Melody leads us to the recliner beside Linda while my Mom and I follow. When we reach Linda, Mom grabs her free hand and gives it a squeeze. A look passes between the two women, a look of knowing, of disbelief, of Can you believe we drew the short straw again?
I suddenly feel like I don’t belong here. It’s my mom’s third time doing this and I’m only just now coming to help. I’m an asshole and I feel like shit for sending money when I should have been there to hold my mom’s hand.
Melody gets my mother set up, and the irritation I felt toward her for flirting with Owen ebbs as I watch the kindness with which she treats my mom.
"This is my daughter, Autumn," my mom says, introducing me to Linda. She extends an arm while she speaks, and Melody slips on a blood pressure cuff. "She came here from New York City to be with me."
My chest swells at the hint of pride in her voice. Maybe I could make up for not being there before; my mom certainly doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge over it. "Nice to meet you," I say to Linda.
Linda grins. One front tooth is crooked, overlapping the one beside it, and it's endearing. Imperfections are my favorite thing about people. Owen has a scar on his ribcage from hopping over a fence when he was younger; my favorite thing was to trace my fingertips over the rippled, white flesh.
I shake my head as that thought pops into it.
"Nice to meet you too. You have a pretty great mom, you know that? She's a hoot. She made sure I knew what to expect after my first treatment. Thank God for her. I tell you what, I'd have been scared shitless last time had it not been for Faith." She smiles again and takes a big breath.
I like this lady and I really like how much she likes my mom. "I'm glad you had her during a difficult time."
"We had each other," my mom clarifies.
"How's it going over here?" Owen's voice comes from behind me. "Are you getting settled in alright, Faith?"
"Sure am," she responds, tipping her head at Linda and smiling mischievously. "This broad's trying to get me in trouble already."
"Guilty," Linda says, holding up one palm.
Owen laughs, and I feel it, deep down in my core, sliding over my skin. I hate how much I still find his laugh attractive. It’s a bit wild and carefree, not the restrained laugh I use with people.
I look over at my mom in hopes of pushing these thoughts from my mind, and I'm just in time to see Melody slip the IV needle into her arm.
Shit. I hate needles. My eyes lose focus, my stomach turns over and all of a sudden, I’m falling.
Strong arms wind around my waist, then I'm pulled into something solid.
"Still afraid of needles, I take it." Owen's murmur vibrates against the side of my head as I realize he’s caught me from falling and now I’m flush against his body.
I nod. I can't speak. It might be the needle. Or it might be the fact that I'm being held by the person I've spent years trying to forget. A person who still has this ridiculous, unexplainable ability to make my body react.
It's probably the needle. It’d better fucking be the needle. I spent way too much in therapy for Owen to still make me feel this way.
I take a shaky step away from him. One of his arms is still wound around my waist to steady me. Three curious gazes are on me as well.
Well, two, anyway. My mom knows about my aversion.
"Needles," I say weakly, and my one-word explanation seems to be enough for Linda and Melody.
"Happens all the time." Melody waves a hand around like it was no big deal.
"Autumn, why don't you get out of here for a while?" my mom suggests.
“No. I’m good.”
Owen breaks in. "She's right, Autumn. The treatment takes a while. Will you be okay in here for a few hours?"
I glance back at the IV in my mom’s arm and another wave of dizziness overtakes me. "Okay, maybe I will step out." I lean down and brush a kiss over my mom's cheek. "Call me when you're done. I'll come right back."
I say goodbye to everyone else and retrace my steps through the room and out into the hall. I'm almost to the door that leads to the waiting room when I hear my name.
"Autumn, wait."
I’m still not used to hearing his voice.
I pause just outside the door and turn around. Owen stops. His eyes are soft with apology. "About the other day … I'm sorry. I really want this”—he motions between our chests— “to be less contentious. I know we didn't end well, but that was a long time ago. We're adults now. We can do better."
He's right. I hate when he’s right. It’s been a decade since the dark choice I had to make, since his unforgettable words, and it does no good for me to hold resentment in my heart.
I nod slowly. "So, you want to be … friends?" Never in a million years would I have thought I'd ever be friends with Owen Miller. Not after what happened between us.
Relief tumbles over his features. "Friends. Friends would be great."
I simply nod and turn back around, opening the door and stepping through. I'm three feet away when I realize I didn't hear the door close behind me.
As I look over my shoulder, I find Owen standing there with his hand propped against the open door.
"What?" I ask, stopping. He has an amused look on his face.
"Are we the kind of friends who get coffee together?" His eyebrows raise hopefully. "I have some things I'd like to say."
Am I ready to go there yet with Owen? Maybe after a stiff drink, but not coffee. Not today.
“Maybe another time.” I give him a sheepish smile and he frowns slightly, nodding.
I turn around and keep going until I get to my mom's car. As I slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath, the tension melts into a puddle at my feet.
He'd watched me until I walked out of the treatment facility and turned the corner. I didn't have to look back at him to know it. I felt his gaze on me, felt the apology I'm certain lives somewhere inside him. Do I have an apology inside of me for him as well? All those times he called after and I never answered. The deleted emails, returned letters. Changing my number, my dorm room and just about anything so that he could never contact me again…
Maybe.
Just maybe I owe him an apology too.
From the look of it, he's been waiting a long time to ask me for coffee and tell me he's sorry about what he said the last time we saw each other.
He can wait a little longer.
Chapter 6
Autumn
I'm glad I let everyone convince me to leave the hospital during the treatment. I needed the sun and fresh air and general lack of needles and blood. Each time I've been around Owen it feels like I'm gasping for oxygen, and that makes me nervous. I was prepared mentally for the anger I felt around him, but not the other stuff…
The car window is rolled down; the air rushing through pushes my hair around my face. I don't have a hair-tie, so I wind it into a loose knot and tuck it into the back of my t-shirt. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm heading for Main Street. I make a right turn onto the lengthy thoroughfare and my vision explodes with tourists. They wear hats and visors, loose t-shirts and shorts. Some wear fanny packs. I used to think fanny packs were the epitome of nerdy, but now that I'm older I see the utility in them. Although, I'm not sure if appreciating their function would ever convince me to wear one.