Chapter Five
Cade
It’s been an odd day, in more ways than one.
Neither of us had anywhere to be, except for whatever mysterious errand pulled Rowan out of the apartment at the crack of dawn.
So, we’ve been stuck here together, just the two of us, for the first time in…
ever, really. No parents playing referee, no obligatory family dinners, no excuses to disappear into separate rooms. Just hours of shared space, and I’m surprised to find myself quietly fascinated by the man my stepbrother has become.
We started the morning with a game show playing on the TV while Rowan moved around the kitchen making breakfast. When I asked if I could have some too, he just shrugged and muttered “sure” without quite meeting my eyes.
I’d been braced for more resistance, but he didn’t fight it.
We ended up shouting answers at the screen…
me barking out the correct one in a flat voice, him hurling creative insults at the “dumb bastard” who got it wrong.
I caught myself grinning the whole time; it felt…
natural, and… weirdly easy. Maybe the tension between us was mostly manufactured by forced family gatherings and years of keeping our distance.
Later, I came back from the bathroom and dropped onto the couch without thinking.
I ended up sitting closer to him than intended, simply because it gave the best view of the TV.
Rowan immediately shifted away, putting deliberate space between us.
I frowned, then laughed under my breath, wondering why he couldn’t stand being that close.
The memory of this morning flashed through my mind…
the way he yelped and spun around the second he saw me in nothing but a towel, the way he jolted when my wet skin brushed his back.
He’d never reacted like that before. When we were teenagers, I used to walk around shirtless all summer without him batting an eye. So why the sudden discomfort now?
…
Now it’s evening. I’m leaning against the kitchen island with a cold glass of water in my hand, waiting for the takeout I insisted on ordering.
Rowan’s been off ever since he got back this morning… fidgety, tense, and avoiding eye contact more than usual. I want to ask where he went, what put that distant look in his eyes, but I decide to leave it alone for today. He’s finally starting to settle, the nervous energy easing a little.
He must feel me watching him because he glances over from the living room, brows pulling together. “What?”
I tilt my head slightly, noticing the faint redness creeping up the side of his neck. Interesting. I don’t answer. Just take another slow sip of water, eyes still on him.
Rowan clears his throat and looks back toward the TV, shifting uncomfortably. “Stop staring at me, you weirdo.”
A huff of amusement escapes me. I glance down at my phone instead, tracking the delivery driver’s progress on the map. The little car icon inches closer to our building.
…
The takeout arrives twenty minutes later, and we end up sprawled on the sectional like a couple of teenage boys who’ve known each other forever, instead of two grown stepbrothers who’ve spent most of their lives carefully avoiding real time together.
The coffee table is covered in boxes and wrappers. I went with a creative pizza loaded with fennel sausage, caramelized onions, and hot honey. Rowan stuck with something safer… fries, a burger, the usual.
We flick through channels until we land on a stand-up special.
The comedian is sharp and cynical, and before long we’re both laughing.
My laugh comes out deep and low, rumbling from my chest. Rowan’s is quieter, more contained, a warm smile that tilts the corners of his mouth upward while a soft, breathy sound escapes from low in his throat, almost like he’s trying to hold it back but can’t quite manage it.
It makes him look more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years.
For the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely comfortable around him. The silence between us doesn’t feel heavy. It feels… easy.
I glance over at Rowan as he reaches for another handful of fries. A rare spark of generosity hits me.
“Hey,” I say, holding up my slice. “Do you want to try my sausage…”
Rowan instantly chokes on the fries he just shoved into his mouth. His eyes go wide, and he starts coughing hard, shoulders jerking forward.
“Shit…” I lean over and clap him firmly on the back a couple of times. “You okay?”
He’s bright red now, smacking his own chest and reaching blindly for his water. After a few desperate gulps, he rasps out, “Do I want to try what?!”
I pause, replaying my words, then bark out a loud laugh as realization hits. “My pizza,” I clarify, still chuckling as I hold the slice up higher. “It’s got sausage on it. Do you want a piece?”
Rowan stares at the pizza like it personally offended him. His gaze flicks up to mine, still flushed and wary. He shakes his head quickly.
I nudge the slice closer, my grin slow and deliberate. “It’s nice.”
Rowan opens his mouth to protest, but I don’t give him the chance.
I lean in, crowding his space, and press the tip of the pizza firmly against his lips.
He freezes, eyes widening as they lock onto mine.
For a heartbeat, the air between us thickens.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he obediently parts his lips and takes the bite I’m offering.
A low, satisfied sound rumbles in my chest. “Bite.”
He obeys instantly, teeth sinking into the crust and toppings while his gaze stays trapped on mine, wide and unsettled.
The sight of him accepting the food from my hand sends a sharp, unexpected thrill through me.
There’s something deeply satisfying about the way he yields so easily, no argument, no pushback. Just quiet compliance.
When he finally leans back against the couch, chewing slowly with flushed cheeks, I feel a dark rush of pleasure curl low in my gut at his obedience.