Owen followed her down the stairs, wondering what on earth was going on, and yet at the same time realising, to his own shame and weakness, he was glad to see her. Really glad.
“So you’re leaving tomorrow, Ava said,” she said flatly, her back to him as she walked towards the sofa.
“Yes.”
She whirled around, one hand on the back of the sofa to steady herself. “Where are you going?”
“London, I think. I have a mate who says there might be construction work for me there.”
“Construction work?” She sounded disbelieving, and Owen tried not to flinch.
“I need a job.”
“Have you worked in construction before?”
“No, but I’ve got a strong back and willing hands.”
She shook her head slowly. “Where will you live?”
He shrugged. “Sofa surf for a bit, I suppose, until I can get my own place.”
“Sofa surf?” Now she sounded even more disbelieving. “Owen, is that really what you want?”
Of course it wasn’t. How could she think that for a minute? A second? He just shrugged, because he had no real response, at least not one he was willing to give.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, and now her voice sounded quiet and intense, and that made him squirm inside. He didn’t want to have this conversation, this reckoning, and yet he knew Emily deserved it. She deserved more of an answer than he’d given her so far.
“I told you before. I’m not in a place to be in a relationship.” Even now, when he knew she deserved more, he prevaricated. He just couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to have to admit his failings, and yet he sensed from Emily’s quiet tone, the determined tilt to her chin, that he would have to. She would make him.
“Why not?” Emily asked baldly. “Why is running away to London better than staying here and fighting for something? For us?” The words rang out, wobbled, and fell to the floor. Owen looked away. “Don’t I deserve an answer, Owen?” Emily asked, her voice softening. “I know we weren’t—we weren’t together for very long, but it felt important to me.”
“It was important to me too,” Owen couldn’t help but say. She deserved that much. She deserved so much more.
“Then why are you willing to throw it away at the first hurdle?” Emily asked, her voice breaking right in half. “Don’t you think we’re worth more, Owen? What we had? Because I do.”
“It’s not that simple…”
“But it can be, surely? If we let it? I know you don’t have the pub anymore, and you feel like you can’t offer me something. I don’t even know what.” The words were coming faster, tumbling out of her so Owen couldn’t interrupt, even though he wanted to. He wanted her to stop listing his weaknesses. His failures. “But I didn’t fall in love with you because of your job, Owen, or your bank account. I don’t care about those.”
He blinked. “Fall in…”
“Yes, I’ve fallen in love with you,” Emily declared recklessly. “Or maybe I’m in the process of it, I don’t know. When is it complete? Does it last your whole life? Because I want to keep doing it, if you’ll just let me. If you’ll give us a chance.” She paused, her lips trembling. “If you’re falling in love with me.”
Owen let out a groan as he sank onto the sofa, his head in his hands. “It really isn’t that simple.”
“Then tell me why not.”
There was no other choice now, he knew, not when Emily had been so honest and vulnerable. Not when she’d told him she loved him.
“Because I can’t bear letting you down,” he said heavily. “And I know I will.”
“You’re letting me down now, Owen, by walking away from me. Nothing could be worse than that.”
He lifted his head to gaze at her bleakly. “Are you sure about that?”
*
Emily registered the grim, despairing look on Owen’s face and swallowed hard.
“Yes.” At least she wanted to be sure, although she felt, just by looking at Owen’s face, that she was going to have to steel herself for whatever came next. “I am,” she added for good measure.
Owen let out another heavy sigh. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“The only way you’ve hurt me is by walking away,” Emily stated quietly. “I really do mean that, Owen. No matter what you tell me now.” She did believe that. At least she hoped she believed it. What could he possibly say that would change her mind? That would be so terrible? She couldn’t think of anything, and yet the look on Owen’s face made her wonder.
He didn’t reply and Emily went to sit beside him on the sofa. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
“You’ve been strong for me,” she said. “Let me be strong for you.”
Owen was silent for a long moment. Then he said, his voice strangely flat, “I tried to save you, Emily, because I couldn’t save anyone else.”
Emily stiffened at that admission as she remembered Ava’s words—you can’t save anyone, you can only believe they’re worth saving. “Who couldn’t you save, Owen?” she asked gently.
“My mother. My father. My sisters.”
“How…?”
He drew a shuddering breath. “I told you my father was a drunk. He could be a happy drunk, the life of the party, and so much fun to be around…until he drank too much, and then he turned mean. Really mean.” Emily waited, her hand in his, knowing there was nothing she could say. What she needed to do now was listen.
“When he was mean,” Owen said, the words carefully distinct, “he hit my mother.” Emily couldn’t keep herself from giving a soft gasp of distress. “I started to realise when I was around twelve. And I didn’t do anything about it until I was sixteen. I was too scared of him.”
“You were a child, Owen.”
“At thirteen I was tall as he was.
