CHAPTER 29 Charlie
CHAPTER 29
Charlie
I t’s late when I pull up to my house, but when I go to turn into the garage, I can’t get to it, because a brand-new, black BMW 7 Series sedan is taking up my entire driveway.
I glare at it, my stomach rolling, a sour taste in my mouth.
What the hell? Who’s here? Where’s Rowan?
I end up blocking the car in, because of course there’s no street parking, and sprint to my front door, fumbling with my keys. But then I realize it’s unlocked.
When I step inside, Rowan isn’t sitting on the couch where he usually is, and he doesn’t come running into my arms.
“Rowan?” I call. “Baby?”
Nothing.
Ice pours into my veins. What the hell is going on?
“Rowan?”
I hear a choked sound, which makes my adrenaline spike. I hurry down the hall to our bedroom, where I sag against the doorframe. He’s here. I get a better look at him, and my hackles rise again.
Rowan’s crumpled on the floor in the corner, his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. He looks as small as I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his face has pink splotches on it—closer to fuchsia than his hair.
Spots flash in my vision, and my throat tightens painfully. Seeing him crying makes me feel all kinds of things: a deep protectiveness—he’s my mermaid without a tail, my selkie who’s lost his skin, mine —but also a simmering need to fix whatever hurt him. By whatever means necessary.
“Hey,” I say quietly, crouching down next to him and holding up my hands like he’s going to bite. “What’s wrong?”
“Things,” he mutters to his knees.
Panic lances through me. “Did I do something wrong? Nothing happened with me and Tristan at the party. He had kind of a shit night, but that’s because of things outside of you, me, or him. Are you pissed at me?”
He shakes his head, his bangs flopping on his forehead, and my chest eases a little. “I just don’t want you to see me like this.”
I put my hands on his knees and squeeze them. “Baby, I’ve seen you desperate.” I don’t want to rub salt in his wounds, but having his car stolen and getting evicted had to be low points in his life. “I’m not going to hold anything you tell me against you. Whatever your feelings are, they’re valid. Everything is going to fucking be okay.” I don’t know that I can promise that last part, but it makes him finally look up at me, so I vow to fix whatever happened to him. Especially when I see that his dark blue eyes are full of pain—so much pain that I can’t breathe. “What is it?”
“I found my birth family.”
That … wasn’t what I was expecting. “Is that …” Now I don’t know what kind of tears these are. Happy? Sad? Relieved? Angry?
“It’s fucked up.”
My stomach sinks. “I’m so sorry. Give me one second, and we’ll take care of this.” I shuck off my dress clothes, letting them fall wherever, and yank on lounge pants and a T-shirt. “Come to bed with me.” I remove Rowan’s shoes and jeans, then tug him onto the mattress with me, letting him lean on my chest while I sit with my back to the headboard so he doesn’t have to look at me as he processes whatever he learned today. His tiny ass is in my lap, and his arms are around my neck. Mine are around him. “Okay, now. How are you? What happened?”
“Ch-Charlie, I’m so …” And he starts sobbing again. His entire body shakes as he howls into me. It makes tears come to my eyes, too.
Because what must he be feeling? To not know anything about his history—even his exact birthday, his parents, none of it. And now that he does, who are they? Please, universe, let them not be homophobic like the Graffs. Let them accept him for who he is.
Rowan starts scratching me, and I allow it. He beats on my sternum and cries and swears, his voice getting louder, then softer, then incomprehensible. He’s snotty, wiping his face on my shirt, and I let the storm happen. I don’t even try to soothe him, other than holding him, because he needs to get this out. Suppressing this much emotion wouldn’t be good.
After quite a while, he hiccups and calms. “I told you I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“And I told you I could handle it. I’m here for you, baby. Whatever you need.”
He snuffles into me, and I squeeze my arms tight around him like I’m holding him together. I might be doing just that. “You smell good,” he says. “It’s that lotion, isn’t it?”
“You spying on me?” I tease. “Go through my medicine cabinet?”
Rowan wipes his eyes and sticks his nose in the air. “Obviously. You and your fancy products.”
“They’re not that fancy.”
“I looked them up, and I couldn’t afford them. I guess I can now, though.” He starts sobbing again.
So … I guess his family is well-off? That seems like a good thing, unless they’re bigoted creeps after all.
“Hey, baby,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I’m here. ”
I hold him through another round of tears. I don’t know what else to do, and I don’t like being helpless to make him feel better. Finally, his tears ebb, and he clears his throat.
In a low voice, Rowan says, “The most fucked up part is that he says he’s been looking for me the whole time.”
Rowan has suffered so much, and it was possibly needless? That makes me feel physically ill—a deep, sudden nausea. I swallow hard and try to keep it together. “Really?”
Rowan nods. “He used private investigators and everything. But he paid to keep his DNA off the websites, which is why I could never find him.”
“How did he find you?”
Even in his misery, Rowan smirks. “Because someone who has perfectionist tendencies and is a rule-abiding lawyer with a love of plans and lists insisted that I go to the police station when my car was stolen and do everything by the book.”
I blink rapidly and then openly stare at him. “ That’s how he found you? Our trip to the police station?”
He snorts. “Kinda. He didn’t know what last name my mother put down for me, so he’s been looking for a Rowan John my age, born on April 16. When we went to the police station, someone noticed I met his criteria and contacted him, and I guess then he put me under surveillance and when they decided I might be his son, he fucking had me kidnapped so he could do a paternity test.”
I have to have heard him wrong. “You wanna say that again?”
“He had to be sure I was really his, so he had some jackasses—his PI or whatever, I guess, though you’d think he could spring for a better one—pick me up. The dude who’s been in front of your house? He was one of them. They pulled a gun on me. Then they shot me up with some kind of drug to make me fall asleep, and I woke up in a windowless room. After he’d taken my cheek swab and sent it off to some speedy lab.”
I’m apparently stepping on the same emotional roller coaster Rowan’s been on, because anger flashes through me like a chemical fire. “What the hell? Is he some kind of gangster?”
“No.” Rowan studies me, clearly waiting to see how I’m going to react. “He’s Remi St. Thomas.”
I stare at him. “As in …”
“Yes. It sounds like my rightful name might be Rowan St. Thomas.”
There’s no other word to describe what happens when he confirms the name: I’m stunned . My brain goes haywire, and my body stiffens. For real, this is a bombshell.
I have no idea how much money the St. Thomases have, but I know one thing for certain: I’m in bed with the heir to billions .
Rowan’s not a guttersnipe—he’s a prince.
Get it together, Charlie.
But still, what the actual fuck?
I don’t question him. There’s no way Rowan is joking. “Wow,” is all I can think to say.
Because money like that changes everything. Especially for a man who was in a position like Rowan was—where he had nothing and was one step up from living on the streets.
“Guess I met one of your relatives tonight,” I say. “Bree St. Thomas. Not sure where she sits on the family tree. She was kind of a bitch. Gave off homophobic vibes.”
“Huh. You know more than I do.” He sighs. “Now that I told you who I am,” Rowan St. Thomas says, picking at the sheets, “I’m scared you’re gonna treat me differently.”
To be frank, so am I. And I’m afraid he’ll leave, now that he won’t need me anymore.
“You’re still Rowan,” I say slowly. “I’ve been attracted to you since before I knew your name—before you knew it. I’ve wanted you since you pulled a goddamned knife on me and I got you on your back.”
“I like it when you put me on my back.”
That makes me grin despite everything .
“But now everything is fucked up,” he says.
“I’ll be honest: I’m shocked, and my first reaction is to agree with you, but my law school training is kicking in here, and I want to question the premise. Yes, assuming your… father …” Rowan doesn’t react, so I figure it’s okay to use that word. “Assuming he wants to help you out, bring you into the family, whatever—right? Is that the idea?” He nods, and I take a breath. “Well, then yes, that’ll mean you have access to more money”—a lot more—“and you now know a big secret about yourself that you’d wondered about your entire life. Those are big changes, sure. But do they make you different?”
“I think they do.”
“How so?”
“Because … I don’t know. I’m so confused, Charlie. Don’t make me figure everything out right now.”
I kiss his cheek. “Fair. I won’t. I’m sorry, I’m not cross-examining you. I’ll stop. Wait, I lied. One more question for now: Is that BMW in the driveway from your father?”
He nods. “He said he’d give me a car and a house and money for clothes and food. He gave me a credit card and says he’s setting up a bank account or something with the lawyers. He says he’s been looking for me the entire time I’ve been alive. He wants to have a relationship with me.”
“That’s a lot to process,” I say, holding him closer, his bony ass sharp on my thighs. He might leave a bruise. I don’t care.
“It’s just so, so messed up,” Rowan whispers. “I feel screwed out of life . I could’ve had a family growing up, and instead, I got …” He looks pointedly at his tattoos. “And what the fuck? My mom gave me up intentionally .” He sighs. “I can empathize with her maybe feeling scared that she was pregnant and all alone. Remi showed me a letter she wrote him. But still. I’m pissed at her, too. She fucked me over.”
While there’s no guarantee his life would’ve been perfect with the St. Thomases, things certainly would have been different if he’d known his family. I nod. “It’s a clusterfuck. I said I’d stop asking questions, but I’m kind of guessing a few things here, and I’d rather hear it from you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Wanna tell me how you’re feeling?”
Rowan sighs, and even though I’ve seen him at some pretty low moments, until now I’ve never heard him sound like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I don’t know. At first, it was rage. Like I’ve been cheated. I put up with so much shit, and now I find out that I’m … I can’t even say the word.” He squares his shoulders. “Rich. That I might be rich. That I have a family I didn’t know about, and they have more money than I can dream of. And then, do I deserve any of this? Shouldn’t I be happier? How is my life going to change? It’s so damn overwhelming. Most of me doesn’t believe it’s true. Like, this is someone playing a prank on me.”
I run a finger along his jaw. “Pretty elaborate prank, if it is.”
“I need to do some research on them.”
“Do that. Or you can just ask Mr. St. Thomas. Remi? I assume he gave you a way to get in contact with him.”
“Yeah. Oh, by the way, we’re going to need to get used to having someone tailing me. I guess now I’m going to have bodyguards or security or something.”
“Holy shit.” I nuzzle his head. “This is going to take you some time to think through.”
“Yeah.” He breathes in. “I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” I rumble. “I care about you, baby boy. In case you haven’t figured that out.”
“I care about you, too,” he whispers. “A lot.”
We fall silent. A car horn blares outside, and then a neighbor must open a window, because rap music starts playing.
I’m worried about Rowan. Something about this does feel too good to be true. Even if it did come with a side of kidnapping.
“Back to him having people pull a gun on you,” I say. “What the hell? Why would he do that? ”
“Because he didn’t want me extorting him for money if I didn’t turn out to be his son. Although he says the gun wasn’t part of his plan.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. Then what would he have done? Killed you?”
Rowan shrugs and runs a finger down my jawline, his eyes searching mine. “He’s a powerful man. I have no idea. I guess he fired the guy who orchestrated my kidnapping.”
“You must’ve been scared.”
“Me? Nah.”
I give him a raised eyebrow look that says bullshit .
Weird that the part that bothers me the most isn’t the crime they committed against him today, although that does make me livid.
The part that bothers me the most is the decades that Rowan lived not knowing who he was, when he was Someone with a capital S . I think deep down, he sensed it. Maybe he was acting out—dyeing his hair, making his appearance unforgettable—so they could find him.
“I’m supposed to see him tomorrow for lunch,” he says. “This time without the kidnapping.”
“How do you feel about that? Do you want me to go with you?”
He shakes his head. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can. But do you want me to go anyway?”
Rowan blinks. “This is what it’s like to have a boyfriend?”
Butterflies bounce around in my stomach, but that term feels very right. I grin at him. “Yep.”
We kiss lightly, but I don’t take it any farther, because he’s pretty wrung out. “What do you need now?” I ask. “Do you have any aftereffects from the kidnapping? Do you need to go midnight bowling?”
“ Now you’re asking me on a date?” Rowan’s entire face lights up, even though it’s still splotchy from his tears .
“The timing is bad, I’ll admit.” I hold him tight. “You know I was attracted to you before your hoity-toity family name and money, right?”
“You proved that many times over.” He snuggles into me. “Today’s too much to handle. I just want to stay here with you.”
“As you wish.”
“Ugh,” Rowan groans. “I’m all up in my feels. I don’t know how to put all this aside so I can relax. Part of me wants to just go punch something.”
“You can fight me,” I offer.
If he needs to beat me up, I’ll take it. He scratched me up some during his crying jag earlier, but that wasn’t a fight.
He gives me a long once-over. Is he going to say yes?
Finally, he shakes his head. “I need to check out more than I want to fight.”
“The main things I do when I want to check out are whiskey, weed, or sex. Do any of those appeal?”
“Of those options, I can’t believe I’m picking weed,” Rowan mutters. “I’d think I’d always pick sex, especially with you, but I’m just too stressed out and today’s been too much and I need chemical help.”
“You got it, baby.” I scoot him off me and reach over to the bedside table, riffling through it until I find my vape pen. I hand it to him.
He reads the side, then brings it to his mouth and inhales deeply, holding his breath. “I didn’t know you vaped,” he says when he exhales.
“Not that often. Just sometimes.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
I tug him back into my lap and kiss the top of his head. He sucks on the pen again, then passes it to me, and I take a hit. Because I might need something to help me check out, too. That or therapy. My boyfriend isn’t who I thought he was. He’s so much more .
“I found Wilbur,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as he melts into me.
I laugh with surprise and smile against his hair. “You did? Where? How is he?”
“He was behind a big rock kind of near the campground. His pot was broken, but I put him in a bag. Right now, he’s in the bathroom. I need to get him a new pot.”
“I probably have one out in the shed that would work,” I say. “Want me to get it now?”
“Not yet. Can I have the vape?”
I nod. We keep passing it between us until we’re both lying down, and I’m in that buzzed-out state where I’m separate from real life—where I’m observing things instead of a part of them. It’s letting me relax but still be aware.
I’m on my back, and Rowan’s sprawled out across me. He’s playing with my hair and snuggling his head under my chin. I’m drawing shapes on his ribs. We stopped talking a while ago. What else is there to say?
It’s all different now.
Rowan’s been the missing boy for so long. And now he’s found. No wonder he needed to zone out.
I’m not worried about the money. Or not just about the money, if I’m being honest. It’s the fact that Rowan is now going to be all into his family, and he’s not going to have time for me.
Wow, is that poor little me talking? I have to knock that off immediately. I shouldn’t let the drugs loosen my brain too much. Rowan’s just found a family he’s been searching for for decades, and I’m making it about me. I’m such a tool.
We stay like this a long time. Even when the position gets uncomfortable, I don’t move. If he needs to hear me breathing, so be it. I’m here for him.
I can’t imagine what all is going through his brain. Going from nothing to, maybe, everything has to be a complete mindfuck.
After a while, staying still does get to be too much, and I stumble into the bathroom to pee and get a warm washcloth for Rowan’s face. We’re both kind of a mess.
“Want a midnight snack?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “I forgot to eat all day.”
“Then let me make you a sandwich, and after that, we’ll go to sleep.”
“Deal.”