I felt the car roll forward, but I didn’t lift my head. I stayed still, letting the warmth of his touch and the low hum of the engine settle some of the chaos still buzzing around in my head.
Eli
35
The door clicked shut behind us as Rowan and I stepped into the flat. The space was quiet, dark except for the faint orange glow that bled in from the streetlamps outside. I turned the lock into place and tucked my key back into my pocket. The chain was next, then the deadbolt – but I stopped myself as I reached for both.
The police had Marcus now. We didn't have to barricade ourselves in here anymore. I let my hand fall to my side with a silent sigh of relief.
The trip to A&E went about as well as I could've hoped. No concussion for Rowan this time, thank God, and no need for stitches. Just a touch of frostbite and a brutal headache that would stick around for a few days. His wrists were raw from the cable ties but not cut deep, so the nurse wrapped them up and said to keep them clean until they healed. They sent him home with painkillers and something for the nausea, told him to stay hydrated, rest, and keep the lights low.
I glanced over to see him reluctantly reach for the lamp. He'd winced every time we passed something too bright on the way home, so I gently tugged his sleeve and steered him away. I didn't want to make things harder on him.
I helped ease the coat from his shoulders, then unwound the scarf from around his neck. He was too tired to argue orinsist he could do it himself. His movements were slow and sluggish. Everything had finally caught up to him now that we were home.
I draped the coat over the back of the nearest chair and quickly slid out of my own. Rowan pulled his glasses off and let out a quiet sigh as he pressed a hand over his eyes.
"You good?" I asked softly.
"Yeah... Just wiped."
"Gee, I wonder why." I wrapped my arms around him, and he didn't resist. He just leaned in and melted into it.
I held him for a long moment and let the silence settle around us. My own nerves hadn't quite calmed down yet, but being home with him in my arms took some of the edge off. The worst of this was finally over. We'd made it out. Now that I'd stopped moving, though, I was close to crashing myself. But I refused to until he was taken care of.
"Well," I said, giving his back a slow rub, "I think you are officially entitled to a nice, long nap."
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Might sleep for a week after this."
I pulled back enough to look down at him. "You'd have every right to."
He didn't say anything for a while. He just took in the quiet, barely able to keep his eyes open, and I started to wonder if he'd fall asleep right there on his feet.
Then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or frantic or heavy with leftover fear. Just tired. Soft. When he pulled back, his eyes started to gloss over with exhaustion. But his voice was clear when he said, "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't come."
I didn't give him a chance to spiral. I pressed a quick kiss to his hair and pulled him back into my chest. "You don't have to think about that tonight. You're safe. That's what matters."
He let out a breath against my shoulder, and after a pause, he mumbled, "By the way... Since when do you moonlight as a hostage negotiator?"
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. "That was a one-off. I'm not taking repeat clients."
"Probably for the best."
The fact that he could still manage a joke – still be so distinctly himself even with everything that happened – did something to me. He was still here. Still Rowan. He wasn't letting the trauma control him anymore.
I gave him a final squeeze and reluctantly eased back. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. It's late."
He didn’t argue. I guided him through the dark flat, keeping my pace slow to match his. In the bedroom, I pulled the curtain open to let the streetlight spill across the floor. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to see by. I left the main light off.
Rowan tossed his glasses onto the nightstand and dropped onto the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He'd probably fall asleep right there if he sat still for more than a minute or two.
I opened the dresser to grab one of his button-up pyjama shirts, then brought it over and crouched to carefully help him out of his jumper. I did my best to avoid jarring his head too much, and I tried not to bump the bandages on his wrists. He let me do it without protest.
I eased the clean shirt over his arms, and the fabric slipped easily into place. I started on the buttons, working from the top down. When I reached the bottom, I smoothed the collar gently, then leaned in to tap my nose against his. "I'll let you finish up."
I started to stand, but he reached out to catch my hand. His fingers curled around mine, not tightly but enough to stop me. Then he gave a gentle tug, and I let him pull me back down. Our lips met in a kiss that was slower this time, more deliberate.
I should've stepped back. I knew that. But the way he looked at me made it impossible. So I kissed him again. He met me halfway. Gentle at first, but then his hand slid up, curled around the back of my neck, and pulled me in deeper.
