Page 63 of Borrowed Pain
"Welcome to McCabe family dynamics. We're all professional bullshit detectors in our day jobs." I shifted closer.
"Rowan, how many times in your life has someone's family decided they want to keep you around?"
The question hit home. "That's not—" He started, then stopped. "I don't usually get introduced to families."
"Because you don't let relationships get that far, or because the relationships don't survive long enough to matter?"
"Both. My last partner told me I treated dating like surveillance. Always watching for signs they'd leave before I could disappoint them."
"Were they wrong?"
"No." His eyes met mine. "I've spent seven years convincing myself that isolation is a valid strategy, not cowardice. I tell myself that staying disconnected keeps me focused on the work that matters."
"And now?"
"Now your mother is expecting me at Sunday dinner next week, and I don't know how to want that without being terrified I'll lose it a month from now." His voice cracked on the last word. "I don't know how to be part of someone's family, Miles."
He pulled our intertwined hands up to touch his cheek. "I've never had a standing invitation anywhere."
"Well, now you do. Every Sunday, for as long as you want it. Once you're in, you're in."
"Even if this—" He gestured between us. "Even if we crash and burn?"
My brow furrowed. "Do you think we're going to crash and burn?"
"I think I don't know how to be in a relationship that matters enough to survive actual problems." It was brutal honesty that cut to the bone.
I leaned forward until our foreheads almost touched. "What if I don't want someone who knows how? What if I want someone willing to figure it out alongside me?"
He swallowed. "Miles—"
"You know, the other two guys I brought home only lasted long enough to realize my family is part of the package. No negotiating. No compromises. You get all of us or none of us."
"What did they say about that?"
"The first one called it codependent. He tried to out-therapist me by saying healthy relationships require boundaries between family and romantic partners." I shifted closer, our knees bumping. "The second one was more direct. Asked why I needed so many people's approval to make decisions about my life."
"And you said?"
"I told them they were missing the point. It's not about approval—it's about belonging to something bigger than yourself. They wanted to be the sun I revolved around. Theproblem is, I don't have a sun in my life." I grinned. "I'm part of a constellation."
"Multiple stars," Rowan whispered.
"Yes." Relief flooded through me at his understanding. "Ma was checking whether you'd try to pull me out of the constellation or find your place within it."
"And?"
"And you answered every question like someone who understood the assignment." I brought our joined hands up between us, studying how his longer fingers intertwined with mine. "You didn't try to minimize the risk or promise her you'd keep me safe. You didn't claim you could fix my work problems or manage my trauma load."
"What did I do?"
"You told her you'd rather live for me than die for me. That means showing up every day and choosing to stay."
Rowan was quiet for so long, I started to worry I'd said too much. Then his free hand came up to cup the side of my neck, thumb brushing against the pulse point beneath my jaw.
"No one ever brought me home to meet their family," he said finally.
"Never?"
