Chapter Twenty-four
Luca
Sometimes our bodies overtake our minds and emotions, and for me, that was fucking Rowan, even though I’m still angry at her.
I wanted to bring her to the brink of an orgasm and leave her yearning and mad on the bed, make her feel like she makes me feel when she lies to me, but having her give herself to me, I was on cloud nine when Rowan and I were finished having sex.
Her entrusting me with a part of her that was used and abused, for me to love and worship it, meant more to me than I think she’d ever know—even smothering out my anger for her.
But it was short-lived. Getting the call from Matteo rocked me.
Knowing Clover tried to take her own life because of sick fucking people, it could be Rowan.
Fuck, it was Rowan before we met. That was her endgame, but God had other plans for her… Me.
The memories, trauma, and scars these women carry around are heavy, ones I can’t fathom. I can’t damn Clover for trying to end her life and pain, but I can only pray she sees she can overcome it all.
Matteo’s voice on the other end of the line was defeated. I’m not sure how Rowan can help, but maybe having someone to talk to who has been in a situation like hers can help Clover talk.
Turning on the light in my office, stepping through the threshold, it feels heavy immediately. My face scowls and my hackles rise as I walk to my desk. Zeroing in on the contents of it, my eyes scanning for anything out of place, but it’s all where it’s supposed to be.
I drop into my desk chair and turn on my laptop. I need to check all the cameras. I have alerts on my phone, but not for the cameras on the outskirts of the property. Shit's felt off for a while now, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint what is going on.
The only good thing about Rowan going to the funeral home to talk to Clover is that I can have a day or two alone here. Maybe if I make it look like I’m also gone with her, I can stake the place out because something is off.
Moving my cursor, I click the file, opening the videos that have been saved from the cameras over the last seventy-two hours. Scrolling through them, all I see are deer and a few other animals.
I stop when I spot a still of Roxy. “What the fuck are you doing way out there?”
Clicking the picture, the video plays. It was the day we were all searching for Rowan.
Roxy stops, looking around. She sniffs the ground for a few seconds, then her head jerks up, ears perked.
My eyebrows are to my hairline with how hard I have raised them, perplexed.
And then she steps out of frame to the side of the property.
I clicked on the other cameras, but don’t see her in any of the stills.
“Where the hell did you go?” I scroll through them all, but nothing pops out. Nor does anything else catch my eye.
With a kick, I spin my chair around to look out the window; the darkness outside greets me.
I want to head out there now, but I know Rowan would ask what was up, and I want to give her answers to her questions, plus I don’t even know what is up.
It could be nothing, but my gut is telling me something is going on. Just what I don’t know.
I sit there replaying the flight back home, the fear and anger that were coursing through me, feeling it bubble back up again now that my head is back to normal and not riddled with arousal.
“Hey.”
I smile when I hear her voice before turning around.
She’s leaned up against the door frame, clothed in nothing but my T-shirt.
“I’m fixing to make something to eat, you hungry?
” I can still see she doesn’t know how to act around our fight, but I nod my head.
“Please.” And with that, my stomach growls, letting me know, yes, we want to eat.
“Meet me downstairs.” She pushes off the frame and heads downstairs.
In seconds, I’m following her. “Rowan.”
She stops at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me. “Yeah?”
With each step, I let out a word. “I’m sorry, but please stop lying to me.” I lumber to her as her eyes look up to me.
“Then know I have stuff I have to do, Luca.” Her hands rub down my biceps.
“Baby, I can’t let you do them,” I tell her honestly.
She lets out a laugh and turns away, walking to the kitchen, busying herself with getting dinner prepped. I want to shake her. She’s infuriating and pissing me off.
“Hmm.” She stops.
“What?” Walking to the island, I watch her.
“Did you throw out the steaks that were in here?” She looks at me, confused as to why I would.
“No. Those fuckers were expensive,” I tell her, making my way to the refrigerator, looking inside, trying to spot them, but they’re gone.
“What the hell?” She pushes me out of the way with her hip, riffling inside. Moving containers as if they’re going to pop out.
We both look at one another, knowing what the other one is thinking; she says it before I can. “Someone’s been here,” she says, glancing around the house, waiting for someone to jump out.
I stand up straighter. “There is no way. They’d be on video and we have Roxy,” I say, pointing to the not-so-guard dog lying on the step of the kitchen. Her ears perk up, but she moves nothing else. I just shake my head.
Opting for salad, she grabs the dressing. “Luca, it’s been feeling off. Shits been weird for a long while.” She pauses and looks at me with fearful eyes. “What if they’re back?” She doesn’t have to elaborate; I know who she’s speaking of.
“Baby, they're not.”
“Then who!?” I watch her pace around the kitchen, grabbing what she needs, her body not allowing her to stay still.
Once she stops, her face monotone, “I’m missing something that was in the house. It’s now gone.” She won't look at me as she pours Italian dressing on her salad.
“What is it?”
Placing the bottle on the counter a little too hard, “You know, the night of the fire pit incident, Roxy found a leather glove in the bushes. It freaked me out, but I didn’t want you to put me on lockdown.
I hid it underneath the guest bedroom mattress.
” Pausing, she takes a breath. “Not the one Weeks is in, but the other one. I went to look for it when we got back, and Luca, it’s gone.
” She plays with the bowl of salad, but then pushes it away. “I can’t eat right now.”
I stand there, perplexed, and I can’t help but let out a laugh; it has nothing to do with something funny.
I don’t fucking understand her. “You put us all at risk because you don’t want to be put on lockdown.
Do you understand how that sounds? It’s as if you don’t give a shit about our safety, as long as you get to go and fuck shit up.
” My words are angry, and I honestly don’t give a shit.
The constant shift in her, the whiplash she puts me through.
I’ve tried to be patient, understanding, and supportive, but this has really taken the cake.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight; you can have the bedroom. Matteo should have someone here in the morning to pick you up and take you to the funeral home.” I’m going to call Weeks as soon as I get in there. Everything in me wants to scream at her, but I won't let myself.
Her mouth opens, but she shuts it, knowing better. I’m at my wits' end with her.
I slam the guest room door shut as I simultaneously pull out my cell phone. It only rings once. “Have someone get Rowan as soon as possible.” I don’t give Weeks enough time to greet me.
“Yeah, okay. You good?” His words echo, but I don’t ask him where he is. Because I really don’t care.
I fall onto the bed, looking down at the hardwood floor.
“No, I’m not. Weeks, all she does is lie.
I never know what is coming out of her mouth, if it’s true or not.
How the hell can I be with someone like that?
” My words spill out before I can even clamp my mouth shut; the realization of what I just said hits me like a freight train. Do I want to be with Rowan?
“Hey, Luca, Brother. It’s just a tough patch right now. Don’t do something you’ll regret. Believe me.” He now sounds clearer.
“Can you please just make sure someone is here in the morning?”
Weeks sighs. “Of course.”
With that, I hang up the phone and place it on the nightstand.
I don’t sleep. When I feel like I barely doze off, I jump awake, like I’m falling. So, I lie awake, every scenario running through my mind.
If I end this, where will she go? Fuck, where would I go? But I don’t want to end this; I want her. I need her. She is the air I fill my lungs with, and without her, I’m deprived of oxygen.
Fumbling in the dark, I open my text messages and click the one that never got a response.
*I could really use your help right now, Dad.
I wait a few minutes, but nothing still.
*I didn’t die when they did. I’m still here.
Still no response. Honestly, I’m not surprised.
Because it is true, from the moment Lauren was murdered and my mother died, I lost him as a father.
A man I’ve always looked up to is disappearing from my life.
He couldn’t have stayed for me. I wasn’t enough for him to stay.
Even though I am a man, I still need what family I have left.
To feel loved and wanted. And my father didn’t do any of those things.
I think that is why with Rowan it hurts and pisses me off so badly.
I want to build a life with her. We become our own family with our chosen friends as an extension of that, but I feel like she’s not there.
I’m not sure if she’ll ever get there. I was alone before her, and I can be alone after her, but I don’t want to be alone anymore.
That’s not something I strive for. If anything, I want my home to be filled with noise and people.
I want to surround myself with them… With Rowan. It isn’t a want; it’s more of a need.