Chapter 20 （Rowan）
Rowan
The cursor blinked steadily on the screen. It didn’t care that I’d been staring at it for at least ten minutes without typing another word.
Everything was filled out for my new bank account – the name, the address, the security questions.
Just one more step, and I could call the bank to transfer over whatever was left of my money.
I'd be free of the quiet dread that twisted in my gut every time I remembered that his name was still attached to mine.
Damn it... It shouldn’t be this hard.
I fidgeted on the sofa, the laptop balanced on my legs as I read over the information for what had to be the fifth time. For God's sake, it was just a form. I’d done this before.
My fingers hovered over the trackpad. Just a click. Just finish it.
I couldn't. As soon as that transfer cleared, Marcus would know I was still alive.
My chest tightened. I pulled in a breath, slow and shaky, and let it out through my nose.
I had to do this. I had to. He still had access to everything.
I couldn't leave things tangled like this if I ever wanted to break free of him.
And yet here I sat, frozen, letting that control slip through my fingers all over again.
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the cushion. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. A jolt of courage? A voice in my head telling me it was safe?
I was supposed to be taking my life back, but it didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. I hadn't left my flat in days. Every sudden noise made my heart leap into my throat and sent my mind racing to the worst-case scenario.
As if to prove my point, a sharp gust of wind rattled the window. The sound made me jump and snapped me out of the fog in my head.
I sat up and forced my fingers back to the keyboard. One last click.
Submit.
There. Done.
My stomach turned when the confirmation screen popped up. I'd finally taken the first step. But instead of relief, I felt sick.
I shut the laptop and tossed it aside. Every part of me ached with exhaustion.
My ribs still hurt, and the stitches in my face still made it difficult to wear my glasses.
Hell, just getting up in the morning felt like scaling Everest. I just couldn't shake the weight pressing down on me.
I couldn't shake the crippling fear of what would happen when Marcus came back into the picture.
I couldn't shake Eli, either.
He wasn't even coming around very often. Only first thing in the morning to make sure I got breakfast and in the evenings with crap takeaway so I didn't have to cook dinner. He never stormed in or demanded anything. He just showed up and somehow made the flat feel less suffocating.
I never expected him to come back after the way I told him off. But he did. And to my surprise, he wasn't trying to fix anything. He was just there to help in whatever ways he could. It made it harder to keep my guard up.
He did things without making a show of it.
He noticed when I winced and helped me move around until the pain passed.
When the anxiety kicked in, he knew how to calm me down.
He gave me space but wouldn't let me vanish into it.
Somewhere in all that quiet, I started leaning toward him more than I used to.
It wasn't just the comfort he offered. It was the way he looked at me. Steady, unflinching, without pity. He saw what was broken in me and didn't try to pretend it wasn't there. And he stayed, anyway.
And then there was that moment the other day.
His hands were warm against my face, his voice low and steady.
And then he rested his forehead against mine and said that none of this was my fault.
I could feel his breath, see the way his lashes moved.
It was the kind of closeness I'd always wanted from him.
The kind that pulled everything else out of focus.
I should've stepped away, but I couldn't. All I could do was stare at him, and for a frightening second, I almost just ... went for it.
I dropped my head into my hands and groaned.
I almost kissed him. In the middle of all this shit, when I could barely hold myself together, I almost reached for something I had no business wanting. If I'd gone through with it, I would've wrecked whatever peace we'd managed to build. I would've made it weird, and he'd have backed off.
Did he know what he was doing to me, though? Did he have any idea how easy it would've been for me to cross every line I'd drawn just to feel something good again?
Thankfully, I'd caught myself. I'd already pushed him away once. I couldn't mess this up again. I couldn't lose him when I'd just gotten him back.
And even if all of this was real and I was reading it right, how long could it possibly last? How long until his patience ran out? How long until he realised I was too much and he didn't really want to deal with it?
I didn't trust it. This wasn't a relationship. This was damage control. And sooner or later, Eli would figure it out, too.
It wasn't like he had a history of holding onto relationships, anyway.
He always moved from one person to the next, never staying long enough for things to really get serious.
I'd seen him drift in and out of flings, and this would be no different.
Once the dust settled and I wasn't broken anymore, he'd go back to his life in London.
And I'd go back to being an afterthought.
Despite all that, though... I missed him when he wasn't around. More than I cared to admit. I wanted to call him, tell him I was struggling, that the steps I was trying to take toward freedom felt like they were pulling me in the other direction.
But I couldn't burden him with that. He'd done too much already, and I didn't want to make him feel obligated to take on any more of my mess.
My phone went off without warning, and I flinched so hard that it sent a sharp jolt through my chest. I cursed under my breath when pain shot up my side. My hands scrambled for the device like I could shut it up fast enough to stop my heart from clawing its way up my throat.
No one had called me in days, though. Even Eli was texting instead of phoning. Who the hell would –
My mind went straight to the worst. My stomach dropped, convinced it was Marcus. How did he find out so damn fast?
But then I saw the screen.
An alarm. Just an alarm.
The tightness in my ribs stayed, but it eased enough for me to at least breathe again.
Right... I'd set it last night to remind myself about the follow-up with my GP. I needed to get the stitches taken out.
I glared at the phone. What the fuck possessed me to set the loudest ringtone in my library as the alarm? Was I hoping to blast myself out of bed with a full-blown panic attack? Jesus.
I forced another breath to try to calm the adrenaline. It was fine. I was fine. Just a ... really bad choice in phone settings.
I stayed there for a few minutes, phone clenched in one hand, the other gripping the edge of the cushion. My heart was still beating too fast, so I tried to breathe through it. Slow inhales, longer exhales.
Eventually, the sharp edge dulled. The trembling in my hands faded enough that I could hide it if I had to. My ribs still ached from the sudden movement, but the pain was manageable now. Not great. But manageable.
I leaned forward and rubbed a hand over my face, then let it fall limply into my lap. But just as I started to settle, I had another thought.
I had to leave the flat.
I tried to convince myself it wasn't a big deal. It was basically a straight shot. Down the road and around the corner. That's it. It would take all of ten minutes to walk there. Fifteen tops, if I moved slow.
But even a short walk didn't feel safe anymore. Not with my chest tight and my body still healing. Not with my brain jumping at every sound I didn't immediately recognise. Not with the ghost of him still lurking in every shadow of my mind.
Every step would be out in the open. No locked door to hide behind. No buffer to protect me.
I could think of no logical reason why Marcus would be anywhere between here and there. But no matter what I did to shake the fear, it clung tight to me. For all I knew, he did already know that I was still alive, and he was just waiting for a clean shot.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the sofa again. My palms were sweating.
I could cancel. Stay where it was safe. Or at least reschedule. I didn't have to go right this second. It could wait a few more days –
No. No, if I put it off, I'd keep putting it off. And then I'd never get it done. I couldn't barricade myself in here forever. Sooner or later, I'd have to walk out that door. But the thought made my skin crawl.
I clenched my jaw and sat forward again, elbows on my knees, fingers threaded tight in my hair. I desperately didn't want to go anywhere. But I couldn't leave the stitches in much longer, either.
It wasn’t supposed to be this fucking hard. It was just a walk. A routine appointment. But I couldn’t stop bracing for everything to go wrong.
My fingers dug into my scalp. I hated this. I hated feeling like a cornered animal. I needed to get out. I just... I couldn’t do it alone.
Maybe I could ... ask Eli to go with me? I didn't want to drag him into something as asinine as this. But... Well...
He was already coming around every day. And it wasn't like I had to tell him anything. If he asked questions, I could just say that I wasn't feeling great – which wasn't a complete lie. I didn't have to admit that I was too damn scared to even step through my front door.
I just needed someone to walk with me. I didn't want to be alone out there.
I reached for my phone, but instead of texting him, I just stared at the black screen.
This was stupid. It wasn't even a big ask, but it still felt like too much. How pathetic did a person have to be to need someone just to walk them down the street?
I clenched my jaw and forced the thought down. It was a precaution. Nothing else.
I slowly tapped his name and opened the message app: Hey, I have to get the stitches out today. Would you be willing to –
I stopped there, reread it, deleted the last sentence, then rewrote it: Any chance you'd go with me?
That was fine. Casual. No panic buried between the lines. I hit send before I could change my mind and tossed the phone on the table.
Getting my shoes on felt like trying to fold myself into a shape my body no longer understood.
Every bend sent a fresh pain through my chest. I moved slow, and my fingers were clumsy with the laces.
I had to stop to catch my breath halfway through, teeth clenched so tight it made my head hurt. But I got it done. Somehow.
By the time I eased back upright and pushed myself carefully to my feet, my phone buzzed with an answer from Eli: Of course. Be there in five.
That was it. Simple. No questions. No hesitation.
My shoulders sagged, and I exhaled quietly. For the first time all day, the fear didn't feel quite so suffocating.