Owen could feel the frustration tightening in his chest, pressing against his ribs like a weight he couldn’t shake. He wasn’t mad at her, never at her, but at himself. Because no matter how many times he replayed it in his head, he knew he should have done things differently. Should have been better.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t blind to the way Lila responded to his frustration, how she stayed composed, like she was bracing for something. That realisation cut deeper than anything. He hated that any part of him made her feel like she had to hide her emotions, like she had to push down her fear instead of letting herself just be.
She was right. Of course, she was right. Moving forward was the only thing they could do. But that didn’t erase the fact that he had hurt her. That some part of her had feared his reaction, even if she didn’t let it show.
“I just-” He cut himself off, exhaling again. “I know we can’t change the past, I do. But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept that I messed up.”
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening for a second before he exhaled again, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that again. Like you’re being left in the dark or-” abandoned. He couldn’t even say the word out loud again. It made his chest ache just thinking about it.
Lifting his other hand, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before resting his palm gently against her cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over her skin. “I promise you, from now on, I’ll do better. I’ll tell you what’s going on, no matter how hard it is. You deserve that. We both do.”
Owen’s stomach twisted at her words. I’m sorry I felt that way. She wasn’t apologizing for something she’d done, she was apologizing for how she felt. Like she had to justify her emotions, like she thought being hurt was somehow wrong.
His fingers curled around hers, a gentle but firm hold, steady, reassuring. It wasn’t frustration with her, never with her, but with whoever had made her believe she had to apologize for her feelings. The thought of it made his chest tighten, but he kept his focus on her, on making sure she knew she was safe with him.
His jaw tensed as he forced himself to breathe. He needed to respond carefully, to show her she never had to apologize for this. “Baby…” His voice was softer now, deliberate. “You don’t have to be sorry for how you feel. Ever.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles again, slow and steady, his eyes searching hers. “You feeling hurt, or upset, or abandoned, none of that is your fault. And it damn sure isn’t something you need to apologize for.”
His chest ached as he said it, as he saw the weight of years pressing behind her eyes. He wished he could take that away, erase the voices that had ever made her doubt herself. But for now, he’d settle for making sure she never felt that way with him.
Owen let out a breath, then shot her a lopsided grin, the kind that softened the weight of the moment without dismissing it. “So don’t you dare apologize for how you feel again,” he said, mock-stern but full of warmth. “Not with me here. That’s, like, rule number one.”
He gave her hand a squeeze, the teasing edge in his voice softening as he added, “I mean it. No apologies for feeling things. Ever.”
Owen’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched her soft giggle, the attempt to lighten the mood, it was so Lila. But the small gasp that left her lips at his confession made his breath hitch. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d just made things worse, if she was going to step back, if she needed space. But she didn’t move. She just stood there, stunned, processing.
When she smiled, soft, genuine, unwavering, it was like the weight of the world eased off his shoulders just enough to breathe once again.
Owen blinked, processing her words, then let out a breathy laugh,half relief, half disbelief. Of course I mean that, baby. Why wouldn’t I? Her voice was so sure, like the thought of not meaning it had never even crossed her mind. And that… that did something to him. It made his chest feel too tight, his pulse too loud in his ears.
Sufficiently reassured, Owen’s smirk was immediate, the kind of cocky but warm expression that was just so him. “Why wouldn’t you?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly as if daring her to find a reason. “I mean, come on, Lila. Look at me.”
He gestured to himself with a little flourish, all confidence and playful arrogance. But then his grin softened, losing the bravado but keeping the warmth, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand, a quiet, unspoken reassurance beneath all the teasing. “I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he admitted, voice lower now, more sure of itself. “Because, damn, I’ll never get tired of it.”
Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he leaned in just a little closer. “And now that you’ve said it, you do realize there’s no backing out, right? You’re officially stuck with me.”
And before she could argue, he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, grinning as he pulled back.
Owen felt the last of the tension in his shoulders ease the moment she smiled at him. He hadn’t wanted her to feel pressured, not even for a second, but hearing her say she wanted this, that she saw it as something good, something amazing… that did something to him.
His grip on her hand tightened just slightly, thumb brushing against her skin as he took in her words. She wasn’t just agreeing for his sake. She meant it.
And then she kissed him. Soft, sweet, and full of quiet reassurance.
His breath hitched for half a second before he melted into it, his free hand moving instinctively to cradle the side of her face. When she pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, a small, almost breathless chuckle escaping him.
Owen barely gave himself time to breathe before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his chest in a hug that was, all warmth, all certainty, the kind of hug that made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he let out a breath against her temple.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more certain. He wasn’t just saying it, he meant it in every d-mn way possible.
For a moment, he just held her, grounding himself in the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her against him. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was this, he would fight for this, for her, every single time. Because with her, everything always felt bigger, brighter, more. And if she thought this would be amazing? Then he was damn sure it would be.
