Page 68 of Ship Happens

“You packed your cane, right?” Kaitlyn asks.

Owen nods, though he’s not sure he’s willing to wait for someone to go all the way back to the room to get it for him. Weighing his options carefully, Owen looks at all of his friends, hating the pity that he can feel in their gazes. He hates it. Hates feeling like a burden. Hates feeling like he’s always the one who has to be taken care of.

“Owen?” Jacob kneels, meeting Owen eye-to-eye.

A large, strong hand comes to rest on top of his.

“I’m here, okay?” he says so softly that Owen isn’t sure anyone besides him can hear the words. He almost prefers it that way. “You tell me what you need.”

“Could you just carry me back?” he asks, a nervous heat filling his cheeks.

Jacob has carried him before. Granted, most of those instances involved the two of them getting hot and heavy, Jacob’s strong arms reaching around to lift him into the air without any effort at all, sometimes accidentally so. But there were times too when Owen’s flare-ups were really bad, though usually that just involved Jacob helping Owen up the steps of their building or moving from the couch to the bed on the worst days.

“Just to the room.”

“You’re okay with that?” Jacob asks, and while Owen appreciates him checking his boundaries, he just needs to be back in the suite. Owen nods, letting Kevin and Jacob both help him to his feet.

“You have your medication?” Kevin asks.

“Yeah.” Owen can already imagine the relief from that little orange bottle of 800-milligram ibuprofen that’s waiting for him in his bathroom bag. Owen steadies himself before he allows Jacob to scoop an arm under Owen’s knees, keeping his back supported as he lifts Owen. “How is that?” Jacob asks, adjusting his hold. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Owen admits, grimacing as the pain starts to settle in a different area. “But I’ll survive.”

“Hang on tight, spider monkey,” Jacob teases.

“I’m not Bella Swan.”

“You’re right,” Jacob says with a boyish grin. “Pale, ice-cold skin, you’re awkward and don’t know how to talk to people. You’re definitely Edward.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

They say goodbye to their friends, Owen bracing himself as Jacob starts to walk, keeping his pace slow. They catch a few odd stares from some of the other passengers as they exit the atrium. Owen tries his best not to feel so self-conscious; he knows he shouldn’t care if they’re judging him or not. If they are, they’re the weird ones; and if they aren’t, then that’s what he wants. But that doesn’t ease the shame that he feels, the embarrassment that comes with being gawked at.

“I think they’re staring at me,” Jacob says, humor in his tone. “They’ve never seen someone so handsome before.”

“God.” Owen lets out an exasperated sound. Something close to a laugh, but not quite. “Stop talking.”

He doesn’t, though; he keeps talking to Owen as they make their way through the labyrinthian ship, Owen grateful that Jacob seems to know the route to their room without much trouble. This close to Jacob, he feels right at home. Owen can see the places along his jaw where he needs to trim his beard, the faint freckles that dot his cheeks, the flecks of amber in his brown eyes.

He’s so beautiful, Owen thinks before he can stop himself.

Relief floods him as they round a familiar corner, Jacob ducking down just enough to let Owen scan his bracelet to let them into the lounge, and then again to get into their suite.

“I’ve got it from here,” Owen says, trying to let his feet fall to the floor, but Jacob keeps his grip tight. “Jacob, I’m okay.”

“Please just let me help you,” Jacob pleads with a softness in his gaze as he looks down at Owen. “Please?”

Owen relents, relaxing his body as Jacob deposits him gently on the couch. Once Owen is settled, Jacob rushes off, making his way into Owen and Kevin’s room. Owen’s immediate instinct is to ask what Jacob is rummaging around for before he hears the rattle of the pill bottle.

“Is this all you have?” Jacob asks as he approaches, pillow tucked under his armpit, along with Owen’s iPad, heating pad, folded-up cane, and water bottle. It takes Owen a moment to realize Jacob is talking about his medication.

“I have more in my bathroom,” he starts to say.

“Where are they?” Jacob asks, turning on his heel to head back to the bedroom before Owen can stop him.

“Jacob? Jacob, you don’t have to—” Owen starts to say before he finally recognizes the look on Jacob’s face, that focused expression that he’d always have when he took care of Owen. Owen had never gotten used to the idea of someone else wanting to take care of him. His parents had always made him feel like a burden, like he was wrong for needing help. No matter how hard he’d try to put the guilt away, it’d always creep back in, leaving Owen to lie about wanting more water or being hungry.

Jacob, though, had never hesitated to swoop in, to focus all of his attention on Owen when he was feeling his worst. He never minded getting Owen more water, bringing him a book or his sketchpad, going to the pharmacy for Owen or ordering Lyfts to take him to his doctor’s appointments, holding Owen’s hand the entire time they sat in the waiting room.