Soft Shock (17 page)

“Don’t be.”
Owen shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “How could you have
known?”

“I don’t want
to pry, but do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not
much to tell.” Owen walked across the room and sat on the arm of the sofa,
hands still in his pockets. “My sister got cervical cancer while she was in
college. They thought they got it all, but then it came back with a vengeance.
Too late.
Instead of going to college right away, I worked
full-time to help pay her medical bills through it all—from the original
diagnosis. And then…on the night she died, Dad got into a bad car crash. He was
probably distracted and out of his mind driving to the hospital. He’d just gone
home to get a few hours’ rest before she died. He’d been at the hospital for
days on end before that. He was frantic to get back to the hospital. He knew
she didn’t have much time left. We all did. And…he didn’t make it, either. We
buried them right behind each other. A day apart.”

“Jesus, Owen,”
Marci said. “I’d never have known. You seem so…well-adjusted.”

“Yeah, well, Jeremy’s
maladjusted enough for the both of us.” Owen’s laugh was clearly forced. “I’ve
been so busy helping Mom take care of him that I just never got around to being
bitter and feeling sorry for myself, I guess.” Owen ran a hand over his face.
“It’s not what they would have wanted anyway. They were all about living life
to the fullest and making every day count and all that other crap written on
those motivational posters. They would have wanted me to live a glass half full
kind of life.” He grinned a little. “I can hear them saying that exact thing
right now.
Either one of them.
Both.” Owen was staring
in the direction of the photos, but she had an idea he wasn’t seeing them. That
he wasn’t in that room with her at all at the moment.

Marci walked
over to him, set her glass down on a nearby end table, wrapped her arms around
him, and squeezed hard. At first, he didn’t hug back. Then he stood and put his
arms around her, returning the hug fiercely. He buried his fingers in her hair,
and she rubbed small circles in the center of his back over the rough fabric of
his sweater.

“It must have
been hard.” She couldn’t help but notice how good his arms felt around her even
under the circumstances. Solid. Warm. And he smelled really good.
Kind of spicy.
His chest rose and fell evenly against hers.

“We’ve all had
our shit to get through in life, I guess,” he said. “Now I guess you know
mine.”

She held him
closer and thought about how eerily he took it all in stride. And how wrong and
stupid and
short-sighted
she’d been to judge him based
on what she saw on the surface. Thinking he was some overly laidback loser
who’d goofed around and wasted his parents’ money taking eight years to get from
high school to his last year of undergrad. When he was maybe the sweetest, most
genuine, hardworking, selfless, and loyal person she’d ever met. And here she
was, jerking him around and playing with his emotions.

No, she wasn’t
doing that, was she? He knew the deal. He was the one who’d proposed it after
all. She couldn’t stand the idea of the alternative. She’d never wanted to hurt
him, but knowing what she knew now, she wanted even more to not hurt him.

Look at all
he’d given her. All he gave everyone. He was only ever striving to do the right
thing—had been since he’d hit her with that stupid bike and convinced her
to go to student health. Since before she’d even met him, he’d been giving more
than he even had to his family. And all she’d ever done was give him a hard
time. And make stupid assumptions about him.

“She looks so
healthy in the pictures.” She absently ran her fingertips up and down his
back,
barely aware she was doing it until he shivered a
little.

“She refused to
let anyone take pictures after…after.” His arms tightened around her just a
little.

“I really have
no idea why I said that.”
What a stupid
thing to say, Marci
, she chastised herself. “She’s beautiful.” She looked
up at Owen as she said this. He nodded but didn’t say anything.

She rested her
head against his shoulder. Well, just under his shoulder as that was as far as
her height would let her go even with her high-heeled boots. She wasn’t short,
but he was way tall. “I want to do something nice for you.”

“Not
necessary.”

“I know. I just
want to. In case you haven’t noticed…I’ve been kind of a jerk.”

He laughed at
this.

“I haven’t
meant to…”

“I don’t want
you to treat me differently because of this. That’s why I didn’t really want to
bring it up. I don’t want or need pity. Never have, never will.”

“I don’t pity
you,” Marci said. She locked her hands behind his neck, which required some
reaching. “I admire you. I had no idea how strong you are inside.”

“Like what?”
His hands moved across her back, thumbs caressing the muscles in the middle of
her back in a way that made her crave a massage.

“Huh?” She was
temporarily distracted by his touch and the intensity of his gray eyes.

“You said you
wanted to do something nice for me. Like what?”

“Dunno yet. But
I’ll think of something. Something good.”

“You know,
you’ve already done something nice for me.” He pulled back a little and moved
his hands from her back to her elbows.

“What?”

“You’re here,
aren’t you?”

Marci smiled
and reached up for a kiss, but he didn’t bend down and offer it. At first she felt
a little wounded, but then she realized that something over her shoulder must
have caught his gaze. Marci turned and saw Owen’s mom standing in the doorway
to the living room.

“Owen, can you
run downstairs and get your brother?” his mom asked as she wiped her hands on a
dishtowel. “It’s just about time for dinner.”

“He’s still
down there?” Owen asked, furrowing his brow. Why was every little thing he did
sexy to her?

“Been down
there all day. I think he misses his video games,” his mother said.

“I think he
misses having electricity,” Owen muttered under his breath. Owen walked toward
the doorway, and Marci followed. In the doorway, his mom gave his arm a brief
squeeze and smiled.

“What would I
do without you?” she asked.

“Probably have
less headaches,” Owen said.

She laughed and
gave his arm a little tap. “Oh, get out of here.”

Marci started
to follow Owen to the basement, but he turned around and said, “Why don’t you
stay up here and help Mom set the table?”

“But I thought
I’d go downstairs with you,” Marci said.

Owen shifted,
and he glanced toward the door to the basement before looking back at her. “I
think you should help set the table,” he said firmly.

She nodded.
“Okay. Sure.”

“I just don’t
want you to…I’ll be right back.” Owen looked annoyed with himself as he ran a
hand through his hair before letting it flop back over his forehead. His gaze
was now concentrated on the basement door.

“Ms. Matthis.
Let me give you a hand,” Marci said, moving away from Owen. She realized in a
disconcerted way that this was the most uncomfortable she’d ever felt around
him.

#

When Owen
walked into the basement where Jeremy used to live—he’d moved down there
in his senior year of high school and had never left until he was kicked out a
few weeks ago— he found Jeremy on an old couch with more of its stuffing
on the outside than in. Above the couch, two small, rectangular windows were
mostly white with the snow packed against them, but above the snowline was a
patch of inky darkness as the sun had already set. Jeremy was hunched over,
punching the buttons on his controller with his thumbs, playing Grand Theft
Auto.

“It’s time for
dinner,” Owen said.

Jeremy grunted
without looking up from the television screen.

“Will you be
joining us, or will you be disappointing Mom yet again?”

“We can’t all
be the golden boy,” Jeremy said with his eyes still glued to the screen. “You
got what you wanted. You got Mom to kick me out. Can you just leave me alone
now?”

“I didn’t want
that, Jeremy. You have to want more for yourself than loafing around. Worse
than that, do you know how much you were hurting Mom, coming in here drunk and
high and who knows what else? She was watching you destroy yourself. Is that
what you really want for her? And with you gone now, I don’t know if that’s
better or worse.”

“So what are
you trying to say?”

“That you’re
selfish.”

“And I guess
you get to say that from your high horse, oh savior of the family.”

“Where are you
even staying now? What are you doing with your life?”

“Like you
care.”

“You know she’d
love to have you back here if you would just—even just
try
to get yourself together.”

“You two can
have each other. I’m done.”

“After all
we’ve done for you, and you can’t even act like a decent human being for one
day
. Don’t think we didn’t all see how
red your eyes were when you came in here. They’re still red. What are you doing
to yourself?”

“Falling from
grace, brother dear.” Jeremy finally paused the game. He cackled—a loud,
harsh sound Owen wouldn’t really call a laugh. “Falling from grace.” He smirked
at Owen. You should love it. It’s making you look even better, even more golden
in comparison.”

“Nobody wants
this, Jeremy. All we want is for you to be okay. We want to help. You just have
to ask for help, be ready to receive it. You’ll get it.”

“Fine. You want
me to eat turkey? I’ll eat turkey.
But no more of this.
I’ve had enough of your lecturing to last me a lifetime.”

“A lifetime’s
not going to be very long the way you’re going.”

“Oh, ready to
get rid of the rest of your family now?”

“You seem to be
the one who’s eager to do that.”

“Let’s eat, oh
perfect one.” Jeremy crossed the room and clapped Owen’s shoulder as he passed.
“Let’s eat.”

Owen shook his
head sadly as he watched Jeremy jog up the stairs. He could only hope Jeremy
would get his life together before it was too late. And he could only hope that
whatever happened, it didn’t shatter what was left of their mother’s heart.

#

They were
walking toward the dining room when Owen jumped and pulled his vibrating phone
out of his pocket. He grimaced at the screen, silenced the phone, and stuck it
back into his pocket.

“Someone you
don’t want to talk to?” Marci ventured. Maybe it was Brynn. She didn’t know
where this jealous streak was coming from, but she liked the idea of Owen
ignoring Brynn because he was enjoying Marci’s company too much to pay
attention to that overly blonde overly perfect—wait, what? She needed to
cool it. Again, the foolish way she’d acted the night before last crept into
her mind.

“Kristin,” Owen
said softly.

“Another one?”
Marci caught herself and that note in her voice she didn’t like and tried to
laugh it off. She remembered Julie mentioning a Kristin but didn’t want to let
on that she knew Owen’s ex so much as existed. It shouldn’t matter to her who
was an ex and who wasn’t after all.

“My ex.” Owen
took the phone out again and scanned the screen, presumably reading a text
message. He laughed bitterly.

“What?” Marci
asked.

“She’s wishing
me a Happy Thanksgiving from Nassau.”

Marci peeked at
the phone from behind Owen. Whoa. Was she ever wishing him
something.
A tiny, thin blonde in a miniscule pink bikini smiled and waved from the
picture message on Owen’s phone.

“I take it she
doesn’t want to stay an ex.”

“Oh, I’d think
her fiancé would have something to say about that,” Owen said bitterly.
A little too bitterly.
More importantly, Owen hadn’t denied
that she didn’t want to stay an ex. And even more importantly, Owen hadn’t said
one word about whether he wanted this Kristin to stay an ex.

“How long have
you guys been broken up?” Marci asked.

“Few months,”
Owen muttered. He was staring at the screen like something on it was paining
him. Or maybe what someone in the picture had done to him was what pained him.
It felt inappropriate to ask who dumped whom, but she didn’t really need to.
She was pretty sure she knew who’d been the dumper. And that the dumpee was
standing in front of her looking very defeated.

Maybe it was
clearer than she wanted it to be. She’d been asking herself why Owen would go
for a non-supermodel type. Not that Marci thought herself ugly or fat or
anything. She had a little extra around the hips and a bit of a tummy, and that
was just fine with her. But Owen could get Victoria’s-Secret-boy-fantasy-level girls
like Brynn and this
Kristin
for just
sex or all the relationships—which was apparently what he really
wanted—with little or no effort on his part. Yet he put up with Marci’s
crap. Maybe there was all too plain of an explanation for that.

Maybe as he was
rebounding from the super hot type, he just wanted someone under his level for
a while. Someone who couldn’t burn and devastate him the way the girl in the
photo probably had. If Marci walked away, no matter what he said, she had the
feeling that Owen would barely feel the pinch.

But that didn’t
explain Brynn. Why didn’t he just go full-throttle for Brynn? Brynn obviously
wanted him to from what Marci could tell. Maybe he was enjoying the sex too
much to let Marci go just yet. And maybe she was thinking about all this just a
little too much. After all, she was the one who insisted on no strings. So why
was she so busy over here trying to create strings?
To thread
complications?