8
“It’s three a.m, O,” Tilly mumbled.
Owen stopped pacing the floor of her living room and looked at her.
She lay stretched out on her stomach on the sofa, eyes closed, sexy-scientist make-up smeared over her cheek and the cushion she was using as a pillow. Gripped loosely in her hand, her phone pinged with an incoming message.
No doubt from Mick. Or their mum.
Huffing out a choppy sigh, Owen started pacing again. “Not my fault you’re still having a conversation with the family,” he grumbled. “You started it. I told you not to tell them what happened, but you had to go and fill Mum in, and of course, she then had to get Mick’s medical opinion.”
“Shut up,” she rebuked into the cushion, voice muffled. “Be glad you have people who love you and care enough about you to be worried.”
Guilt stabbed at him, and he let out another sigh.
She was right.
He did have people who loved him, who cared enough about him to be worried. Mick and his mum were going out of their minds back in Australia, and Tilly had lectured him since he’d closed the door on Bria about the situation.
Although, the situation Tilly lectured him about also included his “cowardly” treatment of Bria. She’d jabbed his chest with her index finger on each syllable when she’d said the word cowardly. His chest still ached.
His head… It had calmed down completely. If it weren’t for all the drama from his family right now, there’d be no remaining evidence of Simon’s attack.
Wrong. The fact you aren’t with Bria right now…in her bed, in her…that’s some big bloody evidence right there.
Guilt had another go at him, and he dropped onto the edge of the sofa, narrowly missing Tilly’s side.
“Damn it,” he muttered, rubbing at his face.
Tilly’s phone pinged. Twice.
“Mum says you need to get on a plane and fly home right now,” she muttered, lifting her head just enough to read the newest text message on the screen. “Mick says you probably should go to a hospital if your head still hurts.”
“It doesn’t.”
She twisted on the sofa, fixing him with a level gaze. “No bullshit?”
“No bullshit. The only thing that hurts is my ego.”
Rolling her eyes, she grunted and maneuvered herself into a sitting position beside him. “Your ego can suffer the pain.”
“Thanks for the sibling support.” He twisted his lips and let out a shaky breath, studying the floor between his feet. What was Bria doing now? Had she gone back to the party? Damn it, he missed her already. Which wasn’t logical, given she’d hardly been in his life.
But when she had been… Fuck a duck, it had been the absolute best.
And you shoved her away. Now who’s the wanker?
“Are you really just going to sit and mope around my place for the rest of the night?” Tilly asked, tossing her phone on the coffee table. Clearly, she was done with trying to calm his mother and brother. “I mean, morning?”
Guilt poked at him again. Different guilt. Maybe he should grab his own mobile from the charger and give it a go himself.
Chicken.
It seemed so. On every damn level.
He gave Tilly an askew frown. “Why do I feel like you’re pissed at me?”
“I am pissed at you.”