Chapter 6
Luke
I think I broke Annie.
She has not said a word to me since we walked out of her apartment, and her not talking to me is scarier than her telling me to fuck off.
Annie is no stranger to my apartment—the apartment that I was going to ask her to move into with me, before she completely disappeared from my life—but she’s never stayed the night, let alone a month.
I have two bedrooms—mine, and a guest room for when any of my friends or my brothers stay over, and it’ll be Annie’s for the foreseeable future.
With only a wall separating the two of us.
I have her tote bag over my shoulder, the hard-on I've had since I found her little blue vibrator in her underwear drawer when I was packing her stuff finally subsiding.
She follows behind me, still refusing to say a word as we get to the door to my apartment.
When I unlock the door to my place, I hear the familiar nails clicking the hardwood floor as I swing the door open. Rosie, my golden retriever I rescued from the shelter Annie works at, welcomes us home, her tail wagging.
“Hi, Ro-Ro,” I say, petting her head as I walk into the kitchen, setting Annie’s bag down on the counter and flipping on one of the kitchen lights. “Look who’s here—your mama!”
Annie lets out an exhale as she walks into my place, shutting the door behind her. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not her mom,” she says through her teeth, bending down to pet Rosie, but at least she’s talking to me now.
I bend down with Annie, letting Rosie play the perfect buffer for us. I won’t be able to get Annie to talk about the break-in or the details of her staying here, but she’ll talk about Ro.
“Of course you are.” I lean in letting Rosie lick my cheek, not caring if I sound like a complete freak with my puppy voice. “Ro-Ro deserves a strong female role model in her life, don’t you, sweetie pie?”
Annie rolls her eyes. “So you kidnapped me to be a dog mom? That’s weird even for you, bartender,” she deadpans, but I know Rosie is her soft spot.
For as much as Annie hates me, she loves Rosie, and is always making sure I’m taking her to the vet, getting her groomed, and that she is up-to-date on her shots. She refuses to accept the role as her mom even though Annie was there when I adopted Rosie.
I got Rosie from a fundraiser at the animal shelter Annie works at—she was just a volunteer there at the time—and Eddie and I went to support her and the cause. We ended up both leaving with a pup, me with Rosie, and Eddie with Rosie’s sister, Daisy.
Rosie is one of the only things Annie and I can talk about without her ignoring me or telling me to stop talking to her.
“Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way,” Annie adds in a whisper, and I have to will my facial expression not to change, or she’ll take it back and get mad at me for bringing up how she’s being nice to me.
We keep petting Rosie for a few moments in silence, and it registers for me that this is the first time we’ve been completely alone together in I don’t know how long—years, maybe—but it would be a death wish for me to bring that up right now, especially after I just got a moment of softness from her.
Rosie, realizing she is tired of sitting, reels me from my own mind. She licks Annie’s cheek before flopping down on the floor and rolling her on her back.
Annie lets out a little laugh, and my eyes follow the noise, finding her smiling as she scratches Rosie’s belly.
It’s small but still so blinding.
“She’s happy to see you,” I say to Annie, not being able to look away from her.
It wasn’t even a question that Annie would be staying with me.
The second the cop said that she would need a place to stay, I was already planning on bringing her here. My one and only priority was making sure she was safe.
And it took a lot less convincing than I thought it would, but I don’t want to think too much about it.
As we sit here with Rosie, in this comfortable silence, a smile on Annie’s face, I can’t help but think that this month we have together may be my chance to finally figure out what the hell went wrong between us.
It might be my only chance to get her back.
“Of course she’s happy to see me,” Annie replies, “she likes me more than you.”
I let out a laugh because I can’t even deny it, but I watch as Annie’s lips lose their shape, and I wish I could think of something to say that would bring her smile back. The weight of tonight is no doubt heavy on her shoulders, on top of everything else she is constantly dealing with.
Annie is so tough and doesn’t let a lot get to her these days, and while I know the burglary probably freaked her out, she’s going to be more angry than anything else. Having to deal with the aftermath is just one more stressor for her, and she is already preparing for such an important year for vet school with her rotations.
I knew taking the stress of finding a place to stay that wouldn’t make her feel guilty or like she’s a burden was one thing I could do to help her, even if she thinks spending more time with me than she has to is the equivalent to eating glass.
The things I would do to show her that she doesn’t have to deal with everything alone are unmatched. I just wish she could see it.
“I know you’re going to be mad at me for asking,” I start, the both of us still knelt beside a very content Rosie, “but are you okay?”
Annie thinks about her answer for a moment, and I use this time to study her. I watch as her shoulders slump and her eyes briefly shut. She takes a deep inhale before letting it out, and this feels like one of those rare occurrences when Annie lets me see the part of her that she tries to hide.
The part of her she shields.
The part that is tired of shouldering every single shitty thing that has come her way.
The part that refuses to ask for or even accept help.
Her eyes open, but she doesn’t look at me. “I’m fine,” she finally says, giving Rosie a final pat before standing up.
I didn’t have a chance to turn all my lights on in the apartment, so Annie’s face is only slightly illuminated as she stands above me. I’m on my knees in front of her, still bent down from petting Rosie, and when she looks down at me, time stands still.
Her brown eyes are locked with mine, loaded silence stretching between us. Her arms are at her sides, but I can see her fists slightly clenched.
I don’t say anything, just keep my eyes on her. I don’t want to scare away this moment. We’re still in our clothes from the courthouse wedding, the straps of her red jumpsuit falling over her shoulders contrasting with the long brown waves around her face and down her back.
She tucks some hair behind her ear. “You look good on your knees for me, bartender.” Her lips are in a pout as she bends down, bringing her face closer to mine. I’m a good foot taller than her, being just above six feet tall, so there isn’t too much distance between me on my knees and her standing, but I watch her intently, waiting to see what she’s about to do.
I ball my fists, resisting the urge to touch her. It would take the slightest movement from either of us to close the space between her lips and mine. Her jasmine and rose scent makes me dizzy, and I wonder if her lips still taste like cherries.
Her eyes flick down to my mouth, and I don’t know if my dreams are coming true or if she finally killed me and this is my heaven. Her eyes find mine again as she says, “If you ever pull the shit you did tonight again,” that familiar edge back in her voice, “I’ll bury you in your own backyard.”
She straightens back up to her full height, stepping around me and grabbing her bag off the counter.
I’m still on my knees, my eyes glued to where she was standing just a second ago, as she walks straight into the guest bedroom and slams the door behind her.
***
Annie was gone when I woke up this morning, which wasn’t a surprise. I actually would have been more surprised if she was here.
The key I left for her on the kitchen counter is gone, and I’m sure she had Mia or Drew pick her up to get her other stuff and her car from her apartment.
She’ll spend the majority of the day finding other things to do, so she doesn’t have to be here.
This is what I get for the shit I pulled last night.
Not only was I the one to tell our friends about the break-in at her apartment, but I didn’t give her a choice on whether or not she was staying with me—not to mention my choice in her overnight essentials.
I completely deserved going to bed with nothing but the memory of how it felt to be on my knees for Annie Mitchell while she was fast asleep a room away from me.
Today is Saturday, and I have the closing shift at the bar, so my morning and afternoon were spent making myself busy around my apartment and mentally kicking myself in the balls every time I glanced at the door hoping Annie was back or checked my phone thinking she’d text me.
It took almost a whole year when I first started working at Lenny’s to get her to unblock my number, so it’s a silly thought that she would suddenly be sending me her hourly whereabouts just because she’s staying with me for a month.
The only texts I get from her are in group chats we have with our friends .
I also had to resist the nagging urge to peek into the guest room, especially when Rosie kept scratching at the closed door, further proving Annie’s point that my own dog likes her more than me.
The masochistic side of me always wants to feel close to Annie, even if it’s the literal version of playing with fire knowing that I’ll get burned. I couldn’t stop myself from peeking into the guest room, telling myself it was just to make sure she had everything she needed.
With the temptation subsided, it confirmed for me that Annie may be the love of my life, but she is still the biggest slob who never makes her bed and leaves messes everywhere she goes.
Messes that I would gladly clean for her if it wouldn’t make her threaten to cut off my hands.
There’s no guidebook on how to be roommates with your ex-girlfriend who hates your guts for reasons still unknown to you. The same ex-girlfriend who you have loved from afar for seven years and now will be under the same roof as you.
My feelings for Annie are already mind-fucking enough, and having her close yet so far is going to be my own personal hell.
She starts her last year of vet school in a month, and I’m supposed to be moving back home to fulfill my role as my brother’s replacement with my dad and oldest brother in a few weeks. The position at the law firm has been my end goal ever since my senior year of high school, but I wish I had more time.
I don’t know when—if ever—I’ll get a chance like this again.
I’m about to head over to Lenny’s when my phone rings.
I ignore the embarrassing flip in my stomach when I think for a millisecond that it’s Annie, and I externally groan when I see who’s actually calling.
It takes me a few seconds to decide if I want to deal with him now or later.
If I answer the phone now, it’ll probably ruin the rest of my day.
If I wait to call him back another day, it will probably ruin multiple days.
I decide to go with the former, answering the call before it can go to voicemail.
“What’s up, Dad?” I say into the phone, no longer having that sense of hope that he’s calling to check up on me or ask how I’m doing.
The hope I used to have.
The hope that led me to disappointment every time my father showed me I was nothing more than spare for the son who didn’t meet Daniel Owens’ expectations.
I realized that accepting I was only a subject of my dad’s attention because my brother, Bennett, went against my father’s wishes and dropped out of law school to become a firefighter was easier than trying to convince dear old Dad that being a replacement for Bennett isn’t my only purpose in life.
There’s no hope when I answer his calls. There’s just anger—at him but also myself—that I ever believed he cared about me.
I know he’s only calling because he needs something.
“When are you starting?” my dad barks out.
He’s called me more in these past two months since I graduated law school than he has since my first year. At least when he used to call back then, he would say hello or ask how my classes were going.
Now, there is no trace of that doting, committed father.
It was all an act to begin with anyway.
“Soon,” I answer, not wanting to give him an exact date. “I still have to talk to my boss at the bar.”
I realize that I am lucky to have the means to become a lawyer, both the time and money, and I recognize that having a father with a law firm waiting for me is something I should be grateful for.
But it was never meant for me.
My father never gave me the same attention he gave to Bennett and Caleb because he never saw me as his . And technically, I’m not.
My last name is Owens, and we’re still related, but it’s only because my mother had an affair with Eric Owens, Daniel’s brother.
The secret came out when I was nine, but, at that point, Eric died of a heart attack, and the man who I thought was my father told me and my brothers the truth: how he and my mom agreed to never tell Eric the truth about me.
Looking back, it makes sense why my mom took Eric’s death so hard, but she couldn’t do much about it after letting Daniel claim me as his own before I was even born. But just like my dad, my mom never treated me the same way as my brothers.
How could she when I was the reminder of what she couldn’t have? A reminder of her mistake or her lost chance or whatever she tells herself so she can sleep at night.
“I need you to start September 1st,” my dad replies, never wanting to hear about how one of his sons is a bartender of all things. In his mind, someone with the Owens last name is too good to work in the service industry, let alone know someone who does.
He wants to say he raised me better than that, but that would be a lie.
He didn’t raise me at all.
My brothers—technically half-brothers, but we’ve never differentiated—were my parental figures. They were the ones who raised me, and they did a much better job than the man who claimed me as his just to avoid having to admit to anyone his wife slept with his brother.
Along with Annie, my brothers were the ones who were there for me.
They were my family.
The ones who drove me to hockey practice and cheered me on at my games. The ones who always reminded me that I was so much more than my dad’s bastard son.
And it all paid off. I landed a full ride on a hockey scholarship all on my own. There was a real possibility I could play as a career one day. I never thought I’d become a big shot in the NHL, but it was at least a possibility , no matter how small.
But then Bennett told my dad he was dropping out of law school, and my dad was forced to look at me for the first time. Even if it was because the son he had grand plans for was letting him down, it felt like the man I saw as my father finally saw me .
I know now that he just saw me as an opportunity to still get what he wanted.
Caleb, the oldest out of the three of us, has always been fine, even happy, with following my dad’s footsteps, but Bennett wasn’t. And now that he was off doing what he wanted, it left me to fill in the gaps.
And I did it .
I turned down my scholarship, said goodbye to my dreams of playing hockey in college, and prepared for the path of becoming a partner at Owens & Son’s Law Firm because it was what Daniel wanted for Bennett but would tolerate for me.
I have filled the shoes Bennett left behind for years because the feeling of my dad’s approval grew addicting in a way that I didn’t even realize it was happening. Not until I walked across that stage in May and was handed a diploma I never wanted in the first place.
“I’ll let my boss know,” I answer, not having the energy to argue that a month and a half isn’t enough time to prepare myself for a life of hating my job.
“Okay,” is all he says before I hear the beep of the call ending, and I want to throw my phone across the room.
He’s calling to know when he can finally make use of all the money and time he threw at me, rather than the love and affection I would have given it all up for, and I knew that answering the call.
I knew I would feel like this after talking to him.
But I always do this to myself.