“But you—”
“I shouldn’t have done that, Rowan. I am so sorry.”
“Why?” I probe, breathing hard. “Because it’sbad?”
“Yes.”
“Then be bad, Colt.” I pull myself up and over him until I’m straddling his lap. Against his will, his hands find their way to my hips, and I lean in to whisper, “I won’t tell.”
“Rowan, I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” I demand, bracing my hands on the seat behind him.
“I can’t feel the way that I do about you.”
“Even if I want you to?”
He shakes his head, eyes softening when he looks at me. “Especially then.”
“Then what was tonight?”
“Selfish.”
My arms go slack as shame, defeat and humiliation wash over me. I pull myself from his lap and drop into the seat next to him, feeling like the cheap whore my father told me I looked like. I don’t even recognize myself right now. Am I that desperate for validation, that I missed him taking advantage of me and thought he actuallywantedme?
“Did you use me?”
“No. No, that wasn’t why I—” he hesitates. “Rowan, you’re hurt and confused.”
Oh my god, is thatpityon his face?
The shame and embarrassment coursing through me could be compared to a category five hurricane, knocking me off of my own axis and sending me into oblivion.
“Let me out of the car.”
He turns to me with those soft eyes, looking like a wounded puppy, and it could almost crack me in two if his rejection hadn’t done that already.
“It’s one in the morning. It’s freezing.”
“Let me out.”
Heaving a sigh, he instructs the driver to pull off on a shoulder. When we’ve stopped, I step out of the car and grab my things.
Before pushing the door closed, I look Colt in the eye and tell him, “All night, all I thought about was how happy I was. And that you made me feel really safe. I think about that one a lot of the time, not just tonight. Don’t waste that on the next one, Mr. Fowler.”
“Rowan—”
I slam the car door shut and take a few steps away until I’m off of the road, then I pull out my phone and order a ride to take me home.
I’m such an idiot.
SIXTEEN
Rowan
I’m going to call the theme of the day ‘the Sunday smashies.’ Dad has been slamming around downstairs for the past half an hour, and I just don’t care about finding out why. I’m sure that somehow, even if it’s because he did something stupid or lost money at the bar, it will be my fault.
My entire body hurts today, my nerves are shot and every movement sends shards of glass shooting through my veins. I tuck my heating pad around my middle as tightly as I can and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to sleep.
