Owen

I’m emotionally and physically drained, and all I want is to go back to the hotel, drag Bree into my bed and sleep for fourteen hours straight. But when I hand Aiden a coffee, and see pure exhaustion in his features, I feel guilty for thinking it.

“Ye doing all right?” I ask.

Aiden drags a palm across the dark scruff that shadows his jaw then across his heavy-lidded eyes, and nods.

The nurse asked everyone to leave the room while she did a check on Emer and the baby over a half hour ago. Aiden fought her on leaving, until Emer gave him one of her little lectures.

Even half drugged and recovering from surgery, the woman is still a force to be reckoned with.

There were more complications after the C-section, and even though the doctors say they have everything under control, Aiden looks like he’s been through a war and back.

I don’t blame him.

I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it’d been Bree. I swallow hard at the thought.

“Ye need some sleep,” I say, leaning against the wall and shoving my hands in my pockets. “Ye’re going to be no good to Emer or the baby if ye don’t.”

“Not leaving them,” he mutters.

I didn’t expect that he would, but it was worth a try.

“You can go back in now,” the nurse says when she comes out of the room. Then, she narrows her eyes at Aiden. “But she needs rest.”

Aiden nods, then starts towards the room.

I don’t follow him.

It’s his time now.

Emer and the baby will be fine, and in a few days, Aiden will take them home, and they’ll start their new life together.

From the hallway, I watch Aiden pick his little girl up out of the bassinet, then lean down so that Emer can see her.

It’s a private moment, one that doesn’t belong to me.

But I want it to. But not with Emer. I realize that now.

I love her. Always will. But the emotion isn’t what I thought it was. It’s soft, constant, full of admiration and respect. But it isn’t passion. It isn’t fire. It isn’t what I feel when I look at Bree.

Cillian walks down the hall towards me, frowning. “Why the hell aren’t ye answering yer damn phone?”

“Battery’s dead. What’s wrong?”

“Did ye know Bree was leaving today?”

“Leaving?”

“Back to the States.”

Something in my chest sinks.

Shit.

With everything happening, I’d lost track of my days.

“When?”

“I don’t know. She was getting into a cab with that douchebag lighting guy when I saw her. Think they were going to the airport together.”

“She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Emer.”

“Ye told her not to come.”

“I didn’t mean…” I drag my fingers through my hair and curse loud enough for one of the nurses at the nursing station to look up and glare at me.

“What are ye going to do?” Cillian asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Ye’re going to let her go?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Ask her to stay.”

I did. Maybe not the way Cillian is implying now, but I told her she belonged here.

“I’m not talking marriage and kids.” Cillian goes on, still frowning at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot. “Just ask her to move here. See where it goes.”

My chest constricts. I’d barely let myself think about next week, so the thought of marriage, or kids, or having a real life with Bree; it rocks my entire foundation.

“I saw that.” Cillian chuckles, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Yer eyes, they went all…soft.”

“Shut up.”

He keeps grinning at me stupidly. “Ye’re in love with her.”

“No.” Maybe. I rough my palms over my face. “Fuck.”

“But when I mentioned marriage and kids, ye got this look on yer face.”

“Drop it, asshole.”

“Admit it. Ye’re thinking about it.”

“Maybe. But ye said yerself, she’s gone.”

“Ye still might be able to catch her. And even if she is, are ye really going to let a few thousand miles get in the way of happiness?”

“I don’t even know if she wants to stay.”

“This is her home. She belongs here. Just give her a reason to stay.”

He’s right. I need to tell her how I feel. If I don’t, I’ll regret it.

“Here, take my car and phone.” Cillian hands his keys and cell to me. When I don’t immediately leave, he growls out, “Go.”

Exhaustion blurs my vision as I race down towards the elevators, cursing when I realize I don’t even know where the hell Cillian parked.

It takes me ten minutes before I find his damn car. I plug my cell into the car charger, and head north towards the airport.

As soon as my phone is charged, it starts to ring.

“Yeah?” I say when Kevin’s name pops up, swerving between cars.

“I’ve got some more information for you.”

“Tell me.”

I listened to him ramble off a bunch of legal facts, my chest squeezing for Bree when he goes into some of the details he found out, Not only about Frank, but about her mother, too. No wonder the girl has trust issues.

The traffic, at least, is on my side, and I make it to the airport in less than a half hour, parking in a no-stop zone outside the entry, even though I know Cillian will kill me if his car gets towed.

Airports are nightmares for celebrities, but thankfully Cillian has a baseball cap in his glove compartment. I fit it snug on my head, dipping it low over my eyes.

Inside, I glance up at the monitors with all the departing flights.

There’s one to Detroit that leaves in fifteen minutes. That has to be the one she’s on.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go through the gates without a boarding pass.” The security guard says when I try to go through.

Fuck.

I’m never going to make it to her on time.

“I need a ticket,” I demand at the counter, slapping my credit card down.

“To where, sir?”

“I don’t care. Just give me anything that’ll get me through the gates.”

She frowns, but starts typing. “I have a flight leaving at-”

“I’ll take it.” Glancing up at the clock, I curse. I’m not going to make it.

Ticket in hand, I push through the line, not caring about the looks I get as I frantically hop through all the hoops airport security has in place.

My heart hammers in my chest when I see the terminal her flight is leaving from, searching through the mass of people for some sign of her.

Bree.

She waits in line, a frown tugging her lips, ready to board. Next to her is Chris, a giant smirk plastered on his goofy face, his eyes dancing all over her face, and her body.

“Bree,” I shout as she takes another step towards the flight attendant who’s checking tickets.

She doesn’t hear me, just continues to nod as Chris leans in too close, saying something in her ear.

What are the odds that the two of them are on the same fucking flight? Zero to nil. Which makes me wonder if he didn’t somehow plan it.

And there goes that insane jealousy raging through me again. Only with her. Never felt anything like it before.

“Is that the guy from Wild Irish?” I hear a girl shriek.

“Oh my God, it is.”

“That’s Owen Gallagher.”

Fuck.

I push through the crowd, ignoring the girl’s squeals.

“Bree,” I shout again.

This time, she turns, frowning when she sees me.

Definitely not the reaction I was hoping for.

“What are you doing here?” she asks when I pull her from the line.

“I came here to stop ye from getting on that plane.”

“Why?”

“Because I want ye to stay,” I say breathlessly, placing both palms on her cheek. “I want to try and make this work.”

She lets out a shuddering breath. “Owen, I can’t-”

I silence her protests with a kiss.

There are tears in her eyes when I pull away.

“Stay,” I demand.

Her breath comes out shaky. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. I just know I don’t want ye to leave.”

A small smile tugs at her lips, but she shakes her head. “There are things I need to deal with-”

“If this is about that lawyer. You don’t need-”

She pulls back, confusion in her eyes. “How do you know about that? I never told you…”

Shit.

Her blue eyes widen, emotion swirling as she pins me with a look.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Disbelief.

I need to make this right. Quickly.

“I had someone look into it.” My words rush out.

“It, meaning me. You didn’t trust me, so you had someone dig into my past?” She snorts and shakes her head, but I can see the tears she’s trying to hold back, the emotion that threatens to spill over onto her cheeks. “So, all of this was just a way of you keeping an eye on me? It meant nothing.”

I’m aware of the damn cellphones that are out and pointed at us, probably videotaping every moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Bree-”

“No. Don’t.” She looks around at all the people circling us. “I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”

“I was trying to help ye.”

“If you want to help me, then walk away.”

I don’t care about the fucking phones recording this, because I know if I let her get on that damn plane, I’ll lose her forever. And I’m not ready for that.

I remove the distance between us, taking her face between in my hands and crushing her mouth against mine, needing her to feel what I’m feeling. That I can’t walk away. Not from her.

“Stay with me,” I say against her trembling lips.

She blinks when I pull back, and a tear slips down her cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“This isn’t nothing, it’s something. I don’t know what yet, but I can’t let ye go not knowing. Maybe one day, we’ll get to the marriage and babies and stuff, but right now…just give us a chance to-”

“Owen, stop.”

I know I’m screwing this all up. I write words for a living, sing in front of millions of people, but this girl has my tongue and heart twisted in a million knots, and nothing is coming out right.

“Don’t leave,” I say again.

She lets out a quivering breath, and says softly, “I’m not giving up my life for a promise of something.”

I run the pad of my thumb across her cheeks, removing the tears. “Something is better than nothing.”

She takes a step back, picking up her carry-on and starting towards the gate. “Nothing can’t break your heart.”

Too damn late for that.