Chapter Ten He’s a Person, He’s a Man #4
Owen smiles at his best friend, taking her hand.
From there, Owen accepts the lead. A childhood spent in cotillion was one of the first things that Owen and Kaitlyn had bonded over, their parents forcing them through the classes.
Even if Owen has forgotten most of what he learned during those years, dancing is the one thing he liked enough to keep up with.
Whether it was going to a club night with Hailey and Abigail, or attending dance classes with Jacob to prepare for Kaitlyn’s
wedding, dancing gave Owen the chance to feel like everyone else, like he doesn’t have to worry about his body fighting against
him.
He holds one of Kaitlyn’s hands, pressing his other to her back to hold her close, her steps following his. More than once,
she’s a beat too early or mixes up which foot is which, tripping over Owen’s shoes.
“I’m not sure which Morrison sibling is worse,” he jokes.
“Don’t make fun of me!” Kaitlyn whines as she smiles. “I’m trying!”
“Not hard enough.” He puts his arm around Kaitlyn, spinning her, her dress twirling around her before he pulls her back in,
not quite dipping her, but still taking full control of the dance.
“Whoa . . .” Kaitlyn stares at him. “Where was this during my wedding?”
“Jacob’s two hundred and eighty pounds,” Owen reminds her. “I’m hardly able to do that with you.”
“I can’t tell if that was an insult or if you’re just weak.”
“I have arthritis,” Owen says bluntly.
“Right, right.” She nods. “Forgot about that one.”
Owen smiles at Kaitlyn, feeling a swell in his heart at the sound of his best friend’s laughter.
“I’m glad I came on this trip,” he says. Maybe it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the truth.
“Really?” Her eyes light up. “You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m not,” he promises. “Even if this thing could sink at any moment.”
“We’re still docked,” she reminds him. “We’d just evacuate.”
“And be stuck in Alaska,” Owen snorts. “Can you imagine?”
Kaitlyn rolls her eyes, letting her arms fall around Owen’s shoulders as the song switches to something even slower than before.
“I’m really glad you said yes. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
“You’re not just saying that?” Owen echoes, only kind of joking.
“Nope!” She shakes her head dramatically. “I swear.”
Over her shoulder, he can see Jacob sitting just a few yards away. Lord knows where Kevin and Abigail have gotten to, but
Jacob is still alone, his focus entirely on Owen. Like he’s the only person in this room full of hundreds. Kaitlyn sighs as
she rests her head on Owen’s shoulder, continuing to sway back and forth gently, Owen’s hands on her hips, his eyes on Jacob.
The song comes to an end, the dance floor thinning out even further.
“I’m going to go find my wife and pee,” Kaitlyn says, eyeing Owen. “Wanna help me?”
“You can’t pee on your own?”
She snorts. “I meant help me find Abigail.”
“I, uh . . .” Over Kaitlyn’s shoulder, he spies Jacob again.
Still staring right at him.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” he says. “I think I’m going to get some air.”
“All right, we’ll hook up later.”
“Yeah,” he says, watching her as she walks away.
For a beat, his gaze lingers on Jacob as he stands there.
Then, turning on his heel, Owen makes his way outside.
The deck is near the top of the ship, much smaller compared to the larger areas that it hangs over.
But it’s quiet, and that’s all that matters to Owen right now.
For a few precious seconds, Owen’s able to stand there in the near silence, the wind blowing through his hair, chilling his
ears, his nose no doubt turning red as he sniffles. From this high up, he’s able to watch the passengers who decided to skip
the party, walking back to their rooms after a long day or coming out to watch the northern lights that are supposed to be
visible at any moment now.
Owen breathes. In and out.
And for this little pocket of time, he actually feels okay.
Too bad the feeling can’t last.
Jacob falls in next to him, leaning against the railing of the balcony without a word, his shoulders maybe two inches from
Owen’s, probably less.
“If you were staring at me any harder, I might have a hole in my head,” Owen says, echoing the same words he’s heard from
Jacob, from Kaitlyn, from their mother. One of those Southern turns of phrase that he always loved.
“Sorry, I didn’t . . .” His voice has this lower quality to it. “Actually, I did mean to.”
“Jacob.”
“Sorry,” he repeats. “I think I’m drunk.”
“How much have you had to drink?” Owen asks.
“A shot of whiskey . . . about an hour ago.”
Owen feels an odd sense of relief. “Is that all?”
Jacob nods.
“I think you’ll be okay,” he says, reaching up to rub small circles on Jacob’s back. The gesture is meant to be a reassuring one, but Owen realizes far too late that it could be read as something more intimate. Maybe that’s what he wants.
“Sorry,” Jacob repeats, raking a hand through his hair. “I kept watching you dance with Kaitlyn, and I . . . I was trying
to work up the courage to ask you.”
“To dance?” Owen presses further, feeling that fluttering in his stomach.
Jacob nods.
Owen has never known the man to get embarrassed. No matter where they were, no matter in what context, Jacob never bothered
to hide the loudest or cringiest parts of himself. Owen had always loved him for that, the lack of effort it took for Jacob
to just be himself. Seeing him now, ashamed of this question he wants to ask? This is brand new.
And it breaks Owen’s heart.
“Jacob?” Owen prompts, reaching to place his hand on top of Jacob’s where it’s wrapped around the railing, his knuckles white
from how tight his chokehold on the guardrail is.
Jacob looks up slowly, first at Owen’s hand, and then at Owen.
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to dance?” Owen asks.
The band is still playing, though thanks to the wind, the music is barely audible. But that doesn’t matter. Not to Owen.
“Are you sure?” Jacob asks.
Owen nods. “I know what I want.”
And for once, Owen’s telling himself the truth.
He lets Jacob take the lead, slotting his hand onto Owen’s waist, Owen’s hand on Jacob’s broad shoulder.
It feels right to hold him like this again.
So, so right. Jacob gazes into Owen with this tender expression, one that makes Owen feel seen, understood.
Then, without asking for permission, Owen leans forward to rest his head on Jacob’s chest, his ear pressed right to Jacob’s heart.
There’s no mistaking the nervous, heavy, rhythmic thudding.
He wishes he could tell Jacob that he’s nervous too, that his heart is beating just as wildly. Just so Jacob knows that he
isn’t alone.
Then, as if he can hear Owen’s thoughts, Jacob’s breathing finally relaxes, his heart settling back into something steadier.
The same rhythm that Owen used to fall asleep to on the nights when Jacob’s chest was the perfect pillow.
Owen doesn’t care how long they stand out there; he doesn’t care that he can hear the music stop as the band takes a break,
generic lounge music taking its place. Owen doesn’t care as the sun fully sets, and the night grows unbearably cold, the nearby
heat lamps providing no relief at all from the elements.
He doesn’t care. Because he’s here with Jacob. Getting to hold him again, for as long as he wants to. This is all he’s ever
needed. This security, this love, this understanding. Even if they don’t have that anymore, Owen will always feel grateful
to Jacob for giving that to him for as long as he could. And maybe Kevin is right, maybe he needs to let this go.
But maybe they could find something new.
Why not try at least?
Owen shivers against Jacob’s body, appreciating the way Jacob hugs him even tighter. They stopped dancing a long time ago,
choosing just to stand there, holding each other. But Jacob’s broad frame can only provide so much, especially since neither
of them is wearing a jacket.
“Want to go inside?” Jacob asks.
Owen nods, taking Jacob’s hand gladly, walking across the deck next to him. He can’t help but notice how the warm lights of
the atrium cast an almost angelic halo around Jacob’s head. He shines like the sun.
Just like he always does.
Owen’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the spill at first. As they both step into the atrium, his foot slips right out
from underneath him, kicking high into the air as his world shifts on its axis.
Then he falls.
Hard.