15. What ifs
WHAT IFS
Dr. Abraham is finishing up the last stitch when there’s a sharp knock at the practice door. “That’ll be Owen. Will you get it, Finley?”
He helps me extricate myself from under a justifiably clingy Annabelle, who moans in protest, the fingers of her good hand gripping tight to my shirt.
Once Casey had deemed me sufficiently calmed down, he guided me back to sit with her, before wishing us all an awkward goodnight.
Annabelle crawled into my lap without hesitation, burying her face against my chest as the doctor worked—at least she’s not so traumatized she doesn’t want to be near me anymore.
I gently peel her hand away, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I’ll be right back, Princess. Uncle Owie is here,” I mutter and head toward the door.
The walk to let him in feels like what I imagine one to the gallows might.
My legs are heavy, a deep pit of dread dragging me down with every step.
I had one job—just one—to keep Annabelle safe while he handled everything he needed to.
Owen was already stressed enough, and look at the damage I caused.
He’ll never trust me again. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to trust myself.
When I unlock the door and pull it open, it’s a woman who steps inside. I’ve only seen her in photos, and reflected back at me in her daughter’s features, but I’d recognize her anywhere.
“Where is she?” Delilah’s voice is frantic, and it lands like a punch to the chest. I put that fear there. It’s me who is responsible for her worry.
“Through there.” I gesture down the hall, not bothering to introduce myself. It hardly matters now. It’s not like I’ll be allowed to stay around Annabelle after this, so Delilah doesn’t need to know my name.
She rushes past me, a shrieked, “Mama!” echoing down the hall.
I turn back toward the door in time to see Owen emerge from his truck.
He crosses the lot with long strides, and I quickly look away, unsure if I’m brave enough to meet his eyes.
Instead of the quick dismissal I’m expecting, he pulls me against his chest, muscles flexing under his wool sweater as he wraps me securely in his arms.
I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug until I’m breaking apart in it.
My body gives way the second my face hits his firm pecs.
Every inch of me shakes, my breath coming out in fast and uneven gasps as my heart slams wildly against my sternum.
Any illusion of composure evaporates as sobs tear through me hard enough that it’s only Owen’s grip keeping me upright.
It takes a while to get my breathing under control, but Owen doesn’t rush me.
He cradles me, one hand smoothing over the baby hairs at my nape in that way he knows instantly calms me.
The gentle humming noise he makes against my temple is more effective than Valium as it reverberates through my body, taking much of my anxiety with it.
I pull away, staring down at my feet. “I’m sorry. You’re wasting time on me, and Annabelle’s hurt. She’s just through there.” I point over my shoulder toward the exam room. I can hear the soft murmur of Delilah’s voice drifting down the hall.
“She’s with her mother,” Owen says simply, running a finger through the tears slipping down my face. “When Delilah’s with her, no one else exists in her world. You could walk in there right now, and she wouldn’t even notice. And you’re her favorite person.”
My shoulders loosen a fraction at the knowledge I’m not keeping him, and I let him pull me back into his chest.
“I’m so…so…sorry,” I repeat into the damp fabric.
I owe him more than this—bigger words. Those five letters are nothing but a band-aid over what I’ve done. Not a good one, either. One of those shitty off-brand ones that loses its stick after five seconds.
And what a fucking metaphor that is for my life. Unable to hold my stick anywhere longer than a brief moment.
That’s really where this all-consuming sadness is coming from.
It’s not just because Annabelle got hurt, though that’s where it started.
I know she’ll be okay. Years from now, she won’t remember this.
She won’t remember me. It’s because, for the first time in forever, I found something I desperately wanted—no, needed—to hold onto.
I found a home. I found… Shit. I was on the precipice of having the one thing I’ve spent my life praying for: belonging.
Once again, I let it crumble to dust.
Owen’s arms tighten around me, and I do my best to memorize the warmth of him. I know when he lets go, it’ll be for the last time. Whatever I manage to absorb now will have to sustain me for God knows how long.
“I stepped away for one minute. I promise. I should have been more careful. I can’t believe I was that stupid. I—”
“Oh, Fin.” Fin. “You gotta breathe.” He loosens his hold just enough to run a hand up and down my spine. “You’re okay. Annabelle’s okay.”
I shake my head. “She’s not. I let her get hurt. I left a knife within reach while she was unsupervised. What if… What if…”
Oh God. What if she'd been more seriously hurt?
My traitorous mind replays the scene in brutal clarity. Her hand clutched to her chest, red blooming beneath her palm. Only this time, when I pull her hand away, her skin is untouched. I look back down, and the blood isn’t from her hand at all. It’s pouring from her chest.
“It could have been so much worse,” I choke on another sob.
“No, no. We’re not playing the what-if game, Finley.
Look at me so I know you’re listening.” When I don’t, his hand comes up, gently guiding my chin until our eyes meet.
“Kids get hurt. Short of wrapping them in bubble wrap and watching them twenty-four-seven, there’s only so much we can do.
This could have happened under anyone’s watch; it doesn’t make you any less capable or trusted because it happened under yours.
“Heck, when she was eight months old, I stepped into another room to take a five-minute call. She was happily watching The Wiggles when I left. When I came back, she had my house key an inch from the outlet. I didn’t even know she could crawl.”
He huffs out a quiet breath. “I beat myself up for weeks over what could’ve happened if I’d been a second too late. But Fin…it didn’t happen.”
I drag my sleeve over my fist, trying to wipe away the flood of tears, but Owen beats me to it. My cheeks heat at the sight of my snot darkening the fabric of his sweater.
“I know you care for her and would do anything to protect her. Look how quickly you got her here. Accidents happen. You didn’t panic—”
“Oh, I can assure you I most definitely did panic,” I cut in.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Okay, fine. But you didn’t let it control you. You got her help quickly. Other than a small scar and hopefully a lesson about sharp objects, there won’t be any lasting damage. I promise.”
I nod, letting his words sink in as he guides me through a few deep breaths, helping my heart rate settle.
He’s right. I know he is. The way he stays with me, grounding me, quiets the self-destructive spiral in my head.
Owen doesn’t say things just to say them.
If Annabelle were truly harmed—if he blamed me at all—he wouldn’t be standing here, taking the time to steady me like this.
It takes a minute, but the tears do eventually stop.
I’d hate to see my reflection right now.
I’m sure my face is swollen and blotchy, an unholy shade of red.
My nose is doing that gross snot-bubble thing with every inhale.
I’m suddenly grateful Owen doesn’t experience attraction the same way I do, because maybe that means he won’t be repulsed by the disaster I currently am either.
A quiet giggle slips out at how ridiculous the thought is.
“You feeling better?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. It sends a shockwave through me. A lightning bolt right down my spine, resulting in a full-body shiver I have no business experiencing right now.
“I think so,” I somehow manage. I don’t think he has any idea how thoroughly that one small gesture short-circuited me.
“She’s asking for you, Finley.” The soft female voice comes from behind us.
Owen turns me in his arms, pulling me back against his chest, his chin settling on my shoulder like it belongs there.
The height difference can’t make it comfortable, but it’s not lost on me that he’s being openly affectionate in front of his sister.
It would have taken very little effort for him to step back.
Now I’ve calmed down a bit and am able to think more clearly, the previous concern that he won’t want me around anymore has passed.
But so has the optimism over where our earlier conversation had been heading.
Maybe this is the reset we needed. A chance to re-evaluate before we crossed a line we couldn’t come back from.
Alter course before one of us—most likely me—gets hurt.
It’s disappointing, but it means there’s still a chance to salvage the friendship that’s grown between us.
I think, at the end of the day, protecting that means more.
Yet, there’s something in the way he squeezes my side and presses a little closer that won’t allow the small thread of hope to break.
“Finley, this is my baby sister, Delilah.” His lips ever so lightly graze my temple, as he adds softly, “Delilah, this is my…Finley.”
My Finley.
She offers me a reserved but warm smile, the earlier panic nowhere to be seen. “It’s nice to finally meet the guy Owen can’t stop talking about,” she chuckles, and an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies launches into flight in my stomach.
I don’t know how I find the ability to respond, but I manage to push out a few stuttered words. “I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.”
She waves it off. “We would’ve been meeting very soon anyway.”
I glance up at Owen as she turns and slips back into the exam room. He mouths, I’ll tell you later, then nudges me gently to follow.
It turns out later is not even a minute, as Annabelle greets me with a wild, excited smile. Her hands, one wrapped in a sparkly purple bandage, clapping in excitement. “Guess what, Finley? Mommy’s moving back home!”
And because I’m the worst human to have ever walked this planet, my stomach drops.
Is there even a place for me in Owen’s life with Delilah back in it?