9. Rowan
ROWAN
After what just happened, I really shouldn’t be leading Samson into my apartment.
I should be scared of him, I know that. But my mind keeps fixating on the tiny details. How Samson took control of the situation when I froze. The complete lack of fear he exhibited.
Because he knew he’d get us out of it safely.
His threats of violence didn’t worry me as much as they should have. They were on my behalf, after all. Who doesn’t want a man threatening bodily harm to protect them?
Most of all, what has me quietly accepting this part of him is how he stepped away and let the guy go.
Simply because I asked him to.
I drop to my knees to release Nugget from his crate. I messaged Larry on my way home, letting him know I’d be picking the demon dog up shortly. I came here first because I suspected Larry would bring him home for me instead.
The lengths he goes to so as not to interact with me. I’d be offended, but I know he loves me deep down.
Deep, deep, deep down.
“Hey, Nuggs!” I croon. His long body is vibrating as he yaps in excitement. “Did you miss me?”
As soon as the door to his crate is open, my arms are full of wriggling dachshund. He continues yapping loudly. I like to imagine he’s telling me all about his day—the things he’s chewed, the cuddles with Larry.
“I missed you too,” I say, hugging him tightly and scratching behind his ears. “I’m home now, buddy.”
I feel Samson’s presence behind me.
“Nugget is a sausage dog?”
“He is.” I turn so he can see him properly. “Don’t be fooled by his cuteness. He’s a little shit. And beware of your shoes. He will devour them.”
Even I can hear how fond my words are. Samson smirks, reaching out to tickle Nugget under his chin. “Yeah, he seems like real hard work.”
“That’s because he’s luring you in,” I say, pressing a kiss to Nugget’s head. “They’re irresistibly adorable, loyal, and loving…then they poop under your bookcase and put holes in all your socks.”
“Is he being mean to you?” Samson’s the one crooning now, plucking Nugget out of my arms and cradling him against his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
Seeing Samson soften around my dog has the walls around my heart shaking all the way down to their foundations. A lump forms in my throat as he continues to talk to Nugget, stroking him the whole time.
Nugget, meanwhile, is staring at Samson like he’s the most captivating person he’s ever seen.
I know how he feels.
Eventually, Nugget’s usual propensity for trouble kicks in. He’s happy to be cuddled, but on his terms. He wriggles until Samson puts him down, then scampers off merrily in the direction of my bedroom, his little tail waving furiously.
“I thought sausage dogs were bigger,” Samson says.
“He’s a miniature,” I reply. “There’s not much difference between them though, apart from size.
But both versions were originally bred to hunt.
Badgers for the big ones and rats for the small ones.
In World War I they were trained to hunt out land mines.
They were small enough to wriggle under the barbed wire, and they’re super independent and loyal.
Plus, their bark is fucking loud, which I guess is useful on a battlefield. My tiny apartment? Not so much.”
Samson frowns in the direction of my bedroom. “Really? How can something that tiny be loud?”
I roll my eyes. “Just you wait. I swear, half of him must be lungs alone.”
Unsure what to do with myself now, I head into my kitchen and fill my kettle. Most people I know seem to heat water for their tea in the microwave, but not me. My kettle is electric and everything.
I try to ignore how Samson is wandering through my apartment, looking at my things.
He has no shame, taking books off my shelves, opening drawers, and even flicking through the calendar on my wall.
It’s almost like he’s cataloging things, committing things to memory, but for some reason, I don’t mind it.
“Why’s this date got a star on it?”
I glance over to see he’s running a finger along my calendar.
My spine stiffens and I busy myself pulling cups out of a cupboard. A very important task indeed.
“Just because.”
“It’s in four days,” Samson says. “Do you have special plans or something?”
“Or something.” I throw him a breezy smile to cover up the fact my soul feels like it’s tearing in two. It’s very inconvenient, especially because I wanted to engage in relations. Very specific horizontal relations that include dicks. “Tea?”
Thankfully, Samson’s attention shifts away from the calendar. “Do I look like someone who drinks tea? Fucking leaves on branches. Hell no.”
I laugh lightly as I fill two mugs. Chamomile is calming. We could both use that after tonight. “You look like someone who isn’t afraid to try new things. Leaves and all.”
Samson grunts but accepts the cup from me. “It looks like old soil.”
“It’s good for you,” I say, my easy tone shifting to alarm as he lifts the mug to his lips. “But not immediately! Jesus, are you trying to burn yourself?”
He smirks as he lowers the cup. “You’re a bit protective, aren’t you?”
Memories hit me so fast they make me dizzy. A voice I’ve tried both to forget and remember.
“Something’s going on, Rowan.”
“I swear someone’s been following me.”
“I’m fucking scared, man.”
“Can you stay?”
No. I’m not protective. If I were, Adam would still be here.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
I scream and rage against the fog that settles in my mind, but it refuses to part. His voice is all around me, pressing the dense depression closer. It’s suffocating. Filling my lungs. Dragging me under.
Just then, a lifeline. A voice piercing the darkness.
“Breathe, Row. Breathe, baby.”
I cling to it with both hands. I do as he says, sucking in oxygen desperately. It hurts, my lungs screaming. But then again, why am I complaining? Adam will never breathe again.
“That’s it. Again. Again.”
I gasp in air, and the fog starts to dissipate.
“Keep going. Follow my voice. You’ve got this.”
I push my head down and take a step forward. I have got this. I can do this.
“You’re not alone.”
I’m not.
Samson is here.
Light pierces the haze, and I blink. Reality rushes back in so fast it’s startling. I’m on the floor. How the fuck did I get down here?
“There you are.” Samson is on his knees in front of me, one hand cupping my face. His other is cupping Nugget, who is whining and trying desperately to get to me. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“What happened?” I rasp. “Why are my legs wet?”
Oh god, did I pee myself? Horizontal relations won’t happen now.
“You dropped your tea when you collapsed.” Now that he’s mentioned it, I can suddenly feel the stinging on my thighs. Wonderful, but also not at all surprising. “I don’t know what happened. One minute you were here, the next you were somewhere else.”
“Ugh,” I groan. I hold out my hands for Nugget, immediately cuddling him to my chest. He licks my neck, reminding us both that I’m here. I’m safe. “I’m sorry. How embarrassing.”
“Has this happened before?”
My throat thickens and prevents me from speaking, so I just nod.
“Many times?”
I nod again.
Samson’s lips thin. A small wrinkle appears between his brows, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle but can’t quite get the pieces to fit. “Okay, let’s get you up and check how bad the burns are.”
“I’m fine,” I say hastily, smiling to show him just how fine I am. “Honestly, you don’t need to—”
He presses a hand firmly against my mouth, cutting off my protests. “Again, do I look like someone who does anything he doesn’t want to?”
No. He really doesn’t.
He slowly removes his hand. “Just…let me do this. Okay? I don’t like begging. It puts me in a bad mood.”
I think about arguing, but suddenly I’m exhausted. From Samson appearing in my class, to seeing how beloved he was at dinner, to the interaction after, to my…episode, it’s all too much. I can’t cope. Not right now.
I’m used to this feeling. For the last twelve months, it’s been my most steadfast companion. I’ve been facing it alone.
Maybe, just for tonight, I can let someone else face it with me.
Samson takes my silence for agreement. “Here, give me Nugget. I’ll put him in his crate until we get the mug shards cleaned up.”
That’s why he was holding him. Samson was preventing Nugget from getting hurt.
My walls lower a little bit more.
“Give him a treat from the tub on top,” I tell him as I kiss Nugget one last time and pass him over. “He’s very food motivated. He’ll be happy then.”
“Do not move,” he growls as he goes to do that. “I mean it, Row.”
Row. Such a simple nickname, but in this moment, it means the world to me.
When Nugget is safely sequestered, Samson returns to me.
He bends down and sweeps me from the floor.
I’m too numb to be impressed by his strength.
I mean, who am I kidding? I’m a little impressed by his strength, but I’m also fucking tired.
Tired of it all. My head falls against his chest as my eyes drift closed against my will.
The next thing I know, I’m being placed on a soft surface. My bed. Samson gently pushes on my shoulders until I’m lying down.
“What are you doing?” I murmur as his hands go to my waistband. “I’m not sure I’m awake enough for that.”
Samson rolls his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m just checking your burns.”
Oh. The tea. Right.
We both wince as he carefully peels the wet material from my legs. I lift up on my elbows to check out the small red marks. “Not as bad as I thought.”
“Bad enough,” Samson says curtly, disappearing from sight. “Wait there.”
As if I have the energy to do anything else. I stare at the ceiling listlessly as the sounds of Samson rummaging through my bathroom cabinets filter through the air.
“This might sting,” he warns as he reappears.
I hiss as he presses a cool, wet cloth over each thigh. “Fuck.”
“It’ll feel better in a minute,” he soothes. He’s kneeling at my feet, looking at me with a concern that has my chest aching. “I found some aloe with lidocaine that we can use.”