Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Colt
“Thanks,” I say as I clap Davis on the shoulder.
“Hey, good luck in there, man.”
I step out of his car and fish my keys out of my pocket.
I honestly don’t know what I’m about to walk into.
I have no idea if Rowan is here, if she’s in a hotel somewhere or god forbid, on the street with her sister.
Maybe she’s gone on a rampage and destroyed my favorite paintings. I really fucking hope she’s here.
I’ve never been afraid to lose someone before – not like this, at least. My son is the only person I’ve ever truly feared pushing away or having taken from me. But god, if I really lose her, I don’t know what I’ll do.
The house is silent when I enter, and the lights are off, making it difficult to navigate through. I fumble for the main switch against the wall and flick on the living room overhead lights, which let me at least see where I’m going.
I check the coffee table, then the dining room table and counter, for any sign of a note – some sort of goodbye. I’m not sure she would even leave one, if she was as upset as she seemed, but I still feel relieved when there’s nothing there.
“Rowan?” I call out to no response.
I navigate my way down the hall until I hear the faintest sound of sniffling coming from Rowan’s room. I rap my knuckle on the door gently before pushing it open and stepping carefully inside.
Rowan is sitting on the floor on her knees next her dresser, a suitcase at her side laying open. Her body is slack, exhausted, while she pulls pieces from the dresser. I take a few tentative steps closer to her and crouch down on the floor in front of her.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing,” she responds without looking at me. “We’re leaving.”
“Rowan, I’m sorry.”
“That’s a funny word, isn’t it? Sorry,” she says, lifting her head to meet my gaze.
“The first time my dad went at me – I mean, really went at me – he chucked an ashtray at my head. It shattered on the wall, glass all over the place. It was one of those old ones, you know? Huge, heavy.” She wipes her eye with the back of her hand as another sniffle comes from her nose.
“The next day, he saw all the bandaids on my feet – from getting all that glass in them while I cleaned it up. He told me he was so sorry and it would never happen again. And I forgave him. He said the same thing the next time, and the next one, and the one after that. Six times a week, he was sorry. And I forgave him every time. Even after he wished me dead, if he came here and told me he was sorry, I would forgive him. Because he’s my dad, and I love him. ”
“Ro—”
“And because I love you, you stupid idiot,” she sobs, and I damn near fall apart, “I’ll forgive you. But I’m so tired of sorry, Colt. I’ve had enough sorry to last me my whole life. I need something real.”
“I was trying to protect you,” I tell her, “and I got it wrong. I didn’t want people at the office to—”
“To know about your dirty little secret.”
“To see you with your boss and spread rumors or insult you, Rowan,” I correct her. “You had just stopped flinching when I told you something good about yourself.”
She shakes her head, wiping at her eyes again. “I don’t do that.”
“You did. Every single time – until Italy. Until you slipped into that red dress and I think, just for a second, you saw in the mirror what I see every time that I look at you. And if people at work saw us together,” I say, reaching for her hand to pull away the pair of shorts she’s holding, “I was worried that they would take that away from you. And I didn’t realize—” I stumble over my words, too many thoughts trying to force their way out at once.
“You went out with my son. If I— is there any universe in which you could actually see yourself a stepmother to someone two years older than you? Is that real to you?”
“Yes,” she cries. “Ever since you took me to that party for your stupid art club. With the cheeseburgers and the kiss… You were just supposed to be my boss. But now you’re all of my firsts, and I’m— God, Colt, I’m so mad at you!”
Her hands fly forward, landing a unified blow to my chest that sends me backward onto my ass. For a little thing, she sure is strong.
“You can be mad,” I tell her. “I can take it.”
Sobbing, she throws her hands at my chest again and again, and I let her, because I know it’s not just me she’s angry with. Even if it was, I’d let her. I would deserve it.
Almost four years of grief and rage have pushed their way to the surface, and she’s finally letting it go; the pain of losing her mother, losing the father she knew, enduring years of abuse and trying to raise her sister alone. So as long as she needs it, I can sit here and take it.
I can show her that someone sees her pain.
When her arms finally slacken, I reach mine toward her and wrap her in a crushing hug against my chest. She resists at first, strong as she struggles against me, but she quickly settles, melting into the embrace instead.
“I hate you right now,” she tells me, her voice muffled as she cries into the wall of my chest.
“That’s alright.” I stroke her hair and press a kiss to the top of her head. “You can hate me for a while. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”
I hold her tightly until she calms, and for a few minutes after that, then scoop her into my arms and carry her over to her bed.
I set her gently onto the mattress and pull the layered, floral-printed blankets over her, then I move to the other side of the bed and slip off my suit jacket, folding it and setting it on the nightstand before I kick my shoes off and climb in next to her.
Rowan pushes herself closer to me and I drape an arm over her in response, stroking soft, soothing circles at her back.
She scooches even closer to me and I move my hand from her back to her jaw, cupping it gently to make her meet my gaze.
The beautiful sapphire eyes I love so much are red and bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and irritated.
She closes them as I lean in to press light kisses to her eyelids, then move my lips to hers.
“You were drinking,” she whispers.
My thumb brushes over her cheek, and I offer her a regretful smile. “I was afraid I would come home to find you gone.”
She hesitates for a moment, eyes searching mine as her hand rests on my jaw. For a second, I worry she’ll come to her senses and kick me out of the room.
“Colt?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Do you actually love me?”
“Yes, I do,” I tell her. “I love you very much. I’m just sorry that I didn’t say it sooner.”
She pulls my lips to hers and I deepen our kiss. We keep a slow, savoring pace, like it’s the last time we’ll ever kiss each other – and I worry for a moment that that’s exactly what’s happening, but I don’t ask. I don’t want to ruin whatever this moment is between us.
Rowan’s hands find their way to my collar and she grips onto it to pull us even closer together. Bodies pressed against one another, she drapes a leg over mine, and my hands slowly explore her body, grazing over the curve of her hips, working over her clothing.
I stop myself, considering the day she’s had, and pull away from her just enough to ask, “Are you too tired for this?”
“Probably,” she answers, “but I don’t want to stop.”
“Good.” I tangle my hand into her hair and pull her back to me, telling her, “Because I want to take my time with you,” before I claim her mouth with mine again.
It’s Rowan’s hands that get greedy, slowly pulling away the buttons of my shirt to follow the trail of body hair from my chest to the waist of my slacks.
My breath hitches in my chest at her touch and my hand moves from her hair, reaching into her shorts to grab onto her ass, forcing a soft groan from her mouth.
Her hips move against me, just slightly, and it takes every effort not to tear her clothes off and fuck her like my life depends on it, because it feels like it does, but I don’t let myself. I want to soak in every second of this and relish this moment with her.
With my eyes locked onto hers, I reach for her wrist and bring it to my mouth, pressing light kisses to her delicate skin, working my way up to her palm until I reach her fingertips.
“Do that again,” she breathes.
And so I do.
I trail kisses up from her wrist and back down, and she shudders when I make my way down to the crook of her elbow. We shed what’s left of our clothes and lay together, kissing and touching, until I think we might both lose our minds from need.
My hand lands on her ass with a smack and I pull her onto my cock, groaning as I slide inside of her to the hilt. We maintain eye contact as we move against each other – slow and deep; savoring.
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever felt this strongly about someone, in all of my life.
I loved Emmett’s mother, sure, but that was a high school romance.
Nothing more than glorified puppy love that was always going to end.
My priorities in life changed the minute that second line showed up on the pregnancy test, and hers just..
.didn’t. It took me a long time to realize that even if she hadn’t been pregnant, we would have drifted apart.
My last girlfriend, I was serious enough about to bring her around my family and friends.
We separated through no fault of her own shortly after.
My son was young and he was angry that I had brought someone new into our lives – he was convinced that she had come to take me away from him, and I swore to myself I’d never do that again. It was too risky.
But Rowan consumes me. Every thought that I have is her.
Everything I want in this life is her. If she asked me to give up everything I worked for, I’d leave it behind in a second.
If she asked me for the moon, I’d find a way to bring it down to Earth and set it at her feet.
I know it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t feel this way about her, but I don’t give a shit anymore.
She’s mine and I will never let go of her.
As her breathing grows heavier, I cup her face.
“My perfect girl,” I breathe.
Her arm wraps around my shoulder while she comes, her body shaking and bucking against me as she moans my name, and she holds on tight as she rides the wave, sending me right over the edge with her.
“Don’t sleep in your room tonight,” she says quietly, wrapped in my arms as we both come down.
I do as she asks – not that she needed to ask, I would have stayed even if she tried to kick me out – and I hold her tightly while she sleeps. Tomorrow, I can think about our next steps. Tonight, nothing else exists but us and this moment.
·
Where the soft morning sun should be shining into the house, the sky is muggy this morning, looking like it’s going to rain any minute.
I pour a second shot of espresso into my mug then fish a bagel out of the toaster oven before slathering it in cream cheese and heading to the table to take the seat across from Rowan.
With Macie out of earshot, I take the opportunity given to talk with Rowan, telling her, “I’m going to talk with Emmett – about us.”
“Today?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He has exams this week, there won’t be time. But I will make the plans with him today.”
“Okay. Just…don’t ask me to be your secret, okay?”
I reach across the table to take her hand in mine. “I won’t. No more secrets.”
This is my last chance and I know it. There is no making up for it if I let her down again.