Chapter 24
I remember getting angry at him for breathing too loud. Not even kidding, just the sound of it, the way it dragged in and out of his chest like it belonged in the room more than mine did, like he had more right to the air than I did.
And I knew it didn’t make sense, I knew it was stupid, but that didn’t stop it from crawling under my skin and sitting there.
Everything did, around that time. Everything got…
too close. The trees felt closer, the walls felt closer, even my own thoughts felt like they were pressing up against me instead of coming from inside.
Like they were trying to get in instead of out, and I couldn’t fucking separate it anymore.
And him, he was always there.
Too present and too fucking aware. Like he could feel it happening before I did. “You’re doing it again.” His voice cut through whatever the hell I was stuck in. I didn’t look at him.
“Doing what?” I muttered, but it came out wrong, like my tongue wasn’t keeping up with the words. He stepped closer, slow and careful.
“Losing track,” he said, softer this time. I clenched my jaw.
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t answer right away; that was the worst. Because when Zwierek didn’t answer, it meant he was watching, and when he was watching, it meant he was seeing things I wasn’t ready to admit yet.
“Rowan.” The way he said my name, not like a warning or a challenge, like something else. And I hated that more than anything.
“Don’t,” I snapped, finally turning to look at him.
I meant to sound firm, I meant to push him back, create some distance, anything, but it didn’t come out like that at all.
It came out thin and frayed. He saw it, of course, he fucking did.
His expression shifted, just slightly, but it was enough. Concern, real concern.
“I found him.” The words landed wrong in the room. Everything landed wrong, but that one, no, that one didn’t even make sense. I frowned, shook my head. “Found who?” He hesitated, actually hesitated. Then, carefully, like he was choosing his words for once.
“The psychiatrist.” Something in me gave way in a way I couldn’t fix.
“No,” I said immediately, shaking my head harder this time, stepping back without realizing it.
“No, that’s not, you said…” I stopped, because I knew what he said.
I knew it. “You said my father,” I continued, frustration creeping in under the confusion.
“You said you were going to find my father.” His brows pulled together, and the scar in his brow tightened, and for a second, he looked at me like I was the one slipping.
“Rowan,” he said slowly, “we never talked about your father.”
That, that fucking tone. So careful and measured, like he was talking to something fragile, like he thought I might break.
“I remember it,” my voice came out louder this time.
“You said it. You, you said…” The words tangled, slipped.
Wouldn’t stay where I put them. I tried to grab them again, force them back into place, but the more I pushed, the worse it got.
Like trying to catch raindrops in my hands.
“I remember it,” I repeated, but it didn’t sound convincing anymore. Not even to me.
His expression changed again, but not like before. He stepped closer, slow with that concerned look on his face.
“Hey,” he murmured. And I swear to God, I hated him for that. For the softness. For the way he reached out like I was something he needed to steady instead of something he needed to push.
“Don’t,” I said again, but there was nothing behind it this time, nothing solid. “You’re overwhelmed,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I said I’m not.” My chest tightened like something was sitting on it. Like I couldn’t get enough air in, no matter how hard I tried.
“You’re mixing things up,” he continued, voice still calm, still controlled, like he had all the time in the world to figure me out. “It’s okay. It happens.”
“No, it doesn’t…” My breath hitched.
Fuck.
It hit all at once, just, everything. My head felt too full and too empty at the same time, like there were too many thoughts and none of them were mine, crashing into each other without making sense, and my chest, fuck, my chest… I couldn’t, I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“Rowan.” His voice again, way too close, his hands on me. I tried to push him away, I think I did, or maybe I just thought about it. I don’t know.
“Get off,” the words broke. My hands were shaking. No, more than shaking, trembling. Like I couldn’t hold onto anything, not even my own body.
“It’s fine,” he said, firmer now. “Look at me.”
I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. Everything felt like it was crashing inside of me. The walls, the air, my own fucking skull…
“Rowan, look at me.” His hands tightened, holding me in place, and for some reason, that’s what did it.
That’s what broke whatever was left. I don’t remember breaking down crying, I just did.
It tore out of me like something had been sitting there for too long and finally found a way out, and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, I think I didn’t, I don’t know… I just, couldn’t fucking stop.
“I can’t,” I choked out, gripping onto him without realizing it.
“I can’t, I can’t think, I can’t, it doesn’t make sense, nothing makes sense.”
“I know,” he murmured immediately. “I know. I’ve got you.”
His arms wrapped around me, like he was the only solid thing left in the world. “Just breathe,” he said, quieter now, closer to my ear.
“Slow. You’re okay.”
I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close. But I tried. Because he told me to. Because his voice cut through everything else.
“Good,” he murmured when my breathing stuttered into something less broken.
His hand moved up to the back of my neck, grounding me there.
It took too long, or not long enough. I don’t know.
Time didn’t, it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Just him. Just the way he held me together when I couldn’t do it myself.
“You’ll feel better when this is over.” His voice was softer now, almost careful. Like he didn’t want to push too hard.
“When what’s over?” I asked eventually, my voice rough, scraped raw from everything that had just come out of me.
“All of it.”
Simple, like it wasn’t even a question. I should have argued, I should have pushed back, I should have told him to shut the fuck up and stop deciding things for me.
But I didn’t. Because I couldn’t do this anymore.
Not like this. Not with everything slipping through my hands every time I tried to hold onto it.
“If it stops this,” I said, my grip tightening slightly in his shirt without meaning to, “then I’ll do it.” His hand stilled for a second, then resumed. Almost… satisfied.
“I know,” he said softly.
“The forest,” I started, pulling back, shaking my head like I could clear it, but it didn’t help.
“It’s… It’s making it worse. I can’t, I can’t stay here.” That part was clear. I needed out. “I need somewhere else,” I continued, more desperate now. “Anywhere else. I don’t care where, just not… not here.”
He watched me, really watched me, and then… He nodded.
“I’ll fix it.”
Those three words shouldn’t have meant anything. But they did, they always did.
“I’ll find somewhere else,” he continued, like he already had a plan I didn’t know about yet.
“You won’t have to stay here much longer.” Relief hit me hard. His hand came up again, this time to my jaw.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
It wasn’t a question, not really. I swallowed, didn’t answer.
“I’m the only one who’s stayed,” he said.
“The only one who didn’t walk away when things got difficult. I’m the only one who actually sees you,” he added, his gaze locking onto mine in a way that made it hard to look anywhere else.
“And I didn’t run.” He let it hang between us.
“You won’t find that again, Rowan. Never.” It hit me in a way I couldn’t ignore. “I’ll take care of it,” he said again. And this time, I believed him.
Tell me something, little Ghost. If the only thing keeping you together is the same thing pulling you apart, do you let go? Or do you hold on tighter? Careful how you answer that. You’re starting to sound like me.