Page 62 of Borrowed Pain
"I want you there."
Chapter thirteen
Miles
The guest room door clicked shut behind us, sealing off the low rumble of voices in the distance. Charlie's toenails scratched against the floor as he settled into his evening routine, and somewhere in the kitchen, Matthew was probably cleaning while Dorian monitored security feeds.
Rowan stood with his back against the door, still holding the handle like he might bolt. His chest rose and fell in careful, measured breaths.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed. "So, that happened."
He turned to face me, and a shell-shocked expression appeared that he hid from my family. "Your mother asked if I was willing to die for you."
"Ma doesn't mess around with small talk." I kicked off my shoes. "She also invited you to Sunday dinner. That's a bigger deal than the death question."
"How is that bigger?"
"Death is hypothetical. Sunday dinner is every week for the rest of your life." I watched as he processed the information."She's claiming you, Rowan. You're family now, whether you want to be or not."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I don't know how to be family."
The admission hit a raw spot in my psyche.
"You were perfect," I said. "Marcus respects you, Michael stopped treating you like a threat, and Matthew's already planning what to cook for us tomorrow."
"And you?" Rowan pushed off from the door. "How do you feel about your family adding a dented, suspicious ex-fed to the roster?"
"I think you answered Ma's questions without flinching. You let them see exactly who you are, and they said yes."
"Who I am is someone who gets people killed."
"No, listen." I pushed off the bed and stepped up close. "I've brought two people home to meet Ma. One lasted through appetizers before he started making jokes about my work wife clients. The other made it to dessert before suggesting I needed a hobby."
"What happened to them?"
"Ma politely served them coffee in the kitchen instead of the dining room. That's family code for 'this one won't last.'" I reached for his hand. "She served you at the table. She had Matthew use his good plates."
Rowan's gaze dropped to where our fingers wove together. "I noticed."
"Did you notice Marcus asking for your opinion on jurisdictional protocols? Or Michael actually listening when you explained federal bureaucracy? They were recruiting you. All of them."
"Into what?"
"Into us." I gestured toward the space between our bodies. "My family not only protects me, Rowan. They protect anyone I choose to keep."
Rowan's free hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb tracing the hollow beneath my cheekbone.
"You held your own with Ma McCabe," I whispered. "Everything else is details."
We sat on the bed cross-legged, facing each other like kids preparing for a slumber party.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I said. "And don't give me the hardcore investigator version. I want the real you."
Rowan's hands rested on his knees. "I keep replaying her questions. How she looked at me when I said I'd rather live for you than die for you."
"That was the right answer."
"Was it? Marcus looked like he was calculating whether I was sincere or only saying what she wanted to hear."
