When I woke the next morning, Owen was no longer in the bed. I could feel the warm spot that he had previously occupied, but his absence worried me faintly. I knew I was likely overthinking it, but I couldn’t help wondering if he had decided that he regretted what had happened.

I hoped he would tell me as much if that were the case, liked to think he would care enough to tell me if he had decided that last night was a mistake. Then again, I hadn’t even spoken to him that morning, so fruitlessly worrying wasn’t going to do any good.

Rising out of bed, I noticed that his clothes had been tidied up, and my own were sitting at the foot of the bed in a folded pile. Well, surely he was just being considerate. I made a point of not getting dressed, walking straight out of the bedroom to seek out the man that had captured my heart.

I found Owen in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast out of what few ingredients were available in the safe house. I watched him silently for a moment before getting the confidence up to approach him. I wrapped my arms around him, enjoying that he had at least left his shirt off for the time being. I could only hope the fact that he’d put the rest of his usual attire on wasn’t some sort of terrible implication.

Although, if that wasn’t a bad sign, the way he stiffened in my arms certainly had to be.

“Good morning,” I said quietly, waiting for him to relax into my embrace.

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped out of my grip none too kindly, turning to consider me with a critical expression.

I deflated, already aware that he wasn’t going to be the kind man he had been last night. I hadn’t been that bad, had I? I thought I’d done a pretty good job; I’d managed to get him off, at the very least. Maybe he had just been caught up in the moment and felt taken advantage of.

Whatever the case may have been, he wasn’t happy.

“Let’s not get too touchy-feely, all right?” he said, an edge to his voice.

I flinched, trying to ignore the sting of his words. Clearly, I had done something wrong. I just wished he would tell me what it was, so I had a chance to make it better. I had no doubt that I had fallen for Owen in the time I’d known him, and I thought he might have felt something for me in turn. I no longer felt like a captive, if that could really even be used to describe my feelings prior to that moment.

Staring at him, I wondered how to go about asking him what I had done to upset him. I couldn’t just ask him if the sex was bad, could I? Surely there was something deeper than that, but I didn’t want to consider that possibility too intensely.

If it had just been an intimate flaw, I could easily dismiss that as inexperience. Maybe he would agree to a bit of hands-on practice, and I was confident that I could learn how to properly please a man. No, not just how to please any man—I wanted to know how to please him specifically. I wanted to know what touches sent a thrill through him, what jolted desire through his being.

Realizing that it was a conversation that was likely better saved for later, I offered him a nervous smile. He didn’t return the expression, looking rather strained. He turned his attention back to the pancakes he was cooking, looking furious to see that he had taken too long to flip the one in the pan.

He growled, grabbing the pan and throwing it in the sink—pancake and all.

“Son of a bitch, I can’t even make breakfast like this,” he swore, storming past me to rummage through the cabinets again.

This time, he came out with a box of cereal that had likely gone stale some time ago. I tried to keep a positive expression, flinching as he slammed the box on the table then tossed down a bowl.

“Eat up. We’ve gotta get a move on. I’ve dawdled too much on this mission,” he said coldly.

“W-was I that bad?” I stammered, and his expression softened slightly, if only for a moment.

He quickly steeled himself again, and I realized that trying to talk to him was a lost cause. I sat down at the table, pouring some cereal in the bowl.

“Is there any milk?” I tried again, hoping that he would at least answer that simple question.

“Sorry, no. You’re just gonna have to eat it dry. They didn’t really have a lot of time to stock this place,” he replied, not sounding remotely sorry.

I felt immeasurably silly sitting naked at the table while he paced the floor. He seemed lost in his own mind, and I wasn’t prepared to draw him out again. It seemed I was going to have to come to terms with the fact that we were pretending the night before hadn’t happened.

Belatedly, the thought struck me through the heart like a poison arrow. I frowned into my dry cereal, realizing what a dire mistake I had made. Not only was I miles away from home and being turned into the feds; I’d also lost my virginity to a man who seemed to care about nothing but the mission.

It was painful to think that his entire personality had been a facade up until that point. He had seemed so sincere, but perhaps he had only wanted one thing from me.

Well, one thing aside from turning me in.

Tears filled my eyes, and I struggled to keep my sniffles quiet. I took as much time as I could eating the depressing breakfast, musing that I could be eating at a five-star restaurant at that very moment, had I remained in Guam. I had given up everything for this stupid idea of freedom, and it seemed that I wouldn’t even get the chance to enjoy it with the man I loved.

I’d been an idiot to think he could have loved me back. I’d been stupid to think he could feel in any capacity at all.

“Owen, how much longer do I have with you?” I asked, noticing the subtle tensing of his muscles. “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. I just…I was just curious,” I blurted, trying to make up for my mistake.

“You have until you finish breakfast and get dressed. Since you’re not even eating, just go put some clothes on. We’ve wasted too much time already,” he snapped.

He stomped into the living room, grabbing a shirt from his suitcase. I watched him for a moment, aching at the thought that everything we’d been through was just a waste of time for him. It had been so much more than that—for me, anyway.

Jolting out of the chair as he glared in my direction, I padded into the bedroom to gather my clothes and get dressed. It occurred to me to try and escape from the bathroom window again, but I realized that I simply didn’t care enough to make the effort. Ultimately, it seemed that all I’d ever been was a glorified prisoner.

If he wanted to turn me over, I would allow it. I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him, even after the pain he’d caused me.

Taking my time to get dressed, I allowed my tears to fall freely in the loneliness of the empty bedroom. I wasn’t even that angry at Owen. He was only doing a job. I had more or less forced myself on him, and he had just given me what I’d thought I’d wanted.

Now that my innocence was gone, I had to accept that sometimes life just wasn’t fair. I couldn’t act like a sheltered child any longer. I would turn my father over, and accept whatever fate the FBI decided to inflict upon me.

When I stepped out of the bedroom, Owen was dressed and smoking a cigarette on the couch. I hadn’t even known he smoked, and it went to show just how little I actually knew about him.

I shuffled towards him, my arms hanging limply at my sides as I searched his expression for some semblance of the man I thought I had come to know.

He looked pained, in a way, but maybe I was just projecting my own feelings onto him.

“I guess we should get moving, then?” I asked quietly.

He nodded, rising from the sofa and stubbing out the cigarette on the rough fabric. It burned a hole through it, and I was somewhat shocked by the callous action. Somehow, the simple fact that he scorned the place that was so important to me was enough to spurn me into crying again.

His expression flickered from stony to sympathetic, and he reached out a hand as if to touch my arm. I drew away, turning to walk towards the door.

“Yeah. I guess it’s time we finish this,” he said from behind me, his voice gruff.

He pushed the door open, giving me a little push outside. I hesitated for a split second, glancing back into the safe house. It hadn’t been much, but it had been my one taste of something like freedom. It was the place where I’d lost my virginity. It was where I’d fallen in love…for what good that did.

Bidding the place a mental farewell, I allowed Owen to guide me to the car, ready to accept whatever fate lay ahead of me.