Seattle Move

22. Moving Again

Today was moving day. She should have been excited, yet a haze of anxiety muffled her joy.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for him a little longer?" Maggie asked, lifting a half-open box labeled 'kitchen' as if it weighed the weight of Amelia's doubts.

"He should've been here by now." Amelia's voice emerged as a fragile whisper. She had counted on Dean to anchor this chaotic day, to balance the unsettling emotions that churned within her. But now, as time slipped away and Dean remained unresponsive, her optimism waned.

"Maybe something came up?" Meredith chimed in, her busy hands steadying a stack of boxes beside her. Amelia appreciated them for coming to her rescue, but she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that hung in the air like a fog.

With a sigh that reverberated through her entire being, Amelia hung up her phone, thoughts spiralling in a chaotic dance. Dean had gone radio silent. They hadn't been together long, but she had finally let herself hope for stability, and yet here she was—alone again, on a day meant for hope.

The silence felt deafening and cruel.

Across the lawn, Owen stood in the doorway of his trailer, nursing a coffee while observing Amelia's silent distress. Seeing her like this, a frown deepening with frustration as she tried to juggle toddler responsibilities and manage moving day chaos, was excruciating. He couldn't just stand there.

Gathering his resolve, he walked through the grass and towards the house, stopping just a few paces from the porch. "What are you guys doing?" His voice cut through the tension like a knife, brave but cautious. He took in the scene of Amelia, Meredith, and Maggie clustered around boxes and bags, whispering observations to one another with the occasional chuckle.

Meredith answered matter-of-factly, "We were just about to call a U-Haul because she's dealing with two years' worth of Ryan's stuff and the boxes from LA."

"Yeah, I know how that goes," he chuckled, referring to when he had helped her move.

"Yup," the Shepherd responded, but she didn't laugh or smile. Owen's gut clenched as he saw the disappointment painted across Amelia's face; something was bothering her. Perhaps it was the absence of the man she'd chosen over Owen, but he wasn't sure as yet.

"Can I help?" The offer fell from his lips before he could reel it back. It may have been impulsive, but it was earnest. He didn't like seeing her this way.

Amelia felt like her heart was sinking further into her stomach. "I can manage, really," she insisted, but it sounded weak, even to her ears. The frustration of being let down—again—was becoming too insurmountable, and the last thing she wanted was to depend on another person, especially Owen.

"You don't look like you can," he said softly. "What do you need help with?"

Amelia stared at him, her brow knitting again. "Owen—"

"Amelia," he cut in gently. "I don think Dean is showing up. Let me help. Just today."

She hesitated, the walls of her heart a fortress. "It's okay, I—"

"I'm not picking up another damn box," Meredith interjected, fixing Amelia with a look that dared her to argue. She didn't particularly like Owen for Amelia, considering her own reservations about his relationship with Cristina, but she liked him better than the recovering addict Amelia seemed intent on dating for some reason. Maybe Owen would have better odds at managing her.

Finally, swallowed by the weight of their relentless labor and her own disappointment, Amelia relented. "Fine, but just don't break anything." The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as Owen chuckled, and for a moment, the air felt lighter.