Page 259 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
And I’m a dick. Quickly, I try to recover. “That’s what I meant. Shit. Sorry, Owen. He was a jackass. I hate him for how he treated you at the end.”
“I didn’t like how he treated me either,” he says, slumping back in his seat.
That’s interesting. Owen didn’t sayat the end. “Do you mean how he broke it off, or just in general?”
Owen scrubs a hand across his jaw, staring off into the distance, maybe lost in thought. “Both?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I ask gently.
“Well, you said you didn’t like him. Did you dislike him all along?” he asks in a tone stripped free of the usual sarcasmthat drips between us. “Because I sure thought I liked him, but maybe I liked theintensityof him.”
“I can see that, I suppose. But still, I hate what he did in Vegas. Even if you liked him for a while, he didn’t deserve you. At all. You deserve better,” I say.
“Thanks. I think so too.”
“Why’d you stay with him so long?” I ask, since post-breakup, I was less concerned with rehashing the relationship, more concerned with taking Owen out to as many hockey games as I could—that’s his therapy. Sporting events, as well as cake, so I did my part, and mostly I tried to distract him by talking about things besides Ezra.
Maybe it’s time, though, to talk about his ex.
And surely this is still the safe zone.
Owen shrugs. “Good question. But I think maybe because he was possessive.”
Interesting. I wouldn’t have pegged Owen as wanting that.
That makes me wonder—if he were mine, could I give him that?
Stop, stop. You’re not in the running.
I keep my eyes on the road, going for nonchalance as I toss out: “Is that important to you? That kind of alphayou’re my man and no one better look at youapproach?”
He laughs. “You sound like TJ imitating one of his characters.”
“Speaking of, I listened to the audiobook of TJ’sHappy Trail. So good. The guy they got to read that book has all kinds of sexiness in his pipes.”
“Samuel Park? Yes, the ladies and the dudes love him, TJ says.”
“No surprise there. But anyway, are you into that type? The uber alpha?” I’m crossing my fingers, hoping Owen says no. I’mnot that type. I’m too... high-energy to be a typical alpha, even if I might be bossy in bed.
Might.
Who am I kidding?
Iambossy in bed.
But I’m not growly, grumpy, or possessive.
I just know what I like. To be in charge most of the time.
Owen shakes his head, lifts a hand, adjusts his glasses. He takes them off, cleaning them on his shirt. “No. I think it just made me feel wanted.”
My heart kicks a little harder. “And that’s important to you?”
Owen turns his face to me, glasses free. His deep blue eyes look even more vulnerable than usual, and they make my chest swirl with new sensations.
“Yes, it is,” Owen says. “I just don’t want to mistake possession for love again.”
His words ignite an unexpected flare of emotion in me. A spark of feelings for the man next to me. “You should be wanted. You should be loved. You should be with someone who wants you, and gets you, and understands you,” I say emphatically.