Chapter 4
Keaton
Rowan was moving in today. Mason had shared the news with Derek and Enzo the evening before when he and I had gotten home from the gym, while I got ready for my shift at the bar.
I told myself it didn’t matter that I’d be sharing a house with Rowan.
He was just another guy renting a room, and I’d deal with it.
But that was bullshit. He wasn’t some random fighter Devon had thrown in with us.
He was the boy who used to be my safe place when my house fell into chaos, the guy I’d trusted with everything, and now the man about to be too close for me to ignore.
His sudden reappearance had shaken me more than I cared to admit.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I forced myself to get up and head to the bathroom. When I’d had other roommates, the Jack-and-Jill setup had never bothered me, but the thought of sharing the space with my ex-best friend felt like my worst nightmare.
Once I was dressed, I pulled my shoulder-length hair into a bun and made my way to the kitchen. Passing the entryway, I saw Derek standing at the front door, one hand braced on the frame. A brunette in a halter top and jeans stood in front of him, giggling at something he said.
He pushed his blond hair back with an inked hand. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.” She beamed.
I laughed under my breath as I kept walking. He needed to stop giving out his number when he had no intention of calling his hookups again. Hell, I’d witnessed an almost identical scene just two days earlier with another woman.
A few seconds later, he joined me in the kitchen and lifted his chin in greeting. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I repeated.
“You’re up early for a Saturday.”
Even though the bar always closed at two, it took longer to go through my closing routine on Friday and Saturday nights because the crowds were bigger and the bands had to pack up their shit too before I could leave.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs.
“Nervous about the new roommate?” he teased.
Before I could tell him to fuck off, Enzo stepped through the sliding glass door from the backyard, fully dressed, his dark brown hair slicked back, a coffee cup in his hands.
He was a couple of years older than me and always seemed to have his shit together.
In the ring, he was ruthless, but outside, he was one of the nicest guys I’d ever met.
Plus, he was the only other person in the house who cleaned up after himself.
Rinsing out his cup in the sink, he glanced over his shoulder and asked, “So when’s Rowan getting here?”
“Don’t know,” I grumbled, cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl to scramble them.
Mason burst into the room next, his hair sticking up in every direction, already full of energy. “Is he here yet?” He scanned the room as if Rowan might be hiding behind one of us.
“Jesus Christ,” I snapped and started beating the eggs with a fork forcefully. “He’ll get here when he gets here. Can we stop talking about him?”
He sat on a stool at the island. “So what’s the deal? You guys ex-besties? Mortal enemies? Did someone steal someone’s girl?”
“Drop it.” I leveled him with a glare.
He didn’t. “I’ve just never seen you this aggro about anyone. You’re usually pretty chill about things.”
“He’s got a point,” Derek agreed.
Enzo crossed his arms over his chest. “If things are that bad with this guy, maybe we need to talk to Devon about making other arrangements.”
I shook my head. “Devon already made it clear I’m the one who needs to go if it’s going to be an issue. It’ll be fine,” I said, not believing my words for even a moment.
“And you’re really not going to tell us what happened between you two?” Enzo pressed.
I dropped the bowl on the counter harder than necessary. “We used to be friends, okay?”
“Yeah, I assumed, since you said you had been neighbors. What’d he do to piss you off?” Mason questioned.
“He turned into a dick. End of story.”
Mason lifted a brow. “End of story?”
“Pretty much.” I didn’t bother elaborating.
He propped his chin in his hand. “Oh, come on. There has to be more to it than that.”
“There isn’t.”
Derek smirked. “There’s definitely more.”
Luckily, a knock at the door interrupted their interrogation.
Mason shot to his feet. “Showtime!”
I stayed put, acting like my focus was entirely on cooking my breakfast.
The front door opened, and Mason’s voice echoed through the house. “Welcome home!”
Rowan’s response was quieter, but I still heard him say, “Thanks.”
Footsteps crossed the threshold, and a second later he filled the doorway, a duffel slung over one shoulder and a box in his hands. His eyes snapped straight to me.
I didn’t look away. Rather, I held his stare just long enough to make it clear I wasn’t happy he was here.
“Okay, let me show you around. You can put your stuff in your room, then we’ll get the rest of your things,” Mason offered.
I could hear him continue to expound as he led Rowan through the house.
“Enzo’s got the primary with the attached bath.
Derek and I have the two rooms down the hallway and share the hall bathroom.
You and Keaton have the two rooms near the primary that share the Jack-and-Jill. ”
While Mason played tour guide, Enzo and Derek headed outside. At the door, Enzo turned my way. “You helping?”
I pointed to the skillet on the stove. “Don’t want my eggs to burn.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped through the door. Rowan and Mason weren’t far behind, and I watched through the kitchen window as they walked to the back of the small moving truck.
“Holy shit!” Mason’s voice boomed. “Is that a Ducati?”
Rowan nodded and climbed the ramp. A few seconds later, a red-and-black street bike appeared. Once they got the motorcycle parked in the driveway, it only took them a couple of trips to bring in the rest of his stuff.
I finished my breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and then headed back to my room. It was beginning to feel like someone had it out for me because the second I walked past Rowan’s door, it swung open and he stepped out. We both stopped, and the tension immediately heightened.
“This doesn’t have to be a thing,” he stated, keeping his voice low.
I let out a humorless laugh. “It already is. Since we’re both living here, let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way.”
“Fine.”
I managed not to see him for the rest of the day, but that didn’t mean I stopped thinking about him in the next room.
The next evening, Derek had gone on another date, Enzo was at his parents’ place for dinner, and Rowan was out somewhere. Not that I cared.
Since I had the night off, Mason and I were chilling in the living room, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch with game controllers in our hands.
“You suck at this,” he jabbed.
“Then why am I winning?”
“Barely.” The front door opened, and Mason glanced over his shoulder. “Hey,” he greeted.
Rowan stepped into the living room, taking in the game on the TV before zeroing in on the controller in my hand. “You still play?” he asked.
He sounded genuinely curious, but the question felt like a punch to the gut. Games had been our thing when we were young, and I hated that his words sent me spiraling back in time.
Ten Years Old
Rowan and I had been hanging out for a couple of weeks. Long enough that his mom no longer asked whether my parents knew I was there whenever I came over.
We were sitting cross-legged on his bed, playing Mario Kart.
“Hey, you just hit me with a turtle shell,” I complained, glaring at my screen.
“Duh.” He chuckled. “I’m trying to win.”
“Well, good luck,” I said just before using my lightning bolt to shrink his player.
We kept laughing and trash-talking, and I tried not to think about how I’d never really had a friend to hang out with like this before because there weren’t many kids our age in our neighborhood.
The older ones ignored me, and the younger ones annoyed me.
At school, I had people to talk to and play with at recess, but I never invited anyone over.
I was too embarrassed about what might happen while they were at my house.
But Rowan was the first person I’d let into my home.
Even then, I hadn’t invited him over. He’d just started showing up.
I never let him stay for long, though, and more often than not, I convinced him it would be more fun at his place.
Just as my character crossed the finish line, a shout from my mom cut through the air, coming through Rowan’s open window.
My fingers froze on the buttons, and Rowan paused the game.
Another yell from my father followed, and my stomach dropped, but I kept my attention glued to the screen.
“Unpause it,” I ordered.
I could feel him watching me, but I refused to look at him.
A crash echoed across the narrow path between our houses. It sounded like something had shattered, and my face felt hot.
“Did that come from your house?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I brushed it off, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine.”
“Are your parents fighting?”
“Probably.” I forced my voice to remain flat. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You think I don’t know that you’ve been blowing our money on shit we don’t need and going out with your friends?” Dad’s voice carried over to us.
“Oh, please,” my mom snapped back. “Like you’re any better with all those bar tabs.”
I cringed and stared at my lap. “Please unpause it.”
“Does it happen a lot?” Rowan probed, instead of resuming the game like I wanted.
“Sometimes. It’s worse when they drink.”
Rowan didn’t say anything right away, which somehow made me even more embarrassed.
Then a high-pitched yell from my mother was followed by another crash.
“You bitch! That was my favorite glass!” Dad yelled.
“Guess you’re done drinking tonight,” Mom shouted back.
Rowan finally spoke. “Do you want to stay?”
I blinked. “What?”
“For dinner,” he explained. “I have to ask my mom, but she’ll probably say yes.”
My first instinct was to say no because staying longer than usual would mean admitting I didn’t want to go home. I wasn’t a baby. I just didn’t like watching or hearing my parents fight.
More screaming filled the air, and I flinched before I could stop myself. Rowan must have noticed because he hopped off the bed.
“I’ll go ask.”
When he left the room, I stared out the window.
I could see straight into my room, to the closet where I sometimes hid when things got too loud.
To the posters of my favorite bands, the ones I liked to play loudly so I couldn’t hear my parents.
And now my friend knew what happened over there, and I hated that he might not want to play anymore with the kid whose parents fought a lot.
A couple of minutes later, he came back with his mom.
“Hey, Keaton. Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked.
I nodded. “If that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” She squeezed my shoulder softly. “You’re always welcome here.”
When another shout rang out, her gaze shifted toward the window. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction, but to my surprise, she didn’t say a word or ask questions. She simply stepped closer and rested her hand on my shoulder. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Rowan flopped back onto the bed beside me. “See? I told you she’d be fine with you staying.”
I gave him a small smile, and then we started another race.