Eventually, the trembling started to ease up. His arms loosened their hold, and his head lifted just slightly. Enough for me to see a flicker of exhaustion settle back over him. He slowly pulled away, still shaky but trying to get himself back under control.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to lose it on you. Again.”
I shook my head. “You don't have to hide it with me, Ro.”
He gave a small, tired exhale and lifted a hand to swipe at his face with the edge of his sleeve. His cheeks were blotchy, and his lashes were still wet, but he straightened up a little as he tried to gather what was left of his composure.
I let the quiet hang for a second before I spoke again. “Do you need anything?”
His gaze slipped away to some random spot on the carpet, and I could see the tension creep back into his posture. He didn't seem to know how to answer that. Of course hewouldn't. He was running on fumes and probably hadn't slept much, if at all.
I thought for a second, and then I realised something. Rowan had to still be in a lot of pain. Sleep would help, but I couldn't imagine he'd want to go back into the bedroom. The sofa wasn't a great option, either, with the shape he was in. He had that spare space in the back corner of his flat, so maybe...
I raised my hand to carefully rest it on his arm. "You want me to set up the guest room?"
That pulled his attention back. His eyes flicked to mine with a hint of confusion.
"So you're not stuck trying to sleep on the sofa. It's quieter back there. You'd probably get more rest."
He didn't say yes, but he didn't reject the idea.
"I'll take care of it." I didn't wait for him to answer and headed down the hall. He'd been through enough, and honestly, I needed a minute to step away and get my own head on right. Pulling a bed together was something productive I could do, at least.
The room itself was dim and a little musty from disuse, but it wouldn't take much to get it in order. I tugged the curtains open first, then opened the window to let in some fresh air. Almost immediately, the space felt more open and relaxing. Certainly less stuffy and claustrophobic.
I crossed to the closet and pulled out some bedding I'd seen Rowan stash in there ages ago. It wasn't anything fancy, just some plain grey sheets and a soft navy quilt. I shook them out and started to make the bed, going on autopilot as I smoothed the fitted sheet over the mattress and tucked the corners in.
The quiet gave me too much space to think.
I kept seeing his face. That exact moment when I rested my forehead against his – how his breath caught and he went still. I was right to back off, but damn if it didn't nearly breakme. Because I saw it then, clear as day.
I could only guess how long Rowan must've been keeping it buried. But it was definitely there.
I still couldn't believe I never saw it when we were younger. Back then, it was the little things. How his eyes lingered on me for half a second too long after I made him laugh. How he dropped his voice when we were alone, like he could only let his guard down when it was just us. How even in a room full of people, he'd always find me first.
I was so caught up with my own shit that I didn't see what he was trying to give me.
Maybe that was why he ended up with Marcus. Because I never saw him or let him think that I could see him that way. So he went looking for something he should've found with me.
The quilt settled over the bed with a faint rustle, and I paused, letting my hand rest on the fabric for a moment. My jaw clenched.
Whatever courage Rowan had left to reach for what he wanted, Marcus had shattered it. He'd twisted Rowan up so badly that now he didn't even trust himself to act when the thing he wanted was right in front of him.
It made me fucking furious. Rowan was the most gentle, patient, and thoughtful person I knew. He gave people far too much grace when they didn't deserve it and was always careful with everyone else's feelings. But he never expected anyone to return the favour.
He didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve to be left so gutted that the idea of wanting something for himself felt wrong.
I wanted to hunt Marcus down. Not just for the bruises or the fear he'd beaten into Rowan, but for the way he'd poisoned the way Rowan saw himself. For the way Rowan's voice shook when he apologised likehewas the one who'd done something wrong.
But a fight wouldn't fix this. It wouldn't put Rowan back together. It wouldn't make him feel safe again.
Right now, he needed someone in his corner. Someone who wouldn't give up when he shut down or pull away from him when things got messy. He needed someone to keep showing up even if he tried to shut them out. To remind him of who he was before Marcus chipped away at all the parts that made him whole.
I could be that person. I had been in the past. I would be again.
Even if I had to earn it an inch at a time, I'd help him find his way back to himself. I'd be there when the fear hit, when the doubt crept in, when the guilt tried to eat away at him. And when he was ready to act on what he wanted, I'd be there for that, too.
I stepped back and glanced over the room one last time. It wasn't much, but it was quiet. Private. Most importantly, it was free of Marcus's shadow. Maybe Rowan could finally get a little peace.
