Chapter Twenty-Four
Melissa
Rowen had been quiet since we left LaVander’s Steakhouse and dropped off Danika with Dante. When he did speak, he barely said two words, and even then, they were clipped and to the point. I didn’t know him well, but I knew well enough when someone needed to talk, and I couldn’t ignore how the air between us felt charged—like there was something important he was holding back, just beneath the surface.
“Alright, spill it,” I finally said, unable to take the silence any longer. I watched his profile for any flicker of emotion. “Are you really going to pretend nothing’s wrong?”
“What?”
“Your mood since we left the restaurant,” I pressed. “You’ve been tense, shutting me out. You barely said anything to Roxy, and you damn near bit Dante’s head off. I’m not asking to pry, but I’m here if you need to say something.”
He wouldn’t look at me, which only made the silence heavier, stretching until it felt unbearable. I watched his fingers drum restlessly on the steering wheel, betraying a storm he wasn’t ready to unleash. Still, I stayed quiet, hoping that my presence and patience might be enough to let him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
“It’s nothing.”
Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Don’t give me that male bullshit,” I scoffed, turning to face him with a withering look. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, watching as he maneuvered through the traffic withthe same stubborn set to his jaw. “Why is it men think they don’t need help?” I demanded, my voice sharp with exasperation. “Instead, men get it into their thick skulls that they can handle anything that comes their way. Before I die, I would love to meet a man who has the balls to ask a woman for help.” My words hung in the air, challenging him to respond, to break out of that frustrating silence and let me in.
“I don’t want you involved. You’ve been through enough already.”
Exasperation surged through me as I flung my hands up, the gesture as dramatic as my audible gasp. I didn’t bother softening my tone—every word carried the edge of my irritation. “God forbid a woman can’t manage to give a few words of wisdom,” I retorted, my sarcasm cutting the air between us. The annoyance in my voice left no room for doubt: I was done with being dismissed, and I refused to let it slide any longer. “You know something, bucko? My father dismissed me before I was even born. My brother dismissed me because he couldn’t accept the fact that he couldn’t protect me. Sypher dismissed me just because I wouldn’t stand aside when it came to my daughter. Travis dismissed me when he went back to his club—both times. And now you think I’m too damn weak to help!”
Rowen’s response was immediate and forceful. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and shouted, “I never said you were weak! I just don’t want to talk about it with you!” His voice reverberated in the confined space, frustration matching my own.
For a moment, I was speechless; my mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Then, narrowing my eyes into hard slits, I let my anger break through. “Fine!” I shouted a single word loaded with everything I was feeling.
Rowen groaned, shaking his head in obvious exasperation. “Perfect. A woman’s favorite word.Fine.” The sarcasm in histone mirrored my frustration, signaling that neither of us was ready to back down.
I wheeled on him, incredulous and angry. “What the hell does that mean?” My patience was long gone, and I demanded an explanation.
He let out a heavy sigh. “It means every time a woman says fine, it’s not fine. In fact, it’s so far from fine, it’s nuclear!” His words hung between us, the tension crackling in the charged silence that followed.
Rowen’s jaw clenched, and for a heartbeat he looked ready to unleash more words, but instead his gaze darted out the window, refusing to meet mine. The tension between us thickened, buzzing in the air like static; neither of us refused to budge an inch.
My hands trembled in my lap, but I refused to let him see just how much his words affected me. Every muscle in my body tensed, and my jaw clenched as I struggled not to let tears betray the anger and hurt swirling inside. At that moment, the air between us felt like a battlefield, charged with everything we’d left unsaid.
The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on both of us with a weight that felt impossible to lift. I tried to remain composed, but a single tear betrayed me, slipping silently down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, not wanting him to see, but the quiet in the car was too loud to ignore. At last, I heard Rowen sigh, his voice softer than before. “I’m sorry.”
My response was barely more than a whisper, tinged with resignation. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city lights blur past. “You don’t owe me any explanations. I just thought we were friends, that’s all.”
Rowen hesitated, his hand reaching out, tentative and gentle, finding mine. “Melissa,” he said softly, “I am your friend.Knowing what you’ve been through lately, I just didn’t want to pile my problems on you.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes, my voice low as I replied, “You don’t get it.”
He looked over at me, genuine concern in his tone. “Then explain it to me. What don’t I get?”
Letting out a deep breath, I gathered my thoughts before admitting, “I can’t get my head to shut off. It’s always running at high speed. Talking to you helps me drown out my own thoughts and feelings. I know I can’t ignore them, and I don’t, but sometimes I need something to focus on. Something to take my mind off what I can’t change and help me concentrate on something I can.”
He considered my words, then asked, “So you’re using me and my problems to get out of your head?”
A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth despite the heaviness in the air. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds a little selfish of me, doesn’t it?”
Rowen let out a short, huffed laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn the conversation had taken. “Selfish? Maybe,” he said, a gentle warmth returning to his eyes. “But isn’t that what friends are for? We lean on each other, even if it’s messy sometimes.”
The car rolled forward into the underground parking lot beneath the residence, and this time arriving at this place didn’t feel quite as heavy. I looked over at him and, for the first time that night, the tension eased enough for a small, genuine smile to break through.
I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, as I left the bathroom and prepared to climb into bed. My head throbbed, my muscles ached, and my heart felt numb, drained of any emotion. All I wanted in that moment was to curl up beneath the covers and sleep for days, hoping that rest might restore some semblance of strength. I found it hard to believe how much my strength had faded and how spending just a few hours with my daughter left me utterly worn out. Even pretending to be sociable felt impossible when every instinct urged me to withdraw, to walk away and ignore the world around me.
Logically, I knew that was impossible. I missed my daughter, spending time with Dante, even squaring off with Danny over every little thing. That was my life, even if I had to learn to live without a big part of it. As I pulled the covers over myself, the silence in the room felt lighter than usual, and I glanced at my phone, tempted to reach out, to call my brother, to hear his voice, to know he was okay. The soft hum of the city outside was a constant comfort, reminding me that life continued on, that tomorrow was a silent promise that maybe, just maybe, it would be better than today.
