Chapter 51
LIAM
I’ve never been one for talking to strangers about anything, let alone my fucking feelings, for Christ’s sake, but if couple’s therapy with Rowan can help cure the pain in my gut every single time I think about her with him, it’ll be worth it.
That fucker has sharp teeth and even sharper claws.
The nightly bleeding out when I’m awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling and wishing I could kill that bastard Murray all over again is starting to wear me down.
Something’s gotta give, and if the cost of that is an hour on a therapist’s couch once a week, then so be it.
Today’s our third session. Siobhan came highly recommended, but I’m still not at the spill-my-guts stage, leaving Rowan to do most of the talking.
Doesn’t mean I’m not listening, though. Just hearing her talk about what she went through, both while we were apart, and after I stole her from that London pub, causes a river of shame to run through me.
Yes, I thought she’d betrayed me, and yes, Murray head-fucked me over and over again, but I should’ve known. I should’ve trusted my gut, trusted Rowan’s love for me to know something was off.
Instead, I spent five years in a hate spiral that, when I stumbled upon her in that pub, spilled out in a vile stream and almost drowned us both.
I kept her strapped to a chair in a warehouse, for fuck’s sake, for two whole days. And even when I brought her back to Ireland, I kept her locked up like a fucking animal.
Rowan’s hand lands on my thigh. “What were you thinking just then?”
I skim her face, so earnest, so fucking forgiving. “What a shite I was to you when I found you in London.”
“Care to expand, Liam?” Siobhan pins me with her gaze.
No. I fucking don’t care to expand. But Rowan deserves more. She deserves me to feel pain for the way I was with her, for every cruel, hurtful thing I said or did. I shift uncomfortably.
“I’m kicking myself for not seeing through the play. I should have known you’d never set me up, never willingly hurt me. And the reason I should’ve known that…” I twist on the couch, locking eyes with my Rebel. “Is because I fucking knew you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Rowan shifts closer, her hands cupping my face, her thumb tracing the scar I believed for years that she’d caused. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you with what I thought I saw. If I had, then none of this would’ve happened. We wouldn’t have lost all those years.”
It’s the second time she’s said something like that.
Once a few weeks ago and now again in front of Siobhan.
Hearing her take the blame sits like a boulder on my chest. It isn’t her fault.
None of this is. It never was. “This is not on you. It’s on me.
I was older, wiser. And if you felt you couldn’t come to me, then that’s my fault, too. ”
Siobhan lets the silence sit the way I’ve noticed she’s proficient in—long enough that you feel it, not so long it becomes uncomfortable.
“I want to stay with what just happened between you both for a moment,” she says, her voice measured.
“It’s significant. You’ve each just taken full responsibility for what went wrong—and done it at the same time, in front of each other.
” She pauses. “What I’d like to gently challenge is the idea that responsibility has to be assigned to one person entirely.
Liam, you say it isn’t on Rowan. Rowan, you say it isn’t on Liam. ”
A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “What if it doesn’t have to live anywhere permanently? What if the more useful question isn’t whose fault? But whether you can both carry what happened without it affecting what you’re building now?”
I stare at Rowan, and she stares at me. Neither of us says anything, Siobhan’s words a heavy weight in my chest. In Rowan’s too, I’d guess.
Damn, she’s good.
Siobhan closes her notebook. “I think that’s a good place to pause today. I’ll see you at the same time next week.”
We break out into the fresh air, both of us taking a deep breath. I pause at the top of the steps. My head’s throbbing, and I feel like I’ve been put through a mincing machine.
“Are you okay?” Rowan asks. “That was… phew. It was a lot.”
“She’s too fucking perceptive for her own good that one,” I mutter.
Rowan chuckles. “That’s kind of her job.”
“Yeah.” I bury my hands in my pockets and look up at the sky. It’s a good day for it. I can’t wait to see Rowan’s reaction to where we’re going next.
“Do you regret agreeing to come?”
“No. Not for a second. I admit, it isn’t easy for me, but it’s what you deserve.”
Her brow furrows. “And what about what you deserve? Don’t you think you’re entitled to peace, to feeling good about yourself?”
I encase her in my arms and press my forehead to hers. “You make me feel good.”
“Liam.” There’s a warning in her tone.
I sigh. “I hear you. Sometimes I do think I’m deserving of peace and self-forgiveness. Other times, I think I’m a bastard who isn’t worthy of you.”
She draws in a deep breath. “And that’s why therapy is a good idea. Because you are worthy of me, Liam. One day, hopefully in the not too distant future, you will believe that. And until you do, I’ll believe it for both of us.”
Fuck. My chest hurts. If I was a good man, I’d let her go, leave her to meet someone who has a normal job with a normal life. But I’m not a good man. “You’re too good for the likes of me. I will ruin you.”
Her lips brush mine. “God, I do hope so. Can we start with the ruining as soon as we get home?”
Despite the lingering pain of therapy, I laugh. “We might have to delay that. There’s somewhere else I want to take you first.”
Curiosity sparkles in her eyes. “Oh, yeah? Color me intrigued.”
I get her situated in the car and jump into the driver’s seat.
Our destination is a thirty-minute car journey away, and the entire time, Rowan peppers me with questions.
I answer none. A man like me is well trained in resisting torture, whether that’s at the pointy end of a blade, the barrel of a gun, or when their woman is dying to know what’s going on.
The second I turn into the airfield, Rowan lets out a squeal that almost punctures my ear drum.
“Oh, my God. We’re not? We are? What’s going on? What made you change your mind?”
I pull into a parking spot and kill the engine. “Which one of those questions shall I answer first?”
“All of them!”
I laugh, unhooking my seat belt and climbing out of the car. Rowan races after me, her cheeks pink with excitement.
“You’re really going to let me skydive?”
It’s something she’d always wanted to do, but I wouldn’t let her. Not because it’s a dangerous activity; it’s incredibly safe. More because the idea of her being strapped to someone that isn’t me wasn’t something I could tolerate then. And I still can’t tolerate it now.
“Yes.”
“But… but… you always said no.” She lightly punches me on the arm. “Because you’re a jealous arse.”
“I am jealous. Then, and now.” I hesitate, curious how she’ll take this. “Which is why I qualified as a tandem skydiving instructor.”
Her jaw drops. “What? When?”
“About a year ago.”
“But why?”
I grimace. “If I’m being honest, I did it as a sort of ‘fuck you.’ Knowing that it was something you’d always wanted to do and I wouldn’t let you, yet there I was out here doing jump after jump. Living the dream you’d had, and one I’d stopped you from pursuing.”
I look away the moment the words are out, shame and bitterness and, yes, a feeling of loss consuming me. “I’m not proud of it. Not now I know the truth.”
“Liam.” She touches my chin, turning me to face her. Once I do, she threads her arms around my neck and lays her cheek on my chest, right over my heart. “I love you.”
Something turns over in my stomach, slow and warm and comforting. “Let’s see if you still feel that way after the dive.”
“It’s guaranteed.” She squeals again, jumping up and down on the spot. “This is going to be epic.”
After I’ve checked our harnesses, I go over the instructions. Rowan listens intently, all trace of humor gone. Once we’re suited up, we dander over to the plane.
“Anything else you want to ask me?”
“No.”
“You can change your mind right up to the moment we jump.”
She shakes her head. “Not going to happen.”
It takes us fifteen minutes to reach jump altitude. I hook us together and shuffle us over to the open door.
“Last chance,” I shout in Rowan’s ear.
“I’m ready,” she shouts back.
With a soft kiss on the back of her neck, I jump.
Adrenaline rushes through me as the wind whistles past. It’s too noisy to talk during freefall, but I use the hand signals I taught Rowan on the ground to communicate with her. She sticks her thumbs up to let me know she’s understood.
Around fifty seconds after jumping out of the plane, I deploy the parachute. The noise level drops significantly, allowing me to talk to Rowan for the first time.
“Doing okay there, Rebel?”
“It’s incredible. Incredible. I want to do it again.”
I laugh. “Let’s get down to the ground first. Just enjoy the view.”
As the ground approaches, I flare the parachute to slow our forward motion. “Lift your legs, mo rún.”
She does, and I take us into a sliding touchdown. I immediately unhook the four main anchor points and help Rowan to her feet. Her knees buckle, and she grabs on to me.
“Steady. That’ll be the adrenaline.”
Her cheeks are a bright red from the wind, and her eyes are shining. “That was the best experience of my life. I’m hooked. Hooked. When can we do it again?”
I chuckle. “Look at you, my little Rebel.”
“I mean it. I could do that every single day for the rest of my life.” She spins around, dancing among the grass, arms splayed wide and her face turned up to the sun. My heart damn near punches through my chest. She’s magnificent, beautiful, smart, funny. My Rebel. My woman. Mo rún.
I unzip one of the pockets on my suit and feel inside for the ring.
Rowan’s still facing away from me when I open the box and drop to one knee, holding it in front of me.
When she turns around, it takes her a moment to absorb what her eyes are telling her.
Both hands fly up to cover her mouth and a muffled “Oh, my God” comes out.
“Rowan Byrne, you’re my heart, my soul, my one true love. I have many faults, but being with you makes me want to try to be a better man. One thing I can guarantee is that I will never stop trying to be the man you deserve. So, all that said… will you marry me?”
Her knees hit the ground, tears streaming down her face. Could be from the wind, but I don’t think they are. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”
I slide the ring onto her finger and pull her into my arms, kissing her. She’s mine. All mine. And no one will ever separate us again.