Chapter 23
OWEN
I am so fucked.
The thought played on repeat as I stared at my ceiling.
Harlow was in my bed.
She was down the hall, in my room, probably passed out by now, given how exhausted she looked tonight.
I threw my arm over my eyes, as if blocking out the darkness would somehow help.
I was wide awake, hyperaware of every creak in the apartment, my ears straining for any sound from down the hall.
The relief of knowing she was here, safe, protected, and not alone in that big house was overwhelming.
I meant what I said. I didn’t give a fuck about space anymore. For weeks, I’d been telling myself that distance was the answer, and if I stayed away from her, these feelings would fade. That the wanting would disappear, become manageable, and eventually disappear entirely.
I was so fucking wrong. It had gotten worse.
Every time I saw her at the rink, my heart did that stupid stuttering thing.
Every time I caught a glimpse of her across campus, I had to physically stop myself from walking toward her.
Every time my phone buzzed, I hoped it was her, and when it wasn’t, the disappointment was almost comical in its intensity.
And now she was here. Sleeping in my bed. Under my roof.
I rolled onto my side, punching the throw pillow into a more comfortable shape. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. My brain was a hamster wheel of Harlow-related thoughts, spinning endlessly through memories, fantasies, and fears.
The way her voice cracked on the phone tonight shattered something inside me.
I’d never driven so fast in my life. Had barely registered the road, the traffic lights, the fact that I was probably breaking about seventeen laws. All I could think about was getting to her. Protecting her. Making sure nothing touched her.
And then I arrived to discover the intruder was a fucking cat.
The laugh that escaped me was quiet, but it broke some of the tension coiling in my chest. A cat. She called me in tears because of a cat. Under any other circumstances, I would never let her live it down.
But the way she slammed into me in that hallway, trembling, crying, clinging to me like I was the only solid thing in her world… that wasn’t funny. That was everything. That was the moment I stopped pretending I had any control over this situation.
I don’t give a fuck about space.
The words came out before I could stop them. Before I could filter them through the part of my brain that was supposed to remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
None of it mattered in that moment.
All that mattered was her.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. She was right down the hall. Maybe fifty feet away. Sleeping in sheets that would smell like me when she woke up.
We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I would have to face the reality of this decision and figure out how to coexist with her in this space without losing my mind.
Because I wanted her.
I wanted to be her person.
The realization should have terrified me. It did terrify me. But it also felt inevitable, like I’d been walking toward this moment my entire life without realizing it.
Harlow Cruz. My best friend’s little sister.
When had it happened? When had she stopped being Jax’s sister and started being... this? This force of nature who made me forget every logical reason I had for staying away?
The creak of my bedroom door made me go still.
My breath caught in my throat as soft footsteps padded down the hallway. Which was ironic, considering I hadn’t slept a single second since lying down.
And then she appeared.
Harlow stood at the edge of the living room, silhouetted by the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. She was wearing my shirt, the worn gray t-shirt I left on the dresser, the one that was way too big for her and hung to mid-thigh.
“Owen?” Her voice was small, uncertain. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m up. What’s wrong?”
She shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other, arms wrapped around herself. “I can’t sleep. I’m still a little freaked out, I guess.”
She looked so fucking cute standing there.
Her blonde hair was a disaster, tangled and wild like she’d been tossing and turning for the past hour.
Her teeth worried at her bottom lip in that way she did when she was nervous, and there was something almost shy in the way she wasn’t quite meeting my eyes.
I rolled onto my side and lifted the edge of the blanket.
“Come on.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me.” I patted the narrow strip of couch beside me. “Get over here.”
“Owen...” She bit her lip harder, and I tracked the movement like a man hypnotized. “Are you sure? I could just... I don’t know, watch TV or something. I didn’t mean to…”
I didn’t let her finish.
I sat up, reached out, and grabbed a fistful of her shirt, tugging her toward me. She stumbled forward with a surprised squeak, and I used the momentum to pull her down onto the couch, catching her before she could overthink it.
“I’m sure,” I whispered. “Now shut up and let me hold you.”
She let out a breath that was half laugh, half something else. “So bossy.”
“You love it.”
“Maybe.”
But she was already settling against me, her back pressing into my chest, her body fitting against mine like she was designed to fit into this exact space.
The couch was too narrow for two people, so there was no room to spread out.
No buffer zone. Just her, soft and warm against me.
I was trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was wearing nothing but boxer briefs, and she was pressed against every inch of me.
I pulled the blanket over both of us and wrapped my arm around her waist, tucking her closer. She made a small sound that vibrated through my chest.
“This is very friendly,” she murmured.
“I’m a friendly guy.”
“You keep saying that.” Her hand found mine under the blanket, her fingers threading through mine. “I’m starting to think it’s a lie.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Friendly guys don’t usually pull girls into their arms in the middle of the night.”
“Maybe I’m a new kind of friendly.”
She snorted. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Silence settled over us, but it wasn’t awkward.
I could feel every point where our bodies connected. Her shoulder blades against my chest. Her ass nestled against my hips, which was becoming a problem I was going to have to very carefully not think about. Her bare legs tangled with mine, smooth skin against the rough hair of my calves.
She smelled like my body wash, and the realization sent a possessive thrill through me that I had absolutely no right to feel.
Her muscles slowly relaxed, the tension draining out of her inch by inch as the warmth of the blanket and my arms worked their magic.
“Sleep,” I murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
“Mmm.” Her breathing was already slowing, evening out. “You’re very warm.”
“That’s my only redeeming quality.”
“Lies.” The word was barely audible, slurred with exhaustion. “You have at least two.”
“Only two?”
“Maybe three.” A pause. “On a good day.”
I smiled into her hair, my chest tight with something I couldn’t describe.
Her body went boneless against mine, her breathing deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep. I held perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell had settled over us.
This was dangerous. But right now, in this moment, with Harlow’s heartbeat steady against my palm and her warmth seeping into my bones, it didn’t matter.
Right now, this felt right.
It was like coming home to a place I didn’t know I was searching for. Like finding something I hadn’t realized I lost.
I could see myself doing this every night. Holding her like this. Falling asleep with her weight pressed against me and waking up to the mess of her blonde hair and the soft sound of her breathing.
It was so clear it terrified me.
But even terror couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. The exhaustion I’d been fighting finally won, dragging me under with Harlow’s name on my lips and her body warm against mine.
My last thought was that I would figure out how to be terrified tomorrow.
Tonight, I just wanted to hold her.