Page 83 of Owned

“I haven’t finished.” Abruptly, Rowan leapt up off the couch and came to stand in front of me, staring up into my face. “Love is also waking up beside you every morning. Love is you holding me when I fall apart. Love is you bringing me breakfast in bed, and love is your hands in my hair. Love is you desperate to protect me and our child, and love is me standing in front of you and telling you that I love you!”

She was so strong. So powerful. Even now, when she was laying waste to everything, she was beautiful Something shifted inside me, something rough and raw and painful.

This woman wasn’t a toy, she was a goddess, and a goddess deserved a god, not the flawed piece of shit that I was. Jesus, I could barely call myself a man let alone be deserving of a woman like her.

“I’m sorry, Rowan,” I said. “Love is the one thing I can’t give you.”

“So?” she said recklessly. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to hear it back, I told you because you deserved to know.”

“You don’t fucking know what I deserve.”

“Yes, I do.” She took a step closer. “You tore me down, then built me back up so I was stronger than I ever thought possible. You gave Mom and I hope when I thought there was none, and you leant me your strength when mine had run out. You gave me pleasure, you taught me not to be afraid, and you showed me that I’m capable of much more than I ever thought possible.”

There was no fear in her eyes, only her stubborn, loving heart, and for a second I thought I could do it, make that leap of faith. But no matter what she said, she was young. She’d had difficulties in her life, it was true, but I’d had a war. I’d had a battle that had left its scars in me and there was nothing I could do about that. Nothing.

In the end, love just wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry.” I allowed no weakness to creep into my tone, allowed it no give. “But love can’t be any part of my life, Rowan. That’s just the way it is.”

She was quiet a long time, staring at me, her eyes dark. “Don’t let him win, Atlas,” she said very softly. “Your mother would want better for you and so do I.”

But she didn’t know my mother and no matter that my father was dead, he’d won long ago. He’d won the moment my mother took her own life.

I didn’t say anything.

I simply turned around and walked out.

31

Rowan

I watched Atlas’s tall figure walking away, shoving the curtain over the doorway aside and striding out, leaving me alone under the spotlight. Naked.

But I didn’t care about that. Nakedness made me feel strong and standing there in front him, throwing words at him, giving him a truth he didn’t want to hear, I’d never felt so powerful in my entire life.

It wasn’t enough though. The damage his father had done to him was too great.

Of course it wasn’t enough. You never are, not for your mother and not for him.

My throat closed, pain radiating out from my chest. I could almost feel the breaking of my heart as it tore itself in two, the jagged halves of it cutting into me.

I didn’t want it hurt, I didn’t want to be reduced to crying over him. And I didn’t want to accept that in the end I’d been too young, too naive, and too stupid to think love would solve everything. That it would somehow miraculously heal all his wounds, take away all his scars.

I screwed my eyes shut, tears seeping out from under my lashes no matter how hard I tried not to stop them.

How strange, though, that in the end it was me who was the powerful one and he the one too fragile to deal. Perhaps it was women who were the strong ones. Even my mother, who certainly wasn’t well, hadn’t broken either. His own mother had, though. She’d lost hope and I could see that Atlas had lost hope too. He’d lost hope that he could step out from under his father’s shadow and instead had stayed there, using that as an excuse to hide his own fear.

How could I blame him for that? When his experience of love had been so terrible? His father had loved only himself and his mother had d died rather than stay for him, so no wonder he thought it was nothing but toxic.

Which was all very adult and measured of me, but that didn’t help the vicious ache in my chest, that told me that something inside of me had broken and I wasn’t sure it could ever be fixed.

I didn’t know what to do. I was married to a man I loved and I was going to have his child, but he’d just told me that love could never be part of his life and then he’d walked away. So where did that leave me?

Not that I cared about myself to be honest. It was him I grieved for. He was a difficult man, but he felt so deeply, so intensely that it was eating him alive.

More tears ran down my cheeks, but I didn’t stop them as I turned and slowly began to pull on my underwear then my dress, fighting not to sob.

He was a man who’d papered over the cracks in his own heart, built up an edifice that looked powerful and strong on the outside, and inside yet was riddled with holes, with doubts and pain, weakening the whole structure. He was just trying to protect himself, hide from the pain inside him, and that was okay.

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