“I don’t.” It was the truth. I had no idea who Jake really was.
“Then, how did he know your name, Abby?” His voice was getting louder. His eyes were red and blood shot. An open bottle of Jameson sat in the cup holder of the center console; his fist was wrapped around the neck. He took a swig and set it back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I don’t like your tone, Owen. I don’t fucking know him. I saw him ride into town and he almost blew me off the road. That’s all. Alissa must have told him my name or called me by it in front of him.” I didn’t mention sleeping in his junkyard. I don’t know why I was lying, but Owen’s current state and attitude didn’t warrant the truth. “Does it fucking matter?”
“Yes, it fucking matters! I don’t want you talking to him!”
I didn’t need his shit. I reached for the handle and pulled the door open. I hopped down from the truck and started toward the street.
“Abby! Abby!” Owen yelled. He jumped out of the truck, too, catching up to me in just a few strides. He made a move like he was going to hug me or restrain me somehow, but I stepped back before he could.
“Don’t touch me, Owen. I’m fucking serious.”
We were standing under the only street light on that side of the bridge, positioned right in front of the Fletchers’ house, which goes to show how much pull Owen’s family had in Coral Pines. “I am so sorry, Abby. I’m an idiot. I know I shouldn’t have told you what to do. Will you please, please forgive me?” His voice sounded strained, like it was difficult for him to apologize. “I just see the way he looks at you, and I don’t want other guys looking at you that way.”
“What are you talking about, Owen? I don’t even know Jake, and you and I are just friends. That’s all.” If even that, I thought. “So, you shouldn’t care who looks at me, because I’m not into that kind of shit—not with you, not with anyone.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m sorry. It’s just that…he’s not a good person, and the way he looked at you was making me crazy.”
How was he looking at me?
“You’re forgiven, Owen.” I turned to leave again. “But, I gotta go.”
“Where you gonna go, Abby?”
I opened my mouth to give an answer, but nothing came out.
“Stay here tonight. I have my own part of the house with my own entrance and everything. No one will even know you’re here. I’ll even sleep on the couch and give you the bed. Please?” Owen made sad eyes and stuck out a pouty lower lip.
I laughed.
What did he want with me anyway? I wasn’t from his side of the tracks. I was a girl who couldn’t even tell you what city my side of the tracks ran through. The Fletchers’ garage was bigger than any house I’d ever lived in.
I really didn’t want to sleep in Owen’s room with him, just feet away from his family. But I had nowhere else to go. Jake had caught me in the junkyard, so sleeping in Nan’s old truck was no longer an option.
I sighed, defeated.
“Okay, but just tonight,” I said. He grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Owen really did have his own separate entrance. His room was more like a studio apartment, complete with its own mini-kitchen and living area. His house was huge, and it wasn’t even the only one on the property. His entire family lived in four separate homes, on ten acres. The one that held his apartment was the main house, and the largest. It was three stories with white siding and red shutters. It was like Little House on the Prairie on steroids, more plantation than house. I was curious how it felt to be so close to family all the time, especially since I had none.
I pulled a pair of running shorts from my backpack and a lighter long sleeved t-shirt and changed in Owens bathroom. When I came out Owen was laying on his bed, wearing only his boxers, flipping channels on the TV, a bottle of beer at his lips. “Want one?” He lifted the bottle to me.
I ignored his offer. “I thought I got the bed?”
“I thought we could watch some TV first. I’m not really tired yet and the view from the couch is lousy.” The goofy grin on his face made me hesitate for a second before giving in. There was no trace of the anger he displayed in the truck, just good ol’ happy Owen. The Owen I had started to like. And I really needed some time to just sit and watch a little mindless TV.
“Fine, but no funny business,” I said sternly, “and I get to pick the show.”
“Yes ma’am.” Owen saluted me. “Scouts honor.”