Chapter Ten #3
Was that why he struggled to lower his gloves and make himself fully vulnerable to Tyler, the one person who’d never let him down?
Tears stung his eyes, turning the speed bag into a black blur as he continued to pummel it.
Owen hadn’t been fighting the universe; he’d been battling himself—then and now.
He’d chosen belligerence and indifference in school and resisted any offer his teachers made to help him.
Owen hadn’t wanted to get tested for disabilities and receive actual proof there was something wrong with him.
That stubborn choice was a single snowball rolling down a hill, and it got bigger with each mulish decision, until it became an avalanche that buried Owen beneath a mountain of regret.
He’d tunneled his way out to find beautiful, loving, and loyal Tyler.
It was fucking time to fight for their future instead of anticipating defeat.
His arms and legs burned by the time he switched over to the heavy bag, but he didn’t relent.
Owen alternated between jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts until he was too exhausted to think.
And hungry. He’d worked through dinner and would regret it later when he foraged for snacks in Tyler’s cabin.
He could’ve gone to the kitchen and helped himself to leftovers, but he wasn’t in the mood to face anyone.
They might ask questions Owen didn’t want to answer.
He tossed the gloves in the bin designated for sterilization, then removed and discarded the tape from his hands.
Owen burned from head to toe, so putting on pants and a thick coat over his workout gear seemed counterintuitive, but he’d learned from past mistakes.
He pulled a knit cap over his wet hair and quietly made his way through the sprawling house.
Fortunately, he made it out without running into anyone, and the cold bite in the air got his tired limbs moving.
Owen smiled when he saw Finley’s truck and trailer parked among the others.
That motivated him even faster than the cold.
He pushed inside Tyler’s cabin and found him lounging on the couch, watching television.
He wore a faded shirt, sweats, and thick socks on his feet.
His hair was still damp, and the scent of Irish Spring drifted in the air.
Tyler greeted him with a smile that melted his freaking bones.
Owen got a taste of what their future could be like over the past week and a half, and he was terrified of losing it now.
But were those Owen’s thoughts or just remnants of his late uncle’s misguided attempts to make him tough?
“How long have you been back?” Owen’s voice came out sounding rough and raspy.
Tyler sat up and raked his dark brown gaze over him before responding. “A few hours.” He rose to his feet and crossed the room with purpose.
“I’m sweaty and smelly,” Owen warned, taking a few steps back.
“So what? I’m happy and horny.” Tyler pressed his body flush against Owen’s and draped his arms over Owen’s shoulders. He smelled like butterscotch candy, and Owen wanted to devour him.
Resistance was futile, and he returned the embrace instead with his arms settling on Ty’s lower back. “Why didn’t you come find me?”
Tyler pressed a brief kiss to Owen’s mouth, then searched his expression.
“I did. You were pounding the hell out of the bags, and I know when to give you space.” His lips curved into a wry grin.
“I also know how hungry you get after a workout and brought back leftovers. You take a shower, and I’ll reheat them for you.
” He lowered his arms as if to break their connection, but Owen tightened his hold before Tyler could budge.
“I haven’t talked to Finley about this yet, but I want to take you to meet my mom after Thanksgiving.”
Tyler’s eyes filled with tears. “You do?”
Owen nodded vigorously. “I want to show you where I came from. I want to let you…in.”
Tyler looped his arms around Owen’s neck and squeezed. “I want that so much.”
“My past is the opposite of postcard pretty,” Owen said, “but it’s part of me.”
Tyler pulled back and stared into his eyes. “And I love all of you. We’re going to have the best holidays ever.”
Owen felt the need to temper his expectations, then realized that was what Howie would have done. “Yes, we are.”
Tyler kissed him but pulled back before Owen could deepen it. “Go shower. You’ve got to be starving.”
Owen’s stomach growled as if that was its cue. “Okay, maybe a little.”
He didn’t dawdle in the shower because his legs felt like limp noodles, and he could smell the food Tyler had reheated.
Once he dried off and got dressed, Tyler served him meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole.
He entertained Owen with stories about their new foster horse, Dexter, preening for the Redemption Ridge ladies in the stable.
The laughter was exactly what Owen needed after an emotionally and physically draining day.
Exhaustion hit him like a knockout punch as they settled in to watch television, and Owen could barely keep his eyes open.
“Come on,” Tyler said. “Let’s go to bed.”
“You can stay up and watch television,” Owen suggested. He’d be down for the count as soon as his head hit the pillow anyway.
“I’m beat too,” Tyler replied with an exaggerated stretch. “Dexter was a handful today.”
They stripped down and slid beneath the covers. It was Owen’s turn to be the big spoon, so he bracketed his body around Tyler’s and kissed his shoulder.
“Me and you,” Owen whispered instead of a standard love declaration.
“Always.”
Warmth and love enveloped Owen from head to toe as his eyelids grew heavier. So, this is what winning really feels like. He had a lot of work to do before he could claim the match, but this round belonged to him.