Chapter ten #2
To Marcus’s amazement, Atlas took a tentative step... Then another, until moments later, he’d crossed the threshold without any instruction from Rowan.
Rowans eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. He blinked a couple of times, as if unable to believe what he was seeing. Marcus wanted to shout from the rooftops, but instead, he watched silently to see how Rowan was going to react first.
Rowan’s response was more sedate than Marcus was expecting. First he closed the door, then he lowered down, bending one knee, as if he were about to propose, then slowly he placed his forehead to Atlas’s, whispering words inaudible to Marcus.
Marcus’s breath caught in his throat, and he had to gulp past the lump which had miraculously appeared there.
When Rowan looked up at Marcus, there was no denying the depth of emotion Marcus saw behind his eyes, but like the first few times Marcus had seen Rowan, his face was once again calm and restrained.
Rowan nodded once to Marcus. Marcus clipped the Shih tzu’s lead tighter so he couldn’t jump down from the grooming table, and he took a step towards Atlas.
Dipping his hand in his pocket first, Marcus reached it forward slowly for him to sniff, before offering Atlas a treat.
Atlas took it, chewing it slowly, before swallowing.
Marcus patted him softly. ‘Hello, Atlas. Welcome to Ruff to Regal.’
Atlas moved his head from side to side, as he looked from the Shih tzu, to his owner seated in the waiting area.
As if determining there was no threat, to Rowan’s and Marcus’s astonishment, he took another step into the parlour, sniffing at the pile of wet towels in the laundry basket, before retreating back to Rowan, and sitting at his feet.
Marcus could barely drag his eyes from Atlas, but when he did, he saw the subtlest of quivers on Rowan’s chin.
It was too much. He had to quickly turn away, using the excuse of getting back to the Shih tzu to gain control of his own emotions. ‘Right, young Jack. Let’s get you finished.’
Marcus had just returned to Jack’s curls when the bell above the front door tinkled.
It was not loud. Not usually.
But this time, it came with the sharp scrape of the door being pushed too hard, the sudden bark of a dog on the other side, and a woman’s flustered voice calling, ‘Sorry! Sorry, we’re early. He got away from me in the street.’
A young Labrador burst through the doorway, all paws and excitement, dragging his lead behind him.
Everything happened at once.
Jack, the Shih Tzu, jerked on the grooming table.
His owner gasped from the waiting area.
Marcus reached automatically to steady Jack, his elbow catching the metal water bowl on the edge of the table beside him. It tipped, hit the floor with a ringing clang, then spun across the tiles, rattling louder than something so small had any right to.
The Labrador barked again.
Christine’s salon door opened behind them, and someone called, ‘Is everything all right?’
Then the glass treat jar on the counter trembled from the impact, rolled, and dropped.
It shattered.
The sound cracked through the parlour.
Atlas froze.
Not startled. Not merely frightened.
Frozen.
His body locked so hard, Marcus could see the line of tension running from his shoulders to his tail. His ears shot forward, his head lowered, and his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond all of them, as if the parlour had vanished and something else had taken its place.
Rowan moved instantly.
‘Atlas. With me.’
His voice was low. Controlled. But Marcus heard the change in it. The thread pulled too tight.
Atlas did not move.
The Labrador barked again, excited by the chaos.
‘Get him outside,’ Rowan snapped, not loudly, but with such command that the woman immediately grabbed the trailing lead and backed towards the door.
Marcus’s heart slammed against his ribs.
He clipped Jack’s lead tighter to the table hook, then turned back. Rowan had angled himself in front of Atlas, one hand low, palm open, his body blocking the smashed glass, the barking dog, the doorway, all of it.
‘Atlas. Look at me.’
For a second, nothing happened.
Then Atlas’s eyes flicked.
Only once.
To Rowan.
‘Good. With me.’
Atlas took one stiff step backwards. Then another.
Rowan moved with him, slow and steady, never crowding him, never dragging him. Marcus saw the colour drain from Rowan’s face, saw the muscle jump in his jaw, saw how hard he was fighting to stay present.
This was not only Atlas’s fear.
It was Rowan’s too.
Marcus quickly looked to the Labrador’s owner. ‘Could you wait outside for a moment, please?’ He glanced back at Christine. ‘Christine, can you hold the door?’
Christine appeared at once, calm as anything, ushering the flustered woman and her dog back into the alleyway. ‘Come on, love. Let’s give them a minute.’
The door closed.
The parlour fell into a ringing silence.
Atlas backed until his side pressed against Rowan’s leg. Rowan crouched slowly, placing one hand against Atlas’s chest, the other on his shoulder.
‘Good boy,’ he whispered, but his voice was rough now. ‘Good lad. I’ve got you.’
Marcus stood absolutely still.
He wanted to help. Wanted to sweep the glass, pick up the bowl, apologise, do something useful with his hands. But Rowan had taught him enough by now to know that sometimes help meant not rushing in.
Atlas’s breathing slowed by tiny degrees.
Rowan’s did not.
‘It was too soon,’ Rowan said, so quietly Marcus almost missed it.
Marcus stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. ‘He came inside, Rowan.’
Rowan shook his head. ‘And I put him straight back there.’
‘No.’ Marcus kept his voice gentle. ‘No, you didn’t.’
Rowan looked up then, his eyes dark with something that made Marcus’s chest ache.
‘You got him through it,’ Marcus said. ‘He looked at you. He listened. He came back to you.’
Rowan’s throat worked. ‘He shouldn’t have had to.’
‘But he did. And you were there.’
The words settled between them, soft but certain.
Atlas leaned harder against Rowan, and Rowan closed his eyes for one brief second, his hand curling in the dog’s fur as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping him upright.
Marcus took one more careful step.
‘This wasn’t failure,’ he said. ‘It was a setback. There’s a difference.’
Rowan opened his eyes.
For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them: the shattered glass, the water on the floor, Jack waiting quietly on the table, Christine murmuring outside, the warm damp scent of shampoo and dog fur.
Rowan looked at Marcus as if he wanted to believe him and did not know how.
Marcus reached out, stopping before his fingers touched Rowan’s sleeve.
‘Can I?’
Rowan’s gaze dropped to Marcus’s hand.
Then he nodded.
Marcus touched him lightly, just above the wrist.
It was barely anything.
But Rowan went still beneath his fingers, and Marcus felt the pulse there, fast and unsteady.
‘You’re allowed to be shaken too,’ Marcus said.
Rowan’s eyes lifted to his.
The air changed.
Marcus felt it in the sudden quiet between them, in the way Rowan did not pull away, in the way his gaze dropped for the briefest second to Marcus’s mouth.
Marcus forgot how to breathe.
Then Atlas shifted, pressing his nose into Rowan’s hand, and Rowan blinked as if waking from a dream.
He pulled back.
Not far.
But far enough.
‘Don’t,’ Rowan said quietly.
Marcus’s hand fell to his side. ‘Don’t what?’
Rowan stood, his expression closing piece by careful piece. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
Marcus’s chest tightened. ‘Like what?’
Rowan swallowed.
‘Like I’m someone you’re making room for.’
Marcus barely breathed.
Rowan looked down at Atlas, then back at him.
‘I’m not someone you should make room for.’