Chapter 6
six
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
I don’t sleep a wink all night, tossing and turning until my sheets are twisted around my legs. By the time the sun is cracking over the horizon, I’ve given up.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed with my sketchbook, I furiously draw a series of dark, jagged lines that somehow form the shape of a face I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
The rumble of the car pulling into our driveway around four in the afternoon makes my stomach drop.
Slamming my sketchbook shut, I toss it under my bed and snatch a book from my nightstand instead. Maybe if I just ignore what’s going on downstairs, I can avoid this whole awkward reunion for a little while longer.
The front door slams with a bang, reverberating the floorboards.
My heart pounds when I hear voices downstairs. Dad’s deep, rumbling laugh, Logan’s excited chatter, followed by another baritone voice I don’t recognize.
Despite dreading this moment for the last twenty-four hours, nothing could have prepared me for the reality of knowing Rowan is in my house, right downstairs.
“Hey, Lizzy! We’re back!” Logan’s voice calls up the stairs.
My heart stutters in my chest as I set my book aside. For a split second, I consider pretending I don’t hear them, but that would only delay the inevitable.
Taking a deep breath, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand on wobbly legs. The walk to my bedroom door feels like an eternity.
Each step feels heavier than the last. I can hear them talking in the living room, their voices growing louder with every step I take, gripping the railing like it’s the only thing that’ll keep me upright.
Finally, I round the corner.
Holy. Shit.
Unable to form words, much less any rational thought, I stand frozen as I take Rowan in from head to toe. The boy I once knew is gone. In his place stands a man who makes my mouth water.
Broad shoulders fill out his faded black T-shirt in a way that should be considered illegal. He looks like a model on the cover of a magazine with his perfectly worn jeans.
His arms—Jesus, where has he been working out? Planet ‘We Make Men Into Gods’ Fitness?—are stretching the sleeves of his shirt to capacity. His hair, still that same tousled caramel-brown, is purposefully styled in a casual, sexy mess.
When I finally drag my eyes back up to his face, he’s looking at me, full lips lifted in a cocky smirk. Hazel eyes, void of the spark I once knew, burn into mine, sending heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Hey, Iz.” His voice is like warm honey—deep, rich, and sexy as hell.
Beyond the physical, there’s something different about him.
The Rowan I knew was bright, full of laughter and mischief.
This version of him seems darker. There’s a haunted weariness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a guarded look that makes me wonder what else has happened in the years since I’ve seen him last.
The air between us feels charged, heavy.
I don’t know how the fuck I manage to form words, but by some miracle I do. “Hey,” I squeak, my vocal cords betraying me before I clear my throat. “Welcome back. Nice to see you, Rowan.”
Rowan’s eyes flicker with surprise, maybe even hurt, and I think I know why.
I can’t remember the last time I called him by his full name, if ever.
It’s always been Ro. But right now, in this moment, it feels much too intimate.
Much too familiar for someone who’s been nothing but a ghost to me. Come to think of it, he did ghost me.
Already backing away from a moment that feels way too big, too overwhelming, I gesture vaguely toward the stairs. “I’m... gonna go.”
No one tries to stop me as I turn and climb the stairs, each step taking me further away from the stranger who looks like a grown-up, colder version of my childhood friend.
My heart is pounding so hard I swear the stars can hear it.
When I finally get to my room, I close the door with a quiet click, releasing a shuttered breath as I slide against it to sit on the floor.
What the hell just happened? How can Rowan show up looking like... that? Throwing out a casual “Hey, Iz.” as if no time has passed at all?
My brother’s voice floats up from downstairs. “Come on, let me show you your room.”
Heavy footsteps echo on the stairs before they move past my door and down the hall. I hold my breath until I hear the guest room door open and close before I finally let it go.
This is really happening.
I push myself up from the floor, collapse onto my bed, and stare up at the ceiling. Right now, the worst part of all this is how hot he looks. How the sight of him makes my stupid heart skip a beat. I should be over him by now, for shit’s sake.
The muffled sounds of Logan’s animated voice and Rowan’s deeper baritone responding drift down the hall and under my door.
Glancing over at the photo, now back in its original place on my desk, I whisper to the boy looking back at me with a bright, happy smile.
“Who are you? Where’s the sweet boy I used to know?”
After dinner, I retreat back to my room, mumbling an excuse about homework. The truth is, I can’t handle another minute watching Rowan charm my parents with stories about Ireland while Logan hangs on his every word. The way my mom laughs at his jokes makes my stomach hurt.
Climbing onto my bed, I grab my worn copy of “Sea Swept,” hoping a Nora Roberts novel will take my mind off the boy turned man downstairs.
A little while later, the floor creaks and I look up from my book in surprise to see Rowan leaning against my doorway.
“What do you want?”
Pinning me with a dark stare, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“Open the door, Rowan. My mom is gonna freak if she catches you in here alone with me.”
Pushing off the door, he saunters over to my side of the bed. “And why is that? You bring a lot of boys over, Iz? Sneak them into your room late at night?”
My heart is practically beating out of my chest. “No. Of course not.”
“You sure?” He glances down to where my braless boobs are straining against my T-shirt with a smirk. “You still a virgin, Iz?”
My blood boils, and I jump off the bed to slap him, but he catches my wrist before my hand can connect with his smug, sexy face.
“Ah, so that’s a yes then.”
“Screw you!”
“Maybe,” he shrugs before bending down to whisper in my ear. “If you’re lucky.”
I suck in a breath, shocked at this new version of Rowan I’ve never encountered before.
He chuckles as he straightens and backs away, giving me another lethal smirk before turning to stroll out the door. A sob threatens to burst from my throat as I rush across the room, slam my door shut and lock it.
Heart jackhammering against my ribs like they’re made of concrete, I throw myself onto my bed and cry until my tear ducts have nothing left to give.