Page 18 of Breakaway Daddies

“Whoa there, cowboy,” I say, tightening my hold and steadying him. “Still feeling like heading off to the wild, wild west?” I quirk an eyebrow, trying to make light of his unsteady stance.

Rowan mutters a curse under his breath, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he regains his balance. “I just got up too fast,” he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck with frustration.

“Uh-huh.” I roll my eyes, catching Thomas’s eye as he stands nearby, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “Care to chime in?”

He grins, folding his arms across his chest. “Nah, this is too entertaining.”

Rowan shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, then exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. Maybe I shouldn’t go back just yet,” he admits begrudgingly.

“Oh, you think?” I press a hand firmly against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my palm as I guide him back down onto the couch.

He sinks into the cushions with a resigned sigh, and I make a mental note of his unexpected compliance. Maybe he’s finally realizing the seriousness of his condition.

I sit back on my heels, tilting my head as I study him. “Listen, I know this sucks. I know you want to be back on the ice, feeling the rush of the cold air and the thrill of the game. But if you don’t take this recovery seriously, you won’t be. And then what?”

He clenches his jaw, his eyes fixed on the floor as if it might hold some answers.

I sigh, dropping my tone. “Look, if you don’t want to hear it from me, fine. But someone needs to make sure you do your rehab. Otherwise, you’re just going to end up back here, frustrated and stuck.”

Thomas nods in agreement, his expression turning earnest. “She’s right, man. No offense, but you’re too damn stubborn to do this alone.”

Rowan rubs the back of his neck again, this time meeting my gaze with a hint of vulnerability. “So, what, are you offering to babysit me?”

I smile, a feeling of mischief across my lips. “Something like that.”

Leaning back against the worn, plaid couch, I cross my arms as my eyes sweep across the cluttered living room.

Rowan sits slouched, arms crossed tighter than mine, his eyes glued to the television screen where a football game blares. He’s in a mood, and I’m not one to let sulking drag down the vibe.

I exchange a knowing glance with Bruno and Thomas, raising a brow with a playful smirk. “Alright, boys. Time to break out the beers and the board games. We need some fun in here,” I announce, injecting enthusiasm into my voice.

Thomas springs up with a grin, his sneakers thudding on the hardwood floor as he makes a beeline for the kitchen. Bruno lets out a low groan before trudging to the fridge.

I steal a look at Rowan, whose gaze remains fixed on the TV as if the game is his lifeline. I shake my head, determination setting in. He won’t stay grumpy for long—not if I have any say in it.

Bruno sets a case of cold beers onto the coffee table with a satisfying thud, while Thomas rifles through a cramped cabinet overflowing with board games. With a triumphant grin, he extracts LIFE from the pile and waves the box above his head.

“Oh, hell yes,” he exclaims, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Rowan finally tears his gaze from the screen, scoffing as he takes in the choice. “I hate that game,” he grumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I smile and lean forward. “Sounds like you’ve lost a lot,” I tease, raising an eyebrow.

We clear the coffee table of empty snack bowls and stray coasters, making room for the game. The board unfolds with a satisfying crackle as we set up the tiny plastic cars and pastel-colored pegs representing our fictional families.

True to character, Rowan skips the college path entirely, moving his car piece directly into the workforce with a flick of his wrist. “School is a scam,” he declares with a dramatic flair, prompting a chorus of laughter from the rest of us.

As we dive into the game, the tension in the room gradually dissipates like fog under the sun. Rowan’s grumpy facade begins to crumble, revealing glimpses of the fun, competitive spirit hidden beneath his brooding exterior.

This is exactly what he needed, and seeing him start to enjoy himself brings a warm satisfaction. It’s exactly what I need too.

Rowan leans forward with anticipation as his fingers spin the wheel, watching it click-clack to a stop on a high-paying career. Thomas throws his hands up in exaggerated frustration, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“Oh, come on, that’s rigged.”

Rowan chuckles, a mischievous glow in his eye as he slides his card into the slot of his little plastic car. “I don’t make the rules,” he retorts with a smug glance. “I’m just naturally better than you.”

Beside me, Bruno shifts, stretching his long legs across the carpet with a resigned shake of his head.

---