Seattle Move

20. Another New Beginning

Had she made a mistake? Had she truly accepted that connection could be so momentary?

"Amelia?" Meredith called as the neurosurgeon rushed into the house, "You're home earlier than I expected."

"It was just a small meet up," Amelia lied. She'd left Dean in confusion, reeling to find out what had caused her sudden shift in aura, and unexpected departure. "Where's the mail from the last few days?"

"It's right there," Meredith answered, pointing to a stack of envelopes, "I didn't think you'd be receiving anything."

"Neither did I," she answered, going to the mail and flipping through it. There, amidst the stack of envelopes, was the letter Owen claimed he'd sent her. It had arrived two weeks ago.

"Thanks," Amelia mindlessly said as she drifted through the living room to the deck, already tearing the letter open. By the time she got outside and sat on the steps, the letter was completely unfolded.

Dear Amelia,

I hesitated to write this letter, let alone send it, as I know I've done more than my share of wrongs. So many times, I've imposed myself on your life and now that I'm miles away, I find the silence between us louder than I ever imagined.

I've been thinking about my past, how it shadows every aspect of who I am today. My marriage to Cristina was intense and beautiful but ended in devastation. My wrong decision led to a plane crash, taking Lexie and Mark—two friends I couldn't save. It haunts me in the quiet of night, reminding me of the fragility of life and the responsibility that comes with being a leader.

Then, you came into my life, unexpectedly. I didn't ask for you; I didn't plan this, but now I can't imagine it any other way. With every conversation we had, you managed to stitch a sliver of light back into my existence. There's a warmth about you, Amelia, a spark that ignites and transforms everything around you. The moments we shared have changed me—maybe not completely healed me, but kept me afloat when I could've sunk.

I find myself thinking about the way you laugh, the way Ryan's eyes light up with yours, and how you juggle everything while still holding space for affection. It's been so long since someone found their way past my defences, and I can feel myself letting you in more than I initially intended. I'm sorry I've never told you this.

Yet, the closer I get to you, the more terrified I become. I don't want to subject you to my past—my doubts, my scars. I can't shake the feeling that I'll let you down again, just as I've let others down before.

But the more I think about you, the more I realize that I have fallen for you. It snuck up on me, until I couldn't deny it any longer. I know I shouldn't feel this way; I shouldn't want you to take on the burden of me.

I'm not asking for anything, Amelia. Just know that you and Ryan have altered my perception of what's worth holding onto. I think you are worth the risk. All I fear is that you see me for the broken pieces I carry rather than what I could become if only I believed in myself.

Take care of yourself, and remember: you've made a difference in my life, even if I don't say it often enough.

Owen.

The vulnerability laid bare before her shattered the doubts that had swirled within her heart. Though uncertain, Owen had reached out—he had chosen to allow her insight into the unfiltered corners of his mind.

Amelia's heart raced as she absorbed his words. The raw honesty poured from the page, each sentence unraveling the knotty mess of feelings that had plagued her. As she finished, she noticed the soft glow of the evening settling over Owen's trailer parked just across the lawn.

The lights were on. He was home.

She nearly dropped the letter as she looked, her heart racing once again. Owen stood across the lawn, framed against the backdrop of the trailer. The very notion sent shivers down her spine, a mix of dread and excitement swirling together.

Amelia took a deep breath, her mind racing. This was the moment—the culmination of weeks of longing, insecurity, and the question of whether they could truly make it work. Their connection was magnetic, but it was also fraught with the dangers of miscommunication and fear of commitment. She needed to confront her own feelings, whether they led to reconciliation or the courage to let go once and for all.

The air between them felt electric, and as she approached, Owen's eyes met hers, bright and hopeful, yet tinged with uncertainty.

"Did you read it?" he asked softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

She nodded, unable to find words in the whirl of emotions.

"I'm... I'm seeing someone," she finally said. She didn't want to, didn't want to tear the delicate thread between them with her admission, but the truth was better than lingering in the hypothetical.

He cocked his head, studying every feature of her face, every flicker of hesitation. "And how is that going?"

"It's going good," she muttered, "Great, actually."

"I don't think it'll last long," he said, scratching his chin. "Not because of him, but because..." He paused, searching her eyes. "I know what I want now."

The words floated before her, breathing life into the aching void between them. Suddenly, the past few weeks evaporated in the warmth of his gaze, and she felt the solace she craved.

She looked up at him, her voice trembling. "Why did you only send one letter?"

"I wrote a lot of letters, I only sent one." He paused, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Besides, I wanted to see you in person to discuss all of this." She felt herself flush, uncomfortable beneath his gaze. Owen leaned closer, testing the waters while drawing out the tension. "You know, I sensed that maybe you were falling for me too," he whispered.

Amelia recoiled slightly; the heat of their past washed over her, battling with a fresh wave of resistance. "I'm not falling for you, Owen."

"Really?" he countered, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. "So, have you slept with that other guy as yet?" The silence stretched between them, her heart thundered in her chest; she could feel the weight of his question pressing down. Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but only crickets and the whisper of the wind filled the space. She rolled her eyes and averted her gaze, and Owen's smirk deepened, eyes flashing with a playful light. "Let me guess: you're not sure yet?"

"It's not like that," she protested, her cheeks warming. "I mean, it's new. It's just—"

"Just what?" Owen pressed, closing the distance between them, "I've never seen you get performance anxiety."

At first, she wanted to snap back at him, push this light-hearted teasing off as arrogance. But as she felt her desire to hide her truth diminish under the intensity of his gaze, she faltered. There was something magnetic about the way he challenged her, demanding honesty even when she wasn't ready to face it herself.

"Amelia?" he teased, his voice lower now, laced with a knowing tone. "I think you're still attracted to me. And we both know it's only a matter of time before you come looking for this again." He gestured between them.

"I like him," she replied, firm but lacking conviction.

"I'm sure you do," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

With those words lingering between them, the battlefield of unspoken confessions was laid bare. Amelia stood in the twilight, the warmth of Owen so close yet so rife with tension, her heart caught in a snare. Underneath the stars, the swirling currents of their past, and the flickering hope of a future together danced around them, threatening to pull her back to where it all began—a place where love was complex, fiery, and alive.