Page 136 of The Menagerie

“Okay, okay, we’re making Rowan uncomfortable,” Clover says in a chastising tone.

He hadn’t even realized his face felt hot until she’d said it, but he’s glad for her distraction. After all, he’s never been one for being in the spotlight. But even with the lighthearted teasing at his—or really, Mal’s—expense, Rowan likes them all more than he already did.

They make small talk until Mal shows up ten minutes later, causing Rowan’s jaw to hit the floor. He’s dressed in all black, tight, ripped jeans accentuating his shapely legs and—though he can’t see it right now—surely hugging his ass nicely. He’s got on a black button-up shirt unbuttoned to reveal a hint of his toned chest and his tattoo, accentuated with a thin gold chain. A chic-looking belt and his black boots complete the look, and goddamn, Rowan’s seen him in all sorts of outfits by now, dressy and casual alike, but he looks hot asfuck, and Rowan wants nothing more than to jump him right in the middle of the club.

But from behind him emerges someone that makes Rowan’s jaw hit the floor for adifferentreason as he does a double take. And not because of her similar all-black attire, an oversized blazer with the sleeves cuffed to her forearms showing off the long-sleeve lace top underneath and revealing the twin snake tattoo he’d seen that had instantly reminded him of Mal.

It’s the woman he’d helped with the injured arm several months ago. What was her name? Amy?

“Holy shit, you’re that EMT,” she says, mirroring Rowan’s thoughts and shaking her long, messy ponytail off her shoulder.

Rowan’s shock at seeing her and at her recognizing him months later is enough to keep him from correcting his title.

“Wait, how thefuckdo you two know each other?” Mal interjects instead of any type of greeting.

She leans into Mal’s side. “Mal, he was with the ambulance when Jared….” Rowan connects the dots at the same time Mal does.

“No shit? Small fuckin’ world. Well, Campbell, this is my sister, Bitchface. Bitchface, this is m—Campbell,” he crudely introduces them.

“Amy,” the woman says, holding out her hand and glaring at her brother. “And it was Rowan, right?”

Rowan’s surprised she remembers, but, “Yeah. How’s your arm doing?” he asks, shaking her hand gingerly while his own is nearly crushed with her firm grip.

“All good. Was just a sprain.”

“And, uh….”

“He’s gone,” she says, inferring Rowan’s next question. “Rest in fuckin’ pieces.”

Rowan’s eyes widen. He doesn’t put it past this firecracker of a woman to actually kill someone.Orto sic Mal on him on her behalf. The sour look on the man in question’s face tells Rowan he might not be too far off on that line of thinking.

But potential felonies aside… holyshit. Everything about the scene when Mal kissed him makes sense: Why he’d gone radio silent for days in a row before requesting more praise than normal. Why he’d been so distracted that he’d done something outside his normal boundaries. Why he’d slept with someone else afterward.

He doesn’t yet know how close Mal and Amy are, but hell, if any one of Rowan’s siblings got abused like that, he’d be a fucking mess too.

“Mal! Happy birthday, darling!” Rowan hears from behind him.

For a moment, the name that Camilla calls doesn’t register with Rowan, being so used to hearing her calling MalMalcolm.

But when itdoes, Rowan’s stunned into silence. Everything makes sense now. These aren’t just random people that Mal happens to see on a fairly regular basis when he’s at the club. These are his friends. Hisfamily. Ofcoursethey’re going to call him what he wants to be called. His stomach twists as if he’s on a Tilt-a-Whirl at the thought of what that makeshimto Mal.

As everyone hugs and wishes Mal a happy birthday, Rowan catches snippets of conversation.

“Hey, sweets,” Jeremiah says to Amy, hugging her tightly. “Jules said you two had a good time seeing Lizzo?”

“Fuck yeah, she was incredible. Your sister’s wild as hell, though. Can drink me under the table.”

“Don’t tell me that,” he says with a laugh, though he looks secretly proud.

Rowan’s not sure how Amy fits in with the rest of Mal’s friends, doubting that she’s a member of the club herself, but it goes to show how close Mal is with both her and his friends.

“Speaking of…,” Amy says, eyeing the group. “Why are we not drunk yet?”

“Shots!” Camilla declares, slinging an arm around both the Savaryns and tugging them off toward the bar.

And with that, Rowan’s crowded around Mal at the bar with one shot of tequila burning his throat, sixthunks of empty shot glasses ringing in his ear, and two golden eyes boring holes into his own.

“Happy birthday, darling!” Clover shouts, giving Mal a side hug.

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