz hum under his breath.
“Alright,” he says after a beat. “So, there’s good news and weird news.”
My spine locks.
“Go on,” Ollie says, stepping back into the room.
Daz wipes his hands on his jeans. “The good news is there’s nothing damaged. Wiring is intact. No sign of forced entry or external tampering from the obvious points.”
I exhale.
“The weird news,” he continues, “is that the alarm didn’t trip from any of the usual sensors. It activated from a secondary trigger, one that doesn’t usually go off unless someone physically messes with the inside panel. But there’s no sign of that either.”
“So, what does that mean?” I ask.
He shrugs one thick shoulder. “Could be a glitch. These systems are old. They short if the wiring shifts or the power supply drops. You said it’s gone off twice?”
“Yeah. Once last week. Then again last night.”
Daz nods slowly. “I’ll replace the panel, rewire the hub, add a few discreet window sensors. Should stop any false triggers. Could just be age and bad luck.”
He turns to Owen. “I can start now if you’re alright with it.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Please. Do whatever you need.”
He nods, already reaching into his duffel for tools.
Ollie slips me a look. “Good,” he says. there’s no teasing in his tone. Just warmth. Steadying. He heads straight to me, hands brushing my arms. “You alright?”
I nod, but I can’t quite speak.
Owen sees it. He pulls me into him and I let my forehead rest against his chest, for a second. Just long enough to feel like I’m not doing this alone.
Ollie clears his throat loudly. “Gross. You’re gonna make me cry.”
I huff a laugh and pull back while Owen slips his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.
Daz works efficiently, and by the time we have to leave to collect Lila, he’s already replaced the panel and installed a new sensor above the back window.
“This should catch anything dodgy,” he says. “And if the old one goes off again, this will back it up. Dual triggers.”
He hands me a new code sheet. I blink at it.
“You can change the passcode to something else later. Just don’t forget to give it to the big lad here.” He nods toward Owen.
I smile faintly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Ollie, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
As he leaves, he brushes past Owen and says something I don’t catch.
After the door closes, I raise a brow. “What did he say?”
Owen grabs my hands. “Daz is going to be upgrading everything; this was just to make sure you feel safe for now. We can get cameras too. I can stay here at night if that helps.”
I blink at him, heart hammering with anxiety. I have a feeling he’s not telling me the full truth. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I want you both safe. That’s all I care about.”
For the first time in years, I let someone stand between me and the dark. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like weakness. It feels like home.
He brushes a knuckle down my cheek, voice low and steady. “Now, how about we go pick up Lila and go for that pizza I promised you?”
The tension in my chest unwinds another notch. I blink at him, letting the words settle, warm and full of ordinary comfort. Not questions. Not fear. Just pizza. Lila. Him.
I nod, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “You offering to share garlic bread too? Or is that where you draw the line?”
His grin is slow and crooked. “I’d give you the last slice, Dawson. Don’t test me.”
“You must really like me.”
He leans in, lips brushing my temple. “I really do.”
And just like that, the fear doesn’t vanish but it quiets.
We gather our things, lock up behind us, and step into the fading afternoon light. His hand finds mine on the stairwell, rough fingers curling around mine like a promise.
Maybe the world isn’t fixed but for tonight, it feels a little safer.
And a hell of a lot brighter.
By the time we pull up outside the nursery, Lila’s already at the window, face squished against the glass like a cartoon character. She beams when she spots the truck and bolts toward the door, a blur of pink coat and plaits.
“Mummy!” she yells, launching herself into my arms the moment I crouch down to greet her. “You came with Bear!”
Owen grins fondly at the nickname, crouching down beside me. “Hey, Jellybean. Ready for our pizza party?”
Her eyes go wide. “Pizza?! For real?”
“For real,” he says solemnly. “Cheesy, gooey, probably too hot. But we’ll blow on it, yeah?”
Lila wiggles with excitement. “Can we have garlic bread too?”
Owen grins. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Back in the truck, Lila hums to herself in her new car seat Owen bought for her, kicking her legs like she’s already had a triple espresso.
She keeps poking her head between the seats to update us on her “pizza plan,” which so far includes one slice for Mummy, one for Bear, five for her, and maybe a chocolate milk if she eats a vegetable.
Owen meets my eyes across the console and mouths, five? I laugh, and it’s real and light and free. It feels good to laugh. Like I haven’t done it properly in days.
We eat at a little place down the street from the rink, one with sticky red booths and wobbly salt shakers and a waitress who gives Lila extra napkins for her “pizza fingers.” Lila makes a mess and tells Owen a story about a class pet who escaped and bit someone’s shoelace.
Owen listens with the full gravity of a man hearing state secrets.
When the bill comes, he insists on paying, ruffling Lila’s hair and saying, “Can’t break a promise to my favourite girl.”
“You promised pizza,” she says, licking sauce off her thumb. “You didn’t promise pudding.”
Owen leans in close, voice conspiratorial. “Think I can be convinced.”
She gasps like he’s just handed her a treasure map.
Later, back in the truck, she’s asleep before we’re halfway home. Her head slumps to the side, lips slightly parted, one hand still clutching a paper napkin like a trophy.
“She had a good night,” I whisper.
“She deserved it,” Owen whispers back. “And so did you.”