After a restless night of sleep, I’m happy to be hugging my sister. She looks fantastic and is visibly healthier and moving with more ease than I’ve seen since before the accident. My mom is greeted with hugs by some of the staff while I stand to the side and hold Dakota’s hand. Regardless of where we go or if my mom knows anyone, she always leaves her mark and this place is no different.
Dakota takes me on a tour of the property while my mom visits with some of the women she’s met on prior trips. One of the things I’ve missed most during Dakota’s absence has been the comfortable silence we’ve always been able to have. Every so often, she points to something and tells a little story.
She’s laughing. I’ve missed that sound.
When we approach a small stream, she picks up a rock and sends it skipping across the water. Small ripples appear and I pick up my own rock to attempt the same result. I’m not nearly as successful as a “plop” sound is my result and my rock sinks like the remakes Hollywood is doing of eighties classics.
I promise you, if they attempt a remake of Top Gun I’m going to have to write a letter to someone. It will be scathing. Mark my words!
“Dang, what’s got you all wound up?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh, no. Something. Let’s sit over here, there’s a bench.”
I follow Dakota and take a seat next to her. The view before us is beautiful. I imagine the canopy of large trees shields this spot from the blazing afternoon sun while the sounds of nature surround us.
“Talk.”
“Honestly?” She nods the affirmative. “I was just thinking how Hollywood has clearly run out of ideas if it is remaking eighties movies and I better get out my stationary because I’m going to have to write a letter if they attempt a remake of Top Gun.”
Dakota begins laughing. This isn’t a chuckle or a giggle. No, this is full-out belly laughs with a snort for good measure.
“I’m glad I could humor you. I’m serious.”
“I know! I think that’s what is making it so humorous. Should Hollywood dare remake the cheesiest movie ever, I will fully support your campaign to put an end to their shenanigans.”
I smack her arm in mock anger. “It is not the cheesiest movie ever. It’s romantic.”
“Whatever. So, tell me what’s going on? I Skyped with Dad and the girls this morning. I can’t believe Cali has more teeth! What are you feeding her? Steak?” I hear Dakota’s effort to tease but her heart breaks at the milestones she’s missing.
“Of course. Nothing but the best for the littlest Jennings. Nothing is different than when I talked to you yesterday morning. Mom and I drove, she fell asleep, and she snored. Loudly.”
“That is not what I mean and you know it.”
She nudges me and winks. I roll my eyes. It’s like we’re still teenagers and she’s trying to talk to me about boys I like. I’m not biting. Sure, I told her about Owen. Mostly, I told her he was a guy from work and was being friendly. Then she saw him on that one Skype session and she hasn’t let up.
“What do you want me to tell you? I slept with Owen? It was amazing? I’ve never had orgasms like that? Well, there ya go. The nitty gritty. Owen Butler is amazing in bed, his body is like something straight out of Greek mythology, and I’m pretty sure he’s packing more in his pants than the average guy.”
“You’re pretty sure?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly been around the block too many times. I mean, I bought into the stereotype and lost my virginity to my prom date. Who, by the way, never called again.”
“Yes, but you dated in college. And, you were with Kent for years.” Her attempt to try and make me feel better is noted but unnecessary.
“Yeah well, I’ll tell you this. Each of those guys combined don’t hold a candle to one orgasm from Owen.”
“And, dearest sister, how many have there been?”
“I’d like to just plead the fifth on that.”
Dakota doesn’t push anymore. We sit in that comfortable silence again before standing and walking back to the main building. The next few hours are spent with us meeting with Dakota’s counselors and discussing her transition back to her life. Concerns were raised about too many changes in her life and the stress those may bring in her recovery. A primary concern was being far from her support system. But, eventually they realized she had support and in the end only Dakota knows what is going to work for her.
Still exhausted from the drive and emotions of the day, Mom and I returned to the hotel and ordered room service. Something Dakota said to me when we were leaving keeps playing in my head on a continuous loop.
“I know you like him. That’s a good thing. When you talk about him, you look … happy. Min, it’s okay to be happy. I’ve been there. I want that for you too. Love is an amazing thing and to share a life with someone that loves you is never something to be regretted.”
If I took anything away from today, it was that my sister is right. I want to be loved. I want to be happy and make someone else happy. I’m not quite sure the orgasm giver is that person, but considering the only person I want to talk to right now is him, that must say something. Still, I’m not going to call him. And, I’m not going to text him. I made last night awkward and I won’t do that again.
Twenty minutes after starting a movie, my mom is asleep. I’m enjoying the ensemble cast of the movie she chose when my phone chirps a message. I push the button, bringing up the home screen to see I have four messages. Funny, I don’t remember hearing it chirp multiple times.
A quick glance confirms one is from Piper and the other three are from Owen. I open Piper’s text first.
Piper: I know you’re out of town but I messaged you three book recs. I’ll talk to you when you get back! I hope you’re having a good trip.
I’ve really lucked out finding friends in Lexington. It’s made my decision to stay so much easier. I also know that both Ashton and Piper will welcome Dakota into their lives without question. That’s just the type of people they are. Taking a deep breath, I tap on Owen’s contact and note three messages all sent within the same minute.
Owen: U up?
Owen: Gess nt
Owen: Y do women wear heels if they R going to complain their feet hurt?
My heart drops to my stomach. He’s out and, from the text shorthand, he’s drinking. He’s meeting women.
He just friend zoned me.
Good to know. I don’t respond and instead turn the volume off on my phone and set it on the nightstand before rolling onto my side. We’re having breakfast with Dakota in the morning and I need some sleep.
The weekend with Dakota was fun, emotional, and the next step to her coming home. Assuming she is released from her physical therapy and allowed to find someone closer to home to work on helping her build her strength, she’ll be home before the end of summer.
I only missed one day of work and yet my desk looks like a bomb went off. I sat down with Jameson with our morning coffee and ran through the fires that need putting out and the highlights of the upcoming week. Thankfully, he’ll be out all afternoon meeting with potential clients and I’ll have the time to catch up.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m starving and need out of this office. I text both Ashton and Piper to see if they are available for lunch but neither are. So, instead here I sit at the small café in town with my e-reader, a large spinach salad, and an iced tea to keep me company. I’m engrossed in this romance about a woman’s mishaps with online dating when the chair across from me slides out and someone flops down in it. I stop with the fork millimeters from my mouth and peer up to see Owen sitting across from me.
“Hey,” I say before stuffing the large bite of salad in my mouth.
“Hey, yourself. How was the trip?”
Why does he have to look so good? My friend. Seriously, it’s unfair. I probably look a hot mess. I was exhausted this morning when my alarm blasted some godawful music and jarred me from a deep sleep. Not caring to put the effort in, I simply showered, blew my hair dry, and then tossed it up into a messy bun. Instead of my normal work uniform of a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels, today I’m in a pair of skinny jeans, blinged-out flip flops, and a sleeveless tee with a chunky necklace. I look cute, but I’d usually only dress like this on the weekend.
“It was good,” I mutter before taking another bite of my salad.
“That’s cool. I met your dad yesterday.”
I choke on the spinach and reach for my iced tea before responding. Owen begins to make his way to me, probably to smack me on the back and save me from a death by spinach, when I wave him off.
“What? When? Where?”
Laughing, Owen steals a piece of the garlic bread from my side plate. It’s fine, I don’t need the carbs anyway. Liar. I want the carbs. They’re my friend when I feel like crap.
“Relax. I was out for a run in the park and he was there with the squirt and the baby.”
“Why did you meet him?”
“Well, because I said, ‘hello, you must be Mr. Walker.’ Turns out, he was. Imagine that.”
“You don’t have to be a smartass. You didn’t tell him … I mean…”
“Whoa there. It’s not that big of a deal, I told him we’re friends and that we work together. Contrary to what you’ve heard, Minnesota, I’m not one to kiss and tell. Or,” he says, pausing and leaning forward. I do the same in response. “Orgasm and tell.”
“Asshole,” I mutter. He laughs. See, asshole.
“Anyway, it was cool. We talked for a few minutes and then I bailed. No biggie.”
I don’t have an opportunity to respond before the clerk calls Owen’s name and he stands to retrieve a large box of food. I stuff another bite of salad in my mouth as he pays and the girl taking his money blushes. Has she no shame? He’s a player, girl. Walk away.
“Well, I better get this food back to the site. Those guys’ll start eating each other’s flesh soon.”
“Yeah, sure. Well, have a good day.”
“I’ll talk to you later?” It’s a question, not a statement, and my response is a non-committal shrug of my shoulder and head nod. Whatever the hell that means.
Suddenly, I have less of an appetite than when I arrived. Powering down my e-reader, I wipe my face, stand, and toss the items on my tray in the trash. Once I’ve made it back to my car, I openly chastise myself for not only my reaction to Owen but my quickly constructed walls. I promised him if I had feelings I’d end whatever we’re doing. I can’t keep talking to him, laughing with him, sleeping with him. This is the moment where I look around and all the little yellow caution and red danger flags start popping up.
Yellow flags cautioning me to avoid getting any deeper before I develop real feelings for Owen. And, red flags that confirm it’s too late and I already have them.
If only I paid attention to the flags. I don’t. And, about an hour after I put the girls to bed and Owen texts me, I unlock the front door and let him in. In more ways than one.