XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Owen

OWEN

The highway across the pass was treacherous as fuck. The state patrol was, well, patrolling, making sure drivers were taking it slow and easy. The wall of snow on either side was impressive; Owen didn’t think he’d ever seen the snow piled that high before. But once they dropped down and passed through the small town of Skykomish, the road improved dramatically, and it wouldn’t be long now before they were back in Skagit.

Edmund was quiet. Owen wasn’t sure if it was to let Owen focus on driving or if he was thinking about the past two days. Owen knew why he was quiet. He didn’t want to give Edmund up. He wanted their unexpected weekend to continue, to blur into their real life as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He hoped Edmund wanted the same thing he did—a more permanent relationship—but something kept him from asking. Cowardice, likely. He was mortified he’d made the comment about being possessive… even if it was true.

Everything Owen knew about Edmund told him the older man was nothing but honest and open—and that he wanted the same thing Owen wanted. But what if he didn’t? So, instead of talking with Edmund about their weekend and a possible future, Owen spent the miles between the cabin and Skagit not talking and instead stewing about stuff he couldn’t control. Then he spent about twenty miles berating himself for hardly thinking about Pearl over the past forty-eight hours. He knew she’d been recovering, and the nurse had assured him she would give Pearl a message letting her know he was okay. But still, Owen was, without a doubt, the worst great-great-nephew in the history of great-great-nephews.

Eventually, he exited the highway and found his way to Edmund’s house. The snow had made it down this far but had only stuck on the lawns; the roads were clear and dry. After pulling into Edmund’s driveway, Owen realized he was going to have to ask Edmund for a ride to his place. What a fucking tool. He could take the bus, but the buses in Skagit only ran once an hour on weekends, and it was now early evening—the drive had taken over five hours. It was going to take forever to get home.

“Do you want to come in for dinner?” Edmund spoke into the silence. “I’m sure I’ve got something more than pasta in my pantry. If you have time, I could even take a steak out of the freezer.” He was talking to the windshield, not looking at Owen. It was his tell that he was nervous. “This is going to sound ridiculous and very likely whiny, but I’m not ready for our weekend to be over. It was fabulous, and”— he shrugged—“I’d like for you to stay. For dinner. Stay for dinner.”

Owen released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

“It’s a mess,” Edmund warned. “I had the wild idea to try to strip the old paint off the baseboards and moldings myself. I’m all thumbs. Most of the moldings have been pulled off the walls and are still waiting for me to get to them. I’m not sure I’m cut out for the do-it-yourself lifestyle.”

Grabbing his bag from behind the driver’s seat, Owen followed Edmund to the front door. His home was a large Victorian-era house probably built in the 1890s when Skagit was a boomtown and the railroad was just being built. It was three stories high, and a widow’s walk was perched on the top like a pillbox hat. The living room was a mess, as Edmund had warned. He’d removed the wainscoting and moldings. The wood was mostly stacked in a pile off to one side. Plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling, dividing the room in a ragged half, and Owen could see through to where Edmund had set up a work area for himself.

“It’s going to be beautiful when you’re done. I love it.”

“Thank you.” Edmund smiled at him. “But it’s not polite to lie straight to a man’s face. The damn place is a mess, and I think I’m going to have to hire someone to finish the job. I should’ve listened to Chance and hired someone in the first place. Let me show you the kitchen and give you a tour of the rest, if you’d like?”

Owen nodded. “Do you think you might have a charger cable for my phone? And can I use the bathroom?”

Edmund nodded. “Of course. The nice one is upstairs, and next to it, in my study, I have every electronic cable ever produced. I moved the damn things all the way from London and have no idea why. Half of them I don’t know what they go to, and the other half have the wrong plug. Shall we find a cable for you first?” Without waiting for an answer, Edmund crossed through the foyer to the staircase, and Owen followed.

The was a large landing at the top of the stairs with several doors leading off of it. Edmund pointed to one. “The loo’s there. I’ll be in here.” He opened a door to his right, flicking on the light as he did so.

Owen met Edmund back in his study a few minutes later. This room had obviously been restored already, or the previous owners hadn’t painted over the original wood. A beautiful rolltop desk sat in one corner, and jutting off of it along one wall stretched another expanse of desk space with two computer monitors and a keyboard sitting on it. Several bookshelves jammed with books lined the other walls.

As much as Owen wanted to see what books Edmund collected, instead he helped him search through a box he’d dragged out from under his desk. Someone had labeled it Derelict electronics and cables. Owen laughed.

“Don’t mock. If a thing exists, I have it stored in this box. It’s like Hermione’s purse.”

Sure enough, almost immediately Edmund found a cable that fit Owen’s phone.

“Let’s go down to the kitchen and get your phone charging and supper started, shall we?”

As soon as Owen’s phone powered on, several texts pinged.

“Do you mind if I check these? Then I can help with the cooking.”

“You do what you need to do. Would you like a glass of wine? I have a chardonnay chilled already and plenty of red as well.”

“A glass of red sounds amazing. I promise I’ll be quick with these, and then?—”

Owen had been about to add that they could talk about the past few days—now that he wasn’t driving and worrying about Pearl, he was ready to ask if Edmund wanted more—but there was a pounding on the front door while someone simultaneously rang the doorbell.

He glanced over at Edmund who, instead of seeming surprised, had a resigned expression on his face. “Apologies, that’ll be Chance and likely John.”

Edmund left Owen in the kitchen, panicking, while he greeted his friends at the front door. Owen tried not to eavesdrop, but it was difficult as none of the men were trying to be quiet.

“I tried to stop him, Edmund, but he had this idea he needed to check up on you.”

“Right,” came a second voice, this one with an accent much like Edmund’s, “and I do, don’t I? My best friend was trapped in the wilderness for days. That’s not like you, Edmund, to go off on a whim.”

“If you scare Owen off, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Oh, he’s here, is he? Well, let’s get this over with. I want to meet this man.”

Owen waited in the kitchen, petrified, clutching his phone to his chest as if it was his last hope. Another text notification came in, and he peeked at it. It was from a friend he hadn’t talked to in a while who was hoping Owen could hook him up with a job at Canopus. Good fucking luck with that, Owen thought. A text from Jude came through too. He didn’t say anything about Owen’s job, but he did ask that Owen have a certain file ready by noon Monday and wanted to know how the holiday party planning was going, so, Owen supposed, he must still have a job. There was also a text from Andy Dunn, which Owen deleted without reading.

Two men followed Edmund into the kitchen. One of them Owen recognized as the owner of a local movie theater. The NorthStar featured a lot of old movies and sponsored eclectic film festivals once or twice a year. The other man he didn’t know, but he was clearly Edmund’s friend and self-appointed protector.

The stranger stuck his hand out. “Chance Allsop, and this is my partner, John Hall.”

“Owen Addison.”

Owen shook Chance’s and then John’s hand.

Edmund narrowed his eyes at his friend, then opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of white wine, and placed it on the counter with a distinct clank. Then he crossed to a door in the wall opposite, opened it, and disappeared inside, reappearing seconds later with a bottle of red wine in each hand. These were also thunked onto the counter.

“You get the cheap stuff,” he growled at Chance.

“I should go,” Owen blurted. “I, um, probably should do laundry or something.”

The room felt silent. Owen felt all eyes land on him, and he squirmed internally. Laundry? Really? He couldn’t come up with a better excuse than laundry?

A crestfallen expression crossed Edmund’s face, but then he rallied, turning back to Chance.

“See what you did?” He accused his friend. “Owen and I were in the midst of planning a perfectly decent evening involving wine and dinner, and you barge in and interfere.”

Chance glanced at Owen, his all-knowing eyes taking Owen in with one glance. Owen tried his best to project trustworthiness but was certain he’d failed. Chance wasn’t fooled by Owen at all. He recognized Owen as a flake and a player.

He had been a flake and had been a player.

Owen needed to stand up and claim Edmund. He wanted to, didn’t he? Yes, yes, he did. The past few days had forced Owen’s feelings for Edmund to the surface. They were real, and Edmund felt something similar, Owen was sure of it. Even if they hadn’t talked yet—and they needed to—Owen was pretty sure he and Edmund were just at the beginning of something that would be wonderful if they followed their hearts. And they could do that without interference from Edmund’s well-meaning friend.

“Edmund? Can Chance and I have just a second? I promise I won’t leave.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes again, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them, and then he nodded and left with John in the direction of the living room. Owen heard John asking Edmund how the drive had been. Edmund replied, but Owen didn’t hear his answer.

Owen poured himself a glass of red wine from the bottle Edmund had opened and left on the counter.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Chardonnay, please.”

Owen poured a glass of the white and handed Chance the goblet, taking a hefty sip of his own while he tried to figure out the best way to say what he needed to. Chance waited.

“Look, thank you for being Edmund’s friend all these years. It sounds like he really needed one, and you did a great job. And thank you for moving to Skagit—Edmund would never have left England if you hadn’t. But, um, that part of your job as his friend, as his best friend—which of course you still are, I know—is past. I’m gonna take over the reins taking care of him, and together me and Edmund are going to figure things out.”

“You two were stranded for two days and it’s happily ever after?” Chance scoffed.

“To be honest, Edmund and I have been dancing around each other for a couple months, ever since I started at Canopus.” Owen shrugged. “He makes my day. Even before we, uh, did anything, it was the highlight of my day when he came into the office. Edmund is the kindest person I’ve ever known. He is also incredibly funny, although I don’t think most people get to see that part of him—and that’s fine. I want to keep him for myself anyway.

“I’ll be the first to admit I don’t have the best reputation as boyfriend material. But I’m past that now. This is going to sound nuts, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him. I’ve never felt this way before—about anyone.”

His throat was scratchy. He took another healthy sip of wine, breathing in its bouquet before swallowing. Chance mimicked him, then set his goblet back down on the counter.

“Edmund is like my brother from another mother, right? He came home with me for the holidays over thirty years ago and never left. He’s…” Chance glanced into the hall, making sure Edmund and John were still talking, “incredibly special to me. It’s asking a lot for me to trust you with his heart.”

“Edmund is an adult. I think you need to start treating him like one instead of the lonely boy who you befriended. I mean, you’ll always be Edmund’s best friend, I know that, but it’s my turn to watch over him.” Owen had no real idea what he was saying—the words were just spilling out of his mouth—but he meant them. He meant every single one.

Chance looked at him, nodding. “You’re right, of course. I do tend to treat Edmund like he needs a keeper; he doesn’t. You are a lot younger than he is, though.”

“He doesn’t need a keeper; he needs you as a friend,” Owen said firmly, “and I think he’ll be happy with me… I think, regardless of our differences in age, that Edmund and I have a lot in common. It’s cliché, but age is just a number.” It was his turn to nod. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Chance.”

“Chance needs to butt out of my private affairs,” Edmund grumbled as he stalked back into the kitchen, John following after him looking sheepish. “It would’ve been nice if you’d let Owen tell me how he felt instead of marching in here and growling like a bear. Owen probably thinks I can’t even wipe my own arse.”

Edmund glared at his friend for another half second before throwing up his hands and saying, “I suppose you’re staying for dinner now? I can’t get rid of you?”

“Since we’re here,” Chance smiled evilly, “and we can hear about your adventures.”

Edmund blushed, hard. Owen was proud he didn’t falter, instead threatening to pummel Chance with a wooden spatula. “You are not asking one damn question about our trip. Isn’t it good enough we made it back in one piece? You have to know more?”

“I want to know the juicy details: lonely cabin?—”

John came up behind Chance and mock whispered in his ear, “If you don’t behave, there won’t be any dessert for you.”

Owen couldn’t help but laugh, watching Chance’s neck and face flush as Edmund chortled.

Dinner ended up being just fine, enjoyable even. Edmund put together a meal of stew he had in his freezer and homemade biscuits. As they listened to the two old friends give each other crap and tell stories from their youth, Owen and John shared several glances and raised eyebrows, laughing at the other two men.

Edmund absolutely refused to talk about going to Wenatchee, and it was clearly driving Chance crazy. Every time he tried to bring the trip up, Edmund managed to veer the conversation off in another direction, like the trail of broken hearts Chance had left behind him; Chance had been quite a player in his youth, and Edmund had a lot of tales about what he called “Chance’s lost-boys club.” Both Owen and John were in tears, they laughed so hard.

Edmund shook a finger at them. “It wasn’t funny. I had to console all these poor sad boys who’d never had a chance with Chance. And here I was, having to do their exit interviews instead of telling them what they wanted to hear.”

“Funny man, are you now? Just you wait, I’ll think of something ,” Chance grumbled. “Right, I remember now, library books.”

Edmund groaned and dropped his forehead to his hands. What the hell could be so bad about library books?

Chance turned to Owen. “He had them out for a year, longer than a year. Old Mrs. Berkshire, the librarian, finally stopped by on her way home. My mum invited her for tea, of course, and in the end, after the promise of a donation, Edmund got to keep the books.”

“What books were they?” Owen asked.

Edmund lifted his head to glare at Chance before answering, “You are a wanker.” To Owen he said, “ The Hitchhiker’s Guide and all the Patrick O’Brians I could lay my hands on. I was doing the library a favor by keeping the older copies.”

“Wasn’t there a copy of The Laird’s Luscious Lover or something like that?” Chance asked with a laugh.

“Romance is for everyone,” Edmund replied huffily, “and if I had to imagine Lady So-and-So was actually male, so what? All that ravishing going on…” He fanned himself.

Owen thought it was, well, adorable, that Edmund kept purloined copies of library books—but thought he’d wait until later to tell him so. As the evening dragged on, Owen found himself thinking about getting Edmund into bed. About hearing his moans of pleasure, about showing Edmund what Owen liked. He shifted in his seat to relieve the pressure on his dick, which thought a good ravishing sounded excellent. He tried thinking about work and the holiday party, but instead his brain kept returning to Edmund, to Edmund’s scent and his solid body. Edmund refilled his glass, and Owen took a thankful swig.

Finally, the unexpected guests said their goodbyes. John dragged Chance away before he could come up with any more inappropriate questions or tell any more stories. Edmund shut and locked the door behind them, leaning back against it dramatically as if a horde of marauders were waiting on the other side. “I thought they’d never leave!” he whispered.

“I don’t think they’re waiting on the other side of the door.” Quickly Owen stepped into the unfinished living room to peek out the front window. An SUV much like Edmund’s was pulling away from the curb. “Nope, they’re gone.”

Edmund sagged in relief. “Jesus, he’s a persistent arse.”

Owen moved in close to Edmund and pressed him against the door, chest to chest, belly to belly. He placed his hands on either side of Edmund’s head, trapping him. Edmund’s eyes widened, and his pupils expanded with what Owen hoped was desire.

“I for one am glad you had Chance at your back. But…” he leaned in to brush his lips across Edmund’s, loving how he shuddered against him, “I don’t want to talk about Chance anymore.”

“Um, what do you want to do?”

Owen pressed harder against Edmund so there would be no doubt what Owen wanted to do. “There’re dirty dishes that need taking care of.”

“Oh, right, the dishes.”

“Or,” Owen continued, “we could go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“ Mmm, and test out that big bed you’ve got. I bet it’s nicer than the one at the cabin. And…”

“And?” Edmund repeated breathlessly, his voice cracking.

“I found a box of condoms in your bathroom.”

Edmund blushed but maintained eye contact. Owen thought he probably didn’t realize he’d licked his lips. It was taking all his self-control to not strip Edmund’s clothes off where they stood.

“A man has to have hope,” Edmund replied.

Owen stared into Edmund’s beautiful eyes, noting the almost invisible specks of gray mixed in along with the shades of blue, giving his eyes the appearance of a kaleidoscope. “A man has to have hope.” He repeated Edmund’s words. “I want to kiss you now. I want to take all your clothes off and ravage you against the front door, to taste you and touch you all over until you’re a puddle.”

“Jesus Christ, Owen, I’m already a fecking puddle,” Edmund whispered, his body trembling.

“But… I want to do this right.” Stepping back and immediately missing Edmund’s warmth, Owen extended his hand. Edmund took it, and Owen led his man across the entryway and up the staircase to his bedroom.