Fifteen
Rowan
There’s a six-foot-three psychiatrist currently locked in my bedroom.
It’s not a sentence I ever anticipated incorporating into my Wednesday morning routine, but life is funny like that.
The door is shut. Good.
Hudson is behind it. Also good.
The fact that I shoved him in there with both hands and hissed at him not to breathe is less good, but I’ll deal with the moral implications of holding a doctor hostage later.
“Are you sure you got your head checked out? You hate urgent care,” Piper says, sitting on the sofa.
“I also hate brain bleeds,” I reply dryly. “Standard head injury protocol, Pipes. They checked my eyes, told me I have a thick skull, and sent me home. I’m fine.”
Piper turns, her eyes sweeping over me. Madison assesses your flaws out loud, and Noah asks direct questions, but Piper lets you wonder how much of your soul she’s reading.
Suddenly, I’m hyperaware that Hudson is standing on the other side of my drywall.
I love my sister, but I need to get rid of her.
“You’re being weird,” she says.
“I am?”
“You’re jittery.” She studies me for another long minute before she puts me out of my misery and moves on. “Anyway, I brought these. Madison dropped them off at my apartment last night and told me we have twenty-four hours to render a verdict.”
She reaches into the bag and pulls out three strips of fabric, spreading them across the coffee table.
I stare at them. “What are those?”
“Swatches for bridesmaid dresses.”
Yeah, let’s just sit here and discuss bridesmaid dresses like I’m not currently dying inside.
“Oh.” I ease myself into the armchair across from her.
Piper holds up a swatch. “Madison likes this blush one.”
“Nice.”
She holds up two more. They look identical.
“Is this a trick? They’re the same color.”
“One is dusty rose,” she explains patiently. “The other is mauve.”
“I work with colors for a living. Those are the same.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just pick one.”
I point to the one on the left. I’ll wear any color she wants if it means she’ll leave faster. “People died so women could vote, and now we’re being forced to distinguish dusty rose from mauve.”
Piper bursts out laughing, and it feels good to see it.
For three years, seeing Piper smile felt like watching someone perform a parlor trick.
She’d do it when expected, nod at the right moments, and sit at family dinners while her ex practically erased her.
But then she went and fell in love with our brother’s best friend, and it suits her.
“How’s Griffin?” I ask.
Her laughter softens into a warm smile.
“Disgusting,” I tease, gesturing at her flushed cheeks.
“What?”
“Your face. You went all dreamy.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve been busy.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “You’ve been having sex like rabbits, haven’t you?”
“Rowan!”
“I’m right!” I grin, the victory making me forget my headache and the man in my bedroom.
“Can we please talk about bridesmaid dresses?”
“No. This is more entertaining.”
She grabs the mauve swatch and hurls it at me. I catch it against my chest, chuckling as I toss it back.
Her eyes fix on my forehead again, her smile fading. “You really scared me when you opened the door today, Ro. Your face looks terrible.”
“Thank you again.”
“You know what I mean.” She reaches across the gap between our chairs and gently squeezes my knee. “You would’ve called me if it was serious, right?”
The lie catches in the back of my throat. Because I didn’t call her. It was serious enough for an ambulance and a CT scan.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing the word out. “Of course I would.”
Piper nods. “Okay.”
The guilt stings more than the bruise on my face.
“I’m fine. Just busy.” I push myself up from the chair. “Now, I love you, I do, but if you don’t mind, I need you to leave before I get lazy. I’ve got work to do.”
Piper gathers the swatches and stands, but instead of walking toward the door, she tilts her head and examines me.
I try not to squirm.
“You know what?” Piper says slowly. “I know you’re busy, but you can take a couple of minutes out of your day for me, right? We should have some tea.”
Are you fucking serious right now, Piper?
I force a smile. “Sure.”
I hurry to the kitchen and fill the kettle at the sink.
Hudson is going to kill me. He probably has lives to save today, and he’s stuck in my bedroom.
Yep, first he’s going to kick me out of group therapy, I won’t be able to paint anything and have to cancel my show, then he’ll kill me.
I wonder how he’ll do it. I hope it’s fast.
“Peppermint okay?” I call out over my shoulder.
No response.
“Piper?”
I set the tea tin down and turn around. The living room is empty.
A spike of dread shoots through me. I rush out of the kitchen and freeze at the mouth of the hallway. Piper is standing outside my bedroom, her hand inches from the doorknob.
“Piper, don’t!”
She snaps her head around, her hand hovering over the handle. “You’ve been acting weird since I got here.”
“I have a concussion.”
“You keep staring at your bedroom door. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you get a puppy without telling me?”
I lunge toward her, but my hip hitches and I stumble.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m too late. She pushes the door wide open.
Standing inside, looking confused, vaguely guilty, and entirely too large for the room, is Hudson.
Piper lets out an ear-piercing scream. “Rowan, run!”
She grabs a heavy book from the shelf beside the door and raises it over her head.
Piper is screaming, I’m waving my arms, and Hudson is standing there like a statue that just realized it’s in the wrong museum.
“Stop it! Jesus Christ, stop it, woman! Drop the book!” I shout, grabbing Piper’s shoulders and shaking her. “Will you get a grip? It’s Hudson!”
She freezes, the book still raised mid-air. Her gaze travels from Hudson’s shoes up to his bewildered face.
“Oh.” Her finger points between us. “W-what are you doing in my sister’s bedroom?”
I look at Hudson. He looks at me.
I can see the sensible explanation forming in his doctor-brain, but my mind goes straight for word-vomit.
“We’re having mind-blowing sex!”
Hudson chokes.
“But you can’t say anything,” I continue, the lie gaining speed like a runaway train. “Because Madison and Beckett will get weird. Look at my head. The sex is so wild, he drove me through the headboard.”
Piper’s mouth falls open.
Hudson stops coughing long enough to step out of the bedroom, smoothing his sweater with a remarkably steady hand.
“Hi, Piper,” he says, his voice smooth. “Please excuse your sister. She’s obviously experiencing a severe brain injury, none of which has anything to do with me or the furniture.”
He meets my eyes, and for a second, I catch a flash of dark amusement in his expression.
“We happened to be in the same place when Rowan fell. I was just checking in. Medically.”
Piper points a finger at me. “You told me you fell in the studio.”
“I had a man hiding in my bedroom. It was the best I could come up with.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “But why was he in your bedroom?”
“Because I thought you’d think we were having mind-blowing sex!”
The what-the-fuck look she gives me is enough to know I messed up.
“Rowan, I thought he was an intruder. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind until you brought it up.”
Seeing his opportunity to escape, Hudson steps between us toward the entryway. “I’d… better go. Ice your head, Rowan. Seriously.” He gives Piper a polite nod. “Nice to see you again.”
I offer a weak smile and walk him to the door. As he steps past me, he leans down, his breath warm against my ear.
“Mind-blowing, huh?” His voice vibrates against my skin, making me shiver. “Good to know I have a reputation to live up to.”
Before I can slap him, he’s out the door.
I close it and spin around.
“You,” Piper says, pointing a finger at me, “have so much explaining to do.”
∞∞∞
“You had a man locked in your bedroom! Actually, scratch that. You had Hudson locked in your bedroom.” Piper is saying all those words, but she’s still frowning.
“Why do you look disappointed?”
“I thought it was a puppy,” she pouts.
I grab her shoulders. “A puppy is such a good idea. We should totally go to the shelter right now.”
I try to step past her, but she catches my wrist. “You’re not getting away that easily. Explain.”
“It was a soft lock. He could leave anytime.” I step back toward the refrigerator. “Water? Orange juice?”
“Turn around, Rowan.”
“I’m thirsty.”
“You told me five minutes ago that Hudson gave you a concussion during sex.”
I close the refrigerator and rest my forehead against it for a long, pathetic moment before facing her. “I panicked.”
“You panicked… sexually?”
“I didn’t know what to do.” I point at her when her cheeks start to shake. “Don’t you dare.”
“You said—” She gasps, drawing in air. “You said he drove you through the headboard. He’s a psychiatrist, Rowan!”
“I fail to see how his medical degree limits his physical capabilities.”
Why am I defending him right now?
“I panicked,” I repeat, hoping she drops it. “I don’t know what else to say.”
She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “You could have told me before I thought he was trying to kill us.”
“That occurred to me in hindsight.”
A dry chuckle slips out before I can stop it. I wince and press two fingers to my temple.
The humor vanishes from Piper’s face.
“I’m fine,” I say, easing onto a barstool. “Concussion, remember?”
Seconds later, my phone buzzes on the counter. Piper’s eyes flick to the screen.
“Is that him?” she asks. “Give it here.”
“I’d rather swallow glass.” I snatch the device and slide it under my thigh.
“You like him.”
“I don’t like him. I’m protecting my right to privacy.”
“From me? You once sent me a photo of a mystery rash on your ass cheek.”
“I thought I was dying!”
She steps closer, bracing both hands on either side of me, caging me in for the interrogation. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“No!”
“Then why were you hiding him? Why is a man you’re not sleeping with in your house this early?”
My hand tightens around my phone. I’m out of deflections.
“Where did you really fall yesterday?” she asks, searching my face. “You said the studio, but you didn’t, did you?”
I look down at my phone. “Westbrook Medical Center.”
Her forehead creases. “A medical center? What were you doing there?”
I take a deep breath. “I was going to group therapy.”
Piper pulls out a stool, sits down, and waits. A few years ago, she would have babbled to fill the silence, terrified of making anyone uncomfortable. Now she just sits there, giving me the space I need to hand over the truth.
“I have hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome,” I say, the words tasting like chalk on my tongue. “And POTS.”
“W-what are those? What’s… POTS?”
“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome.”
Her hands ball into tight fists in her lap. “What does that mean?”
“It means my connective tissue is basically wet tissue paper, my autonomic nervous system loses its mind when I’m upright, and my joints dislocate way too easily.
” I keep my tone light to shield myself from the look on her face.
“It’s why I fell yesterday. My heart rate spiked, my blood pressure dropped, and I passed out. ”
The color drains from her face.
“Piper, it’s fine. I promise.”
“And Hudson?” she asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“He was there. He caught the tail end of it and called paramedics. He stayed at the ER until I was ready to go home, then came back this morning to make sure I wasn’t dying.”
Piper sits frozen. I can see the math happening behind her eyes—all the missed family dinners, early exits, subtle limps, and guarded answers clicking together.
“How long?” she asks.
“Eighteen months since the formal diagnosis.”
“Eighteen months?” A tear spills over her bottom lash, tracking down her cheek.
“Hey.” I take her hand. “Don’t cry, Pipes.”
“Is that why you were always sick when we were young? Oh God, I knew you weren’t doing it for attention,” she whispers, her thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “I knew it, Ro.”
She did. Piper never accused me of putting on a show. When we were little, she would quietly climb into my bed, press her small, warm hands over my aching joints, and stay there until the crying stopped. She never believed I was dramatic, even on the days I believed it myself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The guilt hits me right in the sternum.
The truth is, eighteen months ago, Piper was going through her own hell. I didn’t want to add to it. But if I tell her that, she’ll feel guilty for something she shouldn’t carry. This isn’t on her. It’s on me.
“Because the second I tell you, it becomes a thing,” I explain, the honesty spilling out whether I want it to or not.
“If I tell you, you’ll look at me like I’m made of glass.
Mom and Dad will feel guilty for the years it went unnoticed.
I just wanted one place where I was still Rowan, even if it’s the clumsy version. ”
Piper closes her eyes, swallowing hard.
“I wouldn’t have treated you like glass,” she whispers. “I would’ve just brought you better coffee.”
We both laugh before wiping at tears.
After a long minute, she takes a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m still mad you lied about yesterday,” she clarifies. “And you’re going to have to tell the rest of the family eventually. But for now… okay.”
For the first time in so long, I feel like I can breathe properly. “Thank you.”
“Now,” she says, leaning forward, “why the hell was Hudson at your support group? And why are you not sleeping with him?”
I groan, dropping my head onto my arms. “Would you like a glass of wine? I don’t have any, but we should get some.”
She laughs under her breath. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to need it for this story.”