Chapter Thirty-Four
Rowan
Lou wakes me up by lightly tapping his paw on my cheek. Squinting open one eye, I see him perched on my chest, tail curled around his feet, staring intently at me.
Meow.
“I’m getting you an automatic feeder for Christmas,” I grumble. Is this a cat thing or just strictly this cat?
He leaps from my chest to the floor, trotting into the hall, tail flicking as he goes. I roll to my side and find Alicia still sleeping. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, I carefully slide from the bed and pull my sweats on before making my way to feed the gremlin.
When I enter the kitchen, there’s an empty bottle of Scotch on the counter with the plastic seal next to it.
Shite. If she drank all that, she’s going to be in ribbons when she wakes.
After feeding Lou, I rifle through the cupboards, finding a bottle of aspirin and the fixings for coffee, two things that I know Alicia will not only be wanting, but needing something fierce.
Once the coffee is brewing, I rummage through her fridge, wishing she had the makings for a full Irish breakfast. Nothing cures a hangover better than a fry up.
And you have to have it all: fried eggs, sausage, rashers, black and white pudding, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, and, of course, bread to sop up whatever is left on the plate.
The closest thing I find is a carton of eggs, pound of bacon, and sandwich bread. That will have to do.
I start the coffee then go about fixing breakfast. Once the bacon is nice and crispy, I crack the eggs into the grease. The team trainer would have an absolute conniption over that, but we’re doing this proper like. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Lou winds between my legs, purring loudly.
“I see what you’re doing, ya cute hoor,” I tell the cat, narrowing my eyes at him. “Tryin’ to act like you’re nothing but sweet so that I’ll fill your bowl up again. Well you’re meowing up the wrong tree, mate.”
“Did you just call my cat a whore?”
My head snaps up, eyes locking on Alicia. My t-shirt is massive on her lithe frame, the hem reaching mid-thigh. On any other day, I’d be putting my hands on her, but that’s not what she needs today.
“Mornin’, love,” I greet her, keeping my voice soft. “How are ya feelin’?”
She grimaces. “Like the biggest pile of shit that’s been run over by a semi and a school bus back to back.”
I blink. “That’s…oddly specific.”
“Yeah.” She fidgets with the bottom of the shirt until Lou starts rubbing against her legs. “So, did you call my cat a whore?”
“Hoor,” I repeat, pronouncing it slowly. “H-O-O-R. A ‘cute hoor’ is someone that’s sneaky or able to manipulate a situation to get what they want. Ergo, that wee bastard at your feet.”
One corner of Alicia’s mouth tips up in what I think is the start of a smile. “That tracks. He can be a conniving little shit.”
I nod, proud of myself for catching on to his wily cat ways, then snag the aspirin fished from the bottle earlier and a glass of water. “Here.” I step out of the kitchen to meet her where she stands. “Take these while I get you some coffee. Then you’re going to eat something before we talk.”
She lifts a brow, her expression falling somewhere between amused and irritated. “You think so?”
“Aye, I do. Now, go sit.”
* * *
“Fuck, love.” I rub a palm over my beard, though I’d rather use these hands to throttle Alicia’s father, the fucker.
We ate breakfast in silence, but once the table was cleared and dishes put in the dishwasher, I pulled Alicia down on the sofa with me and wrapped my arms around her as she told me everything. I watch as her shoulders droop further and further the more she talks.
“I’ll go talk to him. Or hit him,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “Whichever will make you feel better.”
“No, I don’t want you to do either of those,” she says wearily, unfolding her legs to rise from the sofa. She pads down the hall to her room, so I follow suit.
“What are you going to do about the money?” I ask carefully, watching as she moves around the room, picking up random clothes littering the floor. “That’s theft, Li, and he needs to be reported.”
“What good will that do? I won’t see that money again.” She slides the closet door open, and stares down at the small safe she keeps tucked away there.
“It will at least put his arse back in jail, won’t it?” I step behind her, brushing the backs of my fingers down her arms. “He can’t bother you behind bars, yeah?”
“I guess.”
These non-answers are going to drive me mental. I understand she’s going through a sort of grieving process, but this gobshite committed a felony. I have no idea what she needs. Even if I gave her every cent I own, it’s not going to fix the gaping hole in her chest right now.
“What is it you want, love?”
“I don’t know, Rowan!” She sobs, throwing her hands in the air before turning to lean on the wall beside the closet. Then in a listless voice, she lets another wall down. “I don’t know. I’m so tired. My heart hurts, my brain hurts, my body hurts. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
”What do you mean?” The warning bells are going off, urging me to pay attention.
Her head falls back against the wall, eyes closed. Tears streaking down her porcelain skin. “Do you ever feel like you just want to go to sleep and never wake up? Just drift off into the void, or whatever it is out there, just so you can finally rest?”
Fuck.
“I can’t even say that I miss when life was easier because mine has always been one giant clusterfuck.
I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t providing for someone else.
Even before I was the sole provider for my sister, I was picking up after my parents because they were too drunk or high to take care of themselves, let alone us. ”
My fucking heart squeezes in my chest at her admission.
I’ve lived the life she’s describing. To think my wild rose had to endure a similar childhood guts me.
But it explains so much—both her anger and how she freezes people out.
She’s never had a single person to rely on in her entire life. That ends now.
“It will never be enough,” she whispers. “I’ll never be enough.”
“Alicia,” I start.
“You should go,” she blurts out, refusing to look at me.
She’s reinforcing her walls, trying to keep me out.
“Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter, because you want to. I can see it in your face,” she counters, her accusation completely coming out of left field.
I scoff. “Yeah? Hard to see what’s on my face when you won’t even look at me.”
She finally flicks her gaze to mine, and I’m met with cold, blue eyes.
If I hadn’t spent so much time studying her face, I’d almost believe her, but the fact that she can’t maintain eye contact for longer than a couple of seconds is enough for me to know she’s angling for an excuse to fight.
It will be easier for her to shut down and avoid the hard parts if she can get me to spar with her.
If this is what she needs to expel the anger bubbling in her veins, I’ll give it to her.
“Go on,” I sneer, crossing my arms over my chest. “Tell me what else you can read on my face. Look me in the eye and tell me exactly what it is you think I’m feeling.”
“Don’t be an asshole.” She tries to storm past, but I snatch her arm, yanking her back to trap her between my body and the wall. I take hold of her wrists with both hands and pin them to my bare chest.
“Same ol’ song and dance, isn’t it, darlin’?”
“If you mean the part where you get tired of being in one place for too long and leave to find a new pussy to fuck, then yeah.”
A derisive laugh bursts from me and I press closer.
“Aye, I’m the one that leaves, am I? Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one that left in the middle of the night and refused to speak to you for months on end.
As far as finding another pussy, you should know that yours is the only one I’ve touched, tasted, and fucked in two bloody years! Two years, Alicia.”
Fresh tears roll down her cheeks as the ice in her eyes begins to thaw.
They give way to a choked sob as she speaks.
“Why? I’m nothing, Rowan. Useless. I have nothing to show for my life other than the ability to mix drinks.
I have nothing to offer anyone, so what’s the point of even trying anymore? ”
I can’t handle her taking shots at herself, and while I want to raise my voice, I don’t think that will help her at all, so I press my forehead to hers. “Alicia, stop.”