The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 170

“You already called me. Why can’t you just say whatever it is over the phone?” Petty couldn’t stand how Owen always made a scene.

“I want to tell you in person.”

Petty let out a sigh. She held her phone in one hand and went to unbuckle her seatbelt with the other.

A hand covered in a black glove stopped her and pressed gently but firmly on her wrist.

Petty paused for a second, her eyes meeting Malcom’s, deep and dark brown, almost unreadable.

She knew he was just worried. If Malcom hadn’t shown up at the bridge that night, who knows what could have happened.

She smiled. “It’s just Owen. We grew up together. He might be annoying, but he’d never hurt me.”

The call wasn’t disconnected. Every word of her easy trust reached Owen, sitting in the car across from her.

He gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles went pale. He closed his eyes for a moment, then hung up.

Petty stepped out of the car. Owen stayed put. She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. It was freezing, so she hurried over.

Finally, Owen got out.

He had a lit cigarette between his fingers and wore nothing but a thin black sweater. His other hand was stuffed in his pocket, as if he thought he was posing for a magazine.

Petty didn’t even bother to look at him. “Just say what you want and make it quick.”

“What’s up with all the bodyguards?” Owen glanced at the people behind her.

He smelled strongly of smoke, and his eyes were red and tired. He looked seriously worn out, and Petty wondered what he’d been doing.

She frowned, but answered anyway. “I got myself some enemies.”

“Let me guess... it’s that stupid job again and you pissed off the wrong people, didn’t you?”

Now, that ticked Petty off. He could say her job was dangerous, sure. He could say she was way in over her head. But calling it a stupid job? That crossed the line.

“If you came just to insult me, you can leave.”

Owen’s jaw tightened. He took a sharp drag from his smoke, then yanked it from his mouth and crushed it on the ground, scattering sparks.

“Petty, sometimes I swear you just have a death wish.”

But she never took his gifts.

“I don’t want it,” Petty said, her voice flat.

Owen grabbed her hand and shoved the box into it, not giving her a choice. “It’s a bracelet. I spent ages picking it out. If you throw it away, I’m coming after you.”

As soon as he said that, Petty looked like she was about to toss it. Owen shot her a hard look.

But she was only pretending. In one smooth motion, she tossed the box into his car, landing it perfectly on the driver’s seat.

“I don’t want your present. You stink like smoke. Go home and take a shower.”

She turned and headed back to Malcom’s car.

Suddenly, Owen caught her wrist and stepped in front of her, frustrated and a little desperate. “Remember your eighteenth birthday? Franco was with you. You picked the place. He gave you some stupid little clay figure and you acted like it was the world’s greatest treasure. I give you real gifts, and you won’t even look at them.”

All of a sudden, Owen felt a cold, sharp stare on him. He glanced up but saw nothing there.

That split second of distraction was all Petty needed. She pulled her arm free, face sour and annoyed. “What’s it got to do with you? Back then, that made me happy. That’s all.”