𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 5.1k

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 when Owen arrived at the mall that afternoon. A warm breeze blew over the town, rustling perms and flapping plastic shopping bags. Owen easily picked up on the thick, earthy scent of nearby rain as she walked through the parking lot, as if the electricity was already humming in the air.

And not the sexual electricity that Steve liked to talk about — real electricity, lightning.

She hadn't even been at Scoops long enough to change into her uniform when Dustin ambushed her, shoving her back out into the mix of people again. "Dustin, seriously? Can't this wait?" Owen groaned, still lost on what he even needed her for.

"You're willing to just wait around when we have solid proof that the Russians have infiltrated Hawkins?"

Her head cocked as she pretended to consider it. "Uh, yeah. Pretty much."

Dustin's eyes rolled as he used his grip on her arm to lead her through the Food Court. "Some American hero you are..."

Owen intentionally dug her feet into the ground, tugging them to a stop and allowing the stubbornness at her core to win. "In case you forgot, I have an actual job that I need to be doing. American hero or not," she huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

But Dustin's expression was deadpan in response. "Owen, you're a mascot for a pirate-themed ice cream shop," he stated, mirroring her hands-on-hips stance. "They don't even expect you to scoop the ice cream, okay? Something tells me they'll survive without you there for an hour."

She would never admit it out loud, but the kid had a point. Children were going to beg their parents for ice cream whether she was there or not. Her teeth gritted as they began walking again, zig-zagging through the Food Court. Dustin, of course, led her straight to a large pot of decorative foliage, where none other than Steve Harrington was already waiting for them.

"Now, hold on, pretty boy here is supposed to be scooping ice cream," Owen pointed out, still kneeling beside him anyway. Her critical gaze made its way over to Dustin, demanding an explanation. "What's his excuse?"

"Aw, Webb... You think I'm pretty?" Steve teasingly cooed, smirking beneath his binoculars. Owen rolled her eyes, prepared to brush him off with a snarky comment, but Dustin beat her to it.

"Focus, Steve," he snapped. "You see anything?"

Steve continued surveying the Food Court's population, binoculars drifting over each and every visible occupant. "Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for," he admitted.

"Evil Russians." Dustin said it like it was obvious, like Steve should be able to detect an evil Russian a mile away.

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like," Steve huffed.

"Tall, blonde, not smiling," Dustin rattled off, matter-of-factly.

Steve lowered the binoculars, turning towards Owen with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Owen's right here," he jokingly pointed out, the comment even making Dustin chuckle. But Owen just rammed her elbow into Steve's side, not even sparing a glance his way.

"Very funny," she muttered, sarcastically. Her stone-cold expression didn't have any effect on the boys' chortling on either side of her; if anything, it just made them laugh harder.

"Well, you can also look for earpieces, camo, duffle bags... that sort of thing," Dustin added amidst chuckles, for further clarification.

"Right, okay, duffle bags..." Steve nodded, clocking back into binocular duty. But just a moment later, he paused, jaw dropping at whatever he was seeing through the lenses. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," he murmured under his breath. His gobsmacked tone of voice caught Owen and Dustin's attention immediately, certain that he had spotted some Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike perusing the mall.

"What is it?"

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky," he gossiped, causing the other two to visibly deflate. "Aw, Jesus Christ... Whatever happened to standards? I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench."

But while Steve was bitching and moaning about Anna Jacobi's flavor of the week, Owen spotted a familiar face across the Food Court. Frank Park and his brassy blonde highlights were leaning against one of the sturdy pillars framing the room. But he wasn't alone and he wasn't with Law.

No, Frank was talking to a girl! A real girl! And from what she could tell, a pretty girl! But she was going to need a closer look to confirm that last bit.

"Holy shit!" Owen gasped, her mouth falling open. "Steve, give me the binoculars!"

"What? No. I'm kind of busy here."

Her eyes still focused on Frank and this unfamiliar girl, Owen tapped urgently on Steve's arm, an open palm waiting for him to hand them over. "I just need them for a second." But he just stretched further out of her grasp, not exactly ready to stop snooping on Jacobi and Lewinsky's conversation.

Once she allowed her gaze to snap away from Frank and his friend, she easily reached over and snagged the binoculars out of Steve's hands. But in the scramble to secure them, Owen didn't consider the fact that they looped around his neck, and in dragging the magnifying lenses closer to her face, Steve was dragged right along with them.

Owen released a barely audible gasp at the unexpected proximity, a small sound that gave away her heart stuttering within her chest. If she weren't so close, she likely would have missed the way his pupils dilated, the shift usually indiscernible with the black-on-brown combination. That had to mean something, right? She was pretty sure that she had read about that being a telltale sign of attraction in Cosmo once.

Whether it was true or not, the minute his eyes flickered down towards her lips, Owen instinctively directed her attention elsewhere. But she almost instantly began kicking herself for reacting that way every single time Steve even so much as looked at her affectionately.

Was this how it was going to be forever? Was she never going to have her first kiss because she turned and ran every single time someone displayed interest in her?

Because on more than one occasion, Steve had shown that he was pretty clearly into her, at least on some level. So, why couldn't she just let herself indulge in that feeling of being attractive for once in her goddamn life? It didn't take much introspection to notice that it was starting to become self-destructive, in a way.

Owen lifted the binoculars to her eyes, hoping that they at least covered some of the color burning in her cheeks. Not that it really mattered; Steve was still so close that she could feel his breath fanning across her neck, making goosebumps wash over her skin.

Owen bit the inside of her cheek and tried to focus on finding Frank again through the lenses. The task made ignoring Steve's presence a bit easier, at least. 

"What're you looking for?" Dustin piped up. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Steve finally drawing his stare away from her profile, like the sound of their kid friend's voice reminded him where they were and what they were doing.

"My brother's friend, Frank," she replied, hearing the way he groaned dramatically. "I saw him talking to a girl."

"You guys are seriously the worst spies in history, you know that?" Dustin fumed.

"That's too bad. I guess we should consider a different career path, Harrington," Owen muttered, her sarcasm making Steve snort.

Through the lenses of the binoculars, she caught sight of her younger brother joining Frank and the nameless girl, presenting her with the perfect chance to be nosy in a socially-acceptable way. Now, all she needed to do was come up with some bullshit reason to talk to Law and then she would be able to get some information on this new addition to his miniscule friend group.

"Be right back," Owen announced, shoving the binoculars back into Steve's hands and taking off through the food court. Dustin let out a defeated sigh as she scampered away from their hiding spot and through the crowd of people.

However, he snatched the binoculars right back out of Steve's hands the moment she was gone, now aware that he was only going to use them for nefarious purposes. This time, Steve slid the strap from around his neck, having learned his lesson about that.

"I don't even know why you're looking at girls, anyway. You have the perfect one right in front of you," Dustin said in a chiding tone.

"Seriously, dude... If you say Robin-"

"Not Robin." Dustin tore his eyes away from the binoculars to give Steve a look. "I'm talking about Owen."

Instead of following his first instinct and allowing his eyes to bulge out of his skull, Steve managed to roll them, instead. He even scoffed for good measure! Just so Dustin would feel extra silly for bringing up such a preposterous idea.

"Oh, c'mon, man. Owen? Yeah, right," he said, dismissively.

Was this kid onto him? Steve really thought he had done a pretty good job at concealing his crush up to this point. But now, he was starting to really question that belief. Because if Dustin had picked up on his feelings for Owen, then she probably had too! That would totally explain why she ditched him that night at his pool and-

"Yeah, Owen," Dustin reiterated, copying Steve's cadence. "You guys already hang out all the time, anyway. Would it really be such a bad idea?"

Steve blew out a stream of hot air, shaking his head. "We hang out all the time because we are friends. Okay? That's all. Just friends," he emphasized. "Besides, she's not even my type. She's not even... in the ballpark of what my type is, alright?"

And while that was partially true, the words still felt sour and dishonest on his tongue. Owen was certainly not like any of the girls Steve had dated before, but he had come to realize that that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

She was smart, brutally honest, fearless to a fault, cool as fuck, and... he just liked being around her. And even though she was also devastatingly, heartachingly beautiful, the thought of pouring his heart out to her and potentially scaring her away terrified him. Because Steve was pretty sure that he would rather spend the rest of his life pining after her up close than mourning the loss of her in his life.

"Oh, yeah? And what's your type again? Not awesome?"

Steve's lips pursed. "Thank you," he gritted, sarcastically.

"Look, she pretty clearly doesn't hate you... anymore. Which is saying a lot for Owen!" he noted. Steve sighed, fully aware that this wasn't a rock-solid piece of evidence in his favor. "All I'm saying is, her being interested in you may not be as far fetched as you're making it sound."

Steve's eyes drifted to where Owen stood, talking to her brother and his friends, and he felt his gaze soften at the sight of her. Thankfully, Dustin was too busy scoping the area for evil Russians to notice. Still, the tiny, optimistic side of himself hoped that what Dustin said was true, that he may still have a chance with Owen after all.

"I guess I just don't want to see you all sad and alone anymore, Steve," he went on, making Steve's face scrunch up in confusion.

"Sad and alone? Who said I was sad and alone?"

"I can just tell," Dustin said, pitifully. "You deserve to date someone who you actually enjoy being around. Like me and Suzie."

"Oh, Suzie. Yeah, you mean 'hotter than Phoebe Cates'. Yeah, that Suzie," Steve said with a mocking tone. "And, uh, let's think about how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend?" He scratched his head, pretending to really think about it. "Oh yeah! With my advice. Because that's how this works, Henderson. I give you the advice, you follow through. Not the other way around, alright, pea-brain?"

Even with Steve griping right in his ear, Dustin was too distracted to register the insulting nickname. Because unlike his good-for-nothing counterparts, he had actually spotted what looked to be an authentic evil Russian. Long blonde hair, wearing all black, and carrying a duffle bag. The evil Russian poster child, if you will.

"Target acquired," he declared.

"What? Where?"

"Ten o'clock, Sam Goody's."

"Give me that," Steve demanded, grabbing the binoculars in order to catch a glimpse at their culprit. Sure enough, he easily spotted the man and his dark clothes amidst the sea of colorful garb that saturated the mall. "Shit... He's even got a duffle bag."

The boys turned to one another, their determined expressions mirroring each other. "Evil Russian," they said in agreement.

Steve and Dustin were quick to desert their potted plant hideout, following the man through the food court. By way of Owen and her brothers' friends, of course. Steve wordlessly snagged her by the elbow, dragging her along with them.

"What the hell is-" Her reprimanding was cut short by Steve shushing her, his index finger pressed to his lips. "What the hell is wrong with you? I was in the middle of a conversation," she continued, lowering her voice to a biting whisper, instead.

"Evil Russian," Steve stated, pointing towards the head of blonde hair and hefty duffle bag weaving through the crowd. Owen's eyes widened, shocked at the textbook nature of the man's appearance — tall, blonde, not smiling. He was exactly how Dustin had described an evil Russian!

The pure shock coursing through her body was the only thing keeping her mouth shut as they followed the man through the mall. Up the escalator, past storefronts, through the neon-colored corridors. But Steve was becoming antsy, his pace quickening subconsciously.

"Slow down," Dustin puffed, doing his best to keep up.

"We're losin' him," Steve insisted, shoving in between groups of mall goers.

"But you're getting too close!" Dustin whisper-yelled.

He had barely gotten the words out when Steve accidentally slammed into some guy's shoulder. The man recoiled, irritation written across his face as he shouted, "Watch it, dickwad!"

Uh oh. That was loud.

Owen felt a tingle creep along the skin of her arms, goosebumps raising each of the fine hairs there. "Hide... Hide!" she hissed. Just before the alleged evil Russian turned around and spotted them, Owen grabbed Steve and pulled him backwards with her.

Her back slammed against the glass of a store front, her hands clutching the bright blue fabric that covered his chest. Steve's palms pressed to the wall behind her, catching himself before they fully collided with each other. Even with his speedy reflexes, his face hovered just inches away from hers, their breath mixing in the air between them.

Behind the cover of a fake fern tree, the pair just looked like a young couple, unable to keep their hands off of each other for two seconds. And as Owen had come to learn, that was a pretty common sight around the Starcourt Mall. It was the perfect way to hide in plain sight.

"You know, you've gotten better with that sixth sense of yours," Steve murmured, his voice coming out breathier than he anticipated.

Owen grinned up at him, eyes twinkling playfully. "Well, I have been practicing."

Steve's brow quirked, along with the corner of his lips. "Oh yeah?" he shot back, teasingly.

Before she could even hum out a response, Dustin was smacking Steve's back and breaking the two out of their little moment. "C'mon, c'mon. He's getting away," Dustin urged. Owen and Steve were quick to detangle from one another, but his hand still instinctively wrapped around hers, tugging her alongside him.

Wouldn't want her getting lost in the crowd, after all...

The three of them followed him all the way to the Jazzercise studio on the top floor. Hidden just behind one of the mall's lit-up maps, they peered around the edge, keeping an eye on the man as he stepped over yoga mats and in between women in various-colored body suits.

"Alright, everyone! Listen up!" The man shouted as he made his way to the front of the room. Steve, Owen, and Dustin all fearfully watched on, unsure what his next move would be. "I just have one question for you. Who"—the highly suspicious duffle bag was zipped open to reveal a large boombox—"is ready to sweat?"

All the women in the jazzercise class cheered and hollered as the man — not an evil Russian — cranked up a song by Wham! and began stripping off all the black clothes he had on. Beneath them all, he was wearing workout attire in a similar, brightly-colored palette.

Owen stepped out of hiding, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at the boys. However, Dustin was still reeling from being totally and completely wrong, and Steve was far too busy ogling the ladies in their form-fitting workout gear to notice.

"Robin's right. You are both total dinguses!" Owen threw her hands up in defeat. "That man isn't an evil Russian at all! He is a jazzercise instructor. Which means that this was a complete waste of my time."

She brushed past the boys, retracing their steps back to Scoops Ahoy. Shaking themselves from their simultaneous dazes, Dustin and Steve hurried to catch up with her. "You have to admit, he really did look like an evil Russian," Dustin insisted.

Her eyes rolled at the comment. "Maybe if this was a movie," she shot back. "But I'm pretty sure this is just like your little Russian code. If they're not going to state anything in stupidly obvious terms, then why the hell would all of their workers look like that guy? I mean, if a group of teenagers could pick him out of a crowd, then where is the subtlety?"

Dustin's upper lip curled, not exactly sure when Owen had become the face of realism and logical thinking. He hated that he knew she was right. He even refused to admit it out loud as they wandered back to Scoops, their tails between their legs.

"Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve boldly announced, mere steps into the ice cream shop.

"You did too!" Dustin argued.

"No, I did not."

"Yes, you did!"

Robin wasn't even listening to their pointless argument as she shoved in between the boys, running out of the shop into the mall's concourse. Owen glanced up at Steve, their eyebrows furrowed in response to her strange behavior. Regardless of the deserted front counter at Scoops, the group didn't hesitate to spin on their heels and follow her, in need of some explanation.

When they found Robin, she was standing on the edge of the large center fountain, haphazardly spinning in every direction and mumbling to herself. Multiple pairs of eyes were on her, trying to make sense of what she was doing.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Steve questioned.

She looked down at her group of friends, her eyes a little wild. "I cracked it," she stated.

"Cracked what?" he asked, entirely lost.

Robin jumped back down, bringing her eyes level with the others'. Her plum-tinted lips curved into a smile, a proud smile.

"I cracked the code."

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

    Steve Harrington had to be one of the most ill-prepared human beings on Earth. And Owen fell for it every single time, begrudgingly supplying him with whatever he needed while she scolded him. His forgetfulness typically manifested itself in a textbook left at home, or having to run back inside to grab his car keys.

However... His latest offense?

Steve forgot to bring a rain jacket on the day of Hawkins' largest torrential downpour in years. As Owen made sure to tell him, the weather channel had been predicting this massive thunderstorm for over a week now. But even if he didn't casually tune in to the local news, a mere glance up at the sky that morning would have told him everything he needed to know.

And normally, this wouldn't have been that big of a deal. Sure, his hair would've gotten messed up on the run out to his car after work, but he would be fine.

But after Robin had given them the rundown on the Russians' secret code, Dustin's impatience had landed them on the roof of the mall that night, spying in the pouring rain. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked overhead, sending quick flashes of light over the nosy group of teenagers trying to catch a glimpse of some mysterious shipment mentioned in the message Robin decoded.

Meanwhile, Owen was pressed as close to Steve as she could possibly get, doing her best to share her rain jacket and shield him from the pelting water droplets. She wasn't doing an excellent job, though, which only resulted in both of them being soaking wet.

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes," Robin instructed, basically having to shout over the storm. Trying to keep an eye out, Owen reached up and shoved dripping strands of hair out of her face with her free hand. But Dustin was a much better look-out with his binoculars.

"They're with that whistling guy! Ten o'clock," he pointed out. How he managed to even hear the whistling was enough to impress Owen.

"What do you think's in there?" Steve mused.

Dustin shrugged. "Guns? Bombs?"

"Chemical weapons?" Robin chimed in.

"Whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth," Dustin concluded after trying and failing to count all the firepower the guards were carrying.

"Great... That's great," Steve muttered, sarcastically. An especially loud clap of thunder made Owen flinch beneath her raincoat, the jolt of movement against his side catching Steve's attention. He glanced sideways at her, watching a drop of water trickle along the edge of her nose.

"Hey! What's in there?" Robin blurted, refocusing Steve's attention onto the task at hand.

One of the guards had opened the large, metal door that they were all protecting. The room's interior was lined with boxes identical to the ones being delivered. But other than the boxes and the shelves they were sitting on, the room looked monotonous and incredibly boring.

"It's just more boxes," Dustin sighed.

Seemingly unconvinced by the boy's assessment, Steve reached over and tried to snag the binoculars from his hands. "Let me check it out." But Dustin wasn't easily swayed, forcibly removing Steve's hands from the magnifying lenses.

"No, I'm still looking."

"Just lemme see it," Steve demanded, grabbing the binoculars again and trying to yank them from Dustin's hands. It was a fight he won rather easily, but only after accidentally slamming the binoculars into the concrete edge of the building when Dustin let go of them. The thudding noise was so loud that it managed to catch the attention of the men guarding the door, their trained eyes snapping towards the top of the building.

"Duck!" Dustin hissed. A shiver wracked Owen's spine as she and the others dipped below the edge of the roof, just out of sight.

Her chest was rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths as her mind began to work through all the terrible things that could happen if those guards caught them up there. But at the same time, she was going through the list of attacks she could execute with her abilities, her eyes darting around the rooftop for anything she could use. She had been practicing, sure. But she hadn't actually fought anyone since that night at the Byers' house.

Steve still managed to be observant, even in the face of imminent danger. And he couldn't help but notice the concern written all over Owen's face. In some attempt to comfort her, his hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers tenderly lacing with hers.

At first, she didn't even acknowledge the gentle touch. She didn't look his way and he didn't look in hers. But he still kept his hand there, holding her stiff palm until she told him to back off or something.

But she didn't.

Instead, her fingers softened momentarily before interlocking with his. And normally, his face would have broken out in a warm grin, elated that she was returning his affection for once. But the tightness in Owen's grip told Steve just how terrified she was and he knew he would have to save his excitement for later.

Because right now, he needed to get them out of there alive.

"C'mon. Let's get the hell out of here," Steve murmured, sitting up and pulling Owen along with him. Dustin and Robin followed along as Steve led them through the door in which they came.

They had crept down exactly one flight of stairs when they heard another pair of squeaky footsteps in the stairwell. Steve's wide eyes turned and met Owen's, trying to decide the next best move in the seconds before they were caught. Silently, she cocked her head towards the door behind him, not sure where it went, but safely assuming that it was better than being captured by evil Russians.

Steve nodded in understanding, only letting go of her hand to open the door and allow the rest of his group to scurry through. Luckily, the mystery door led them into one of the long, plain hallways that connected each store in the mall. The sound of their heavy breathing echoed across every wall of the corridor, along with the drops of water trailing on the floor behind them.

"Well, I think we found your Russians," Robin said, sending a quick look over at Dustin.

A crack of lightning rattled the walls around them as Owen's steps stuttered to a halt. A shot of blinding pain fired outwards from the base of her skull, causing her hand to fly up and clutch the back of her neck.

"Shit..." she gasped. The horrible stabbing sensation almost immediately flared up behind her eyes, practically forcing her to screw them shut.

Just behind her eyelids, Owen was able to make out quick flashes of an image, something recognizable flickering at the front of her mind. She did her best to focus, to make out the figure being framed by the sparkles of light swirling in her vision. Deep-rooted aches had settled in her temples, digging into the front of her brain, when she was able to make out what exactly she was seeing.

She would know that god-awful mullet anywhere.

But seeing Billy Hargrove in that dark void that belonged to the deepest recesses of Owen's mind was unexpected. She had never seen anyone else there before. She had gotten used to the payphone and the raspy voice that spoke through it, but even that hadn't happened in a long time.

Billy's back had been turned to her originally, but as soon as she noticed it was him, it was like he suddenly knew that she was there, too. Slowly, he turned to face her, his cold eyes staring right at her, like he could see her. His awareness put a crack in Owen's focus, making the image flicker again.

This time, the flickering darted between two versions of Billy. One cold and apathetic, and the other, sobbing and screaming in horror.

Although Owen typically knew Billy to be crass and disagreeable, she couldn't help but feel like the second image of him was the most realistic, like she was seeing beneath a veil of some kind. The sinking feeling in her gut was the final nail in the coffin, causing the vision to dissipate completely as she blinked her eyes open again.

"Owen, what the hell? Are you okay?" Robin's voice, all high-pitched and worried, was the first thing that she heard once her consciousness returned to the real world.

"M-Maybe she had a seizure!" Dustin blurted, pretending as though he didn't immediately recognize the mixture of Owen's headache, bloody nose, and clocked-out expression.

"Do people typically have nosebleeds when they have seizures?" Robin stressed.

While Dustin and Robin deliberated over the symptoms of a seizure, Steve was the first to notice the way Owen swayed after trying to take another step further into the hallway. He was also the first to leap forward in an attempt to steady her, one of his arms winding around her back. She slumped tiredly against his side, leaning most of her body weight into him.

"I don't need... I can walk just fine on my own," Owen insisted, despite the sluggish blinks of her eyes and the way her words slurred together. Good to know that her stubbornness is still perfectly intact, Steve thought to himself.

"Who said I was doing this for you?" Steve quipped. "Maybe I just need a little support after that near run-in with the evil Russian. You ever consider that?" His fingers tightened against the curve of her waist as she lazily smiled up at him, wet hair sticking to the edges of her face. And he smiled back at her because they both knew that wasn't true.

By the time the group got back to Scoops, Owen was already looking much better. Still, Steve got a chair for her and instructed Robin to bring her a bowl of cherries ASAP. The moment she was out of the room, he and Dustin crowded around Owen, desperate to know what had happened in the hallway.

"Something's wrong..." she shakily breathed, looking up from the pastel-colored tiles beneath them. "Something's wrong with Billy."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together, upper lip curling subconsciously. "Billy? Like, Billy Hargrove?" He felt a shameful wave of jealousy roll through him, hating to even hear his name on her lips like that, all fretful and breathy. But Steve knew better than to react that way, aware that Owen was only concerned for him as one human being to another. She hated Billy just as much as he did, perhaps even more.

Owen nodded, her lips pursing. "Well, what's wrong with him?" Dustin questioned. She shrugged in response, unable to have picked up on any real clues when Billy was in the void like that. The setting prevented her from picking up on his location, who he was with, and any other details. "Well, shit..." Dustin muttered, his hands on his hips.

"Cherries! I've got cherries!" Robin exclaimed, bursting through the door with a paper bowl overflowing with the sugary, unnaturally red fruit. She even thought to bring a wet paper towel to clean the dried blood from Owen's upper lip.

And although she looked better, the horrified expression on Billy's face was seared behind her eyelids, playing on repeat in the front of her mind. Even though she hated to admit it, she knew that she needed to put aside her feelings about him and make sure he was alright.

Or maybe... get someone else to make sure he was alright.