Page 10 of Beautiful Ruins
But it wasn’t the greeting I’d expected, not after he practically insulted me only hours before. No,Hey Sades, sorry I was a dick earlier. How’ve you been?
Straight to the point. Same old Rowan. And yet not.
I arched an eyebrow. “That’s the first question you want to ask, or are you going to try for another one?”
He groaned, staggering forward as though I hadn’t spoken at all. “Why are you back?”
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re avoiding the question,” he said, almost amused. “Besides, drunk’s the only way to shut the memories up.”
Was that all it took? If I’d known that, I’d have drunk my sorrows away years ago. Only I knew that wasn’t true. And so did Rowan.
Maybe that explained the way he was staring at me. I’d forgotten about that look, that smirk of his that twisted in the same way it had when he used it to pin me with water balloons from two metres away.
“Well, now you’ve got your answer,” I said, keeping my arms wrapped tight around my waist. My ribs were burning from the fall from the bed, and I didn’t need Rowan asking any more questions. “Go home, Rowan. Preferably out the front door. How the hell did you even get up to the window,anyway?” I glanced out the open frame. It was at least a three-metre drop.
Rowan pushed past me, his shoulder grazing mine with the kind of familiarity I didn’t know how to brace for. He dropped onto my bed and sprawled across the mattress. His long legs hung off the edge, boots still on, arms resting behind his head like he was settling in for the night.
Oh, how many times over the years had I wished for Rowan Knight to climb into my bed.
“Is it your old man? Is he sick?” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head.
He knew well enough that my old man was fine, but I could sense he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. Or, at the very least, an answer to one of his questions. I didn’t blame him. Six years without one phone call, or even one text message, would do that to a person.
Still, he shouldn’t have been there, not like that, not right then when I was trying so hard to keep my shit together. Didn’t he realise how hard it was for me to look at him and not remember everything we went through that night when we had found Logan? Ignoring me as he did earlier would have been less painful than what he was doing now—laying there, staring at me like I was the one with all the answers.
I crossed the room, the floor creaking beneath my steps, the soft whir of the ceiling fan filling the silence between us. “Dad’s fine.” I swallowed hard. “Are we done here?” Because if he looked at me like that much longer, I wasn’t sure I would survive it.
“Just tell me, Sades.” He sat up, his gaze dropping, settling on my cheek. His expression grew serious, something dark flashing behind his eyes as his fists pressed hard into his thighs. “Because of that.”
It wasn’t a question.
I ducked my head. I was stupid enough to think that was going to change anything. He’d already seen it. Hiding wasn’t going to do me any good.
Still, I couldn’t shake the shame that sat heavy on my chest. I’d let myself get caught up in the mundanity of trying to hide who I was. And I let a man I wasn’t even in love with, hurt me. More times than I could count.
And now this one wanted to tear my insides out and watch me bleed all over him.
“It’s none of your business, Rowan,” I said, hovering near my bedroom door.
I’d hoped he’d take the hint and get the hell out of my room before I did something stupid—like run to him.
Instead, Rowan stood and stepped closer, his movements slow, possibly a test to see if I might indeed bolt. “Who?” It was only one word, but the look on his face almost brought me to my knees.
I could have given him a name, waited to see what he would do with it. But this version of him, the drunk version, probably wouldn’t remember much about this conversation come morning, and I wasn’t in the mood to entertain whatever fantastical idea was swimming through his head at that moment.
“It’s nothing.” I pulled my gaze from his, my mouth dry, and swiped at the single tear trailing down my face. “Just some idiot. I left him. You happy?”
“Happy?” His voice was raw, disbelief pouring out of him. “Why the fuck would I be happy about someone hitting you? You show up here after six goddamn years, a black eye . . .” He gestured to my ribs. “And Christ knows what else, and you want to tell me it was just some idiot.”
I held myself tighter, the dull throb in my ribs growing sharper with each inhalation. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”
Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying,” he said, huffing out a humourless laugh. “You always did suck at it.”
“It’s none of your business,” I said again, forcing more venom into my tone in the hopes he’d finally understand I didn’t want to discuss this right now. Not ever.
He scratched the back of his head, giving it a slight shake. “You’re back two seconds, and you’re already pretending none of it matters. Typical Sadie.” His boot scuffed the rug I hadn’t bothered replacing since high school. Something in me cracked.
