Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(108)

“What happens in Iowa? Why can’t you stay here?” I take a step back, my feet pounding the pavement like a child. I’m embarrassed how it looks, but I’m so afraid of what this means. I’m losing Owen. I just got him, and already…he’s gone.

“My uncle lives there. My dad’s brother? He owns a print shop, and I’m going to work for him. I’ll be able to send some money to Mom, and I’ll be able to save for college. The shop isn’t much right now, but he says in a few years, he’ll leave it to me, retire. I…I could make that place into something maybe. There’s a great school there for Andrew, and he’ll be away from this…at least for a little while. When my mom gets settled, maybe if she’s able to find a place big enough, he’ll move back,” Owen says.

He’ll move back.

I keep my head to the side, my eyes piercing him, my nostrils flaring. Owen can’t say anything to take this feeling away, and the longer he stands there, his arms to his sides, his expression just as broken as my heart, the more I want to cry.

“I have a few weeks,” he says. “Tonight, let’s celebrate you. I don’t want to think about the other stuff anymore.” He steps to me in small movements, treating me like a deer caught in the sights of his gun. Owen…he’s the hunter. And I am dead, my heart broken and time no longer relevant.





Chapter 21





We haven’t talked about Iowa again. It’s coming. I can tell. Owen’s mom had a realtor to the house on Monday after school. I walked by them at the table on my way up to Owen’s room. Owen and me—we never mentioned it.

On Tuesday they told Andrew their plan. He’s about as happy about it as I am. I came over when they were sitting in the living room, after dinner. Andrew walked out in the middle of their talk saying, “I f*cking hate Iowa!”

We passed each other through the doorway; Andrew never looked at me.

I understand. I f*cking hate Iowa too.

Today, he’s packing his room. He’s been working on it a little at a time. Owen stayed late at school for a test, still catching up from the days he didn’t go. I’ve been here at his house…waiting for him. I’ve been stuck to him like glue, not wanting to miss a single second of the time we have left.

“Hey,” I say, leaning on Andrew’s doorway. He drops a book in a box and puts a lid on top, sliding it into a corner. “Seems like a waste of space. You should probably pack more in that box than just a book.” I’m trying to be light, but neither of us is feeling it.

“I shouldn’t be packing at all,” Andrew says, his mouth twists into a reluctant smile, his shoulders shrugging. I move into his room and sit down on his bed next to him.

“At least you’ll have family there. Owen says the school is really good,” I say, picking up one of his sweatshirts and folding it over my lap. I don’t believe a word that’s coming from my mouth.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Andrew teases, leaning into me. I put my arm around him and lay my head on his shoulder. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend. I want one of those…here…in Woodstock. I want to get my license, then pick a girl up and take her to the Miller Movie House. I want to go to the Apple Fest with her, and win one of those big, stupid stuffed bears.”

“We love those big, stupid stuffed bears,” I sigh. Andrew’s shoulder rises with a small laugh. “You’ll have all that in Iowa too,” I say.

“Yeah…” he says through a heavy sigh. “But it won’t be here.”

“Owen says you’ll get to move back; when your mom finds a place,” I say. Andrew leaves his eyes on mine, doubt all over his face.

When I hear the door downstairs, I squeeze Andrew once more and step out of his room. Owen meets me at the top of the stairs, his hand finding its comfortable place on my cheek, his lips finding home on mine.

“How’d you do?” I ask about his science test.

“Good, I think. Seemed easy,” he says. “Hey, I have to run up to the home. You want to come with me? I know how you love Grampa.”

I do love Gus. But more than that, I’m doing everything with Owen, up until the very last second. I don’t even care if it’s a trip to the grocery store for toothpaste—I’m making it.

I nod yes and thread my arm through Owen’s as we move back down the stairs. I watch Owen as we drive. I’ve been watching him a lot, watching how he looks at things. He’s been living his life, day-to-day, ever since he told me about his family’s plans. His eyes never pause or seem sad when he looks out at stuff; every day passes, just as it always did, as if these days aren’t coming to an end. The only times he gets sentimental are at night, when we’re alone. For a couple of evenings, he sat in his window, on the phone with me, and we listened to each other breathe. But for the last two nights, he’s come over around midnight, letting me sneak him upstairs before my mom gets home. I lock my door, not that she ever checks on me anyway, and he holds me while we both lie awake…not talking about Iowa.

Emma remembers me when we enter the home this time, and she nods toward Gus’s room, urging me to go on while she and Owen talk.

“He’s expecting you,” she says as I pass. We exchange smiles, and I think to myself how much she reminds me of my favorite book by the same name.