“Enough,” I groan, covering my face with one hand. “Can we please talk aboutanythingelse?”
Rowan slides plates in front of both of us with eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in butter. Did he empty out the entire fridge? Though, I suppose it’s better to eat it now than take it with us back to his loft.
He sets a third plate for himself and joins us at the table that’s too small for three adults. Rowan’s knee touches mine under the table, while Lena steals food from both our plates. I pour coffee for all of us, doctoring Lena’s with as much sugar as she wants in a grand farewell to this old shit hole.
When the food is half gone, I set my fork down. “We need to talk about something.”
Lena pauses mid-bite. “That sounds serious.”
“It is.” I glance at Rowan, who gives me an encouraging look. “We’re moving into Rowan’s loft. Permanently.”
Instead of the excitement I expect, Lena shuts down, and she sets her fork on her plate with a quiet clank. “And what happens when you fight again?”
I flinch at the question, and beside me, Rowan goes still.
“Because you two may be great now,” she continues, “but what about when he does something you don’t like? Are we going to bounce back and forth every time you get mad?”
Guilt floods my system. In my desperation to protect my independence, my impulsive exit from Rowan’s apartment affected Lena’s stability.
“That’s fair,” Rowan says before I can respond. “I crossed a line and made decisions that affected your brother without consulting him.”
Lena’s eyes narrow. “And?”
“And I won’t do it again.” Rowan meets her stare without flinching. “We’ve talked about establishing ground rules. Ways to disagree without walking away.”
“Both of us,” I add, unwilling to let him take the fall alone. “It wasn’t only him. I’m the one who grabbed you and ran.”
“Yeah, you are.” She crosses her arms. “So how am I to trust you won’t do it again?”
The accusation stings because her concern is valid. I’ve spent our entire lives holding everyone but her at arm’s length. But I don’t want it to continue to be that way.
“I’m working on it.” I reach across the table for her hand. “I won’t run from Rowan again. Or if I do, I won’t drag you along.”
Rowan growls and pulls me onto his lap. “You won’t be running away.”
Lena wrinkles her nose at this display. “You two are gross.”
“That’s not a no to moving,” Rowan points out.
She sighs, poking at her eggs. “It’s not a no. Your place is nicer. And I appreciate the soundproofing. Also, I miss my mini fridge.”
My relief is short-lived as I prepare to bring up a more sensitive topic. “There’s something else we wanted to talk about.”
Lena’s shoulders stiffen. “What now?”
“I want you to talk to someone.” The words come out in a rush. “About everything that’s happened.”
Her fork clatters back onto her plate. “Are you suggesting therapy?”
My shoulders tense. “I think you should talk to someone.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “So I need fixing, but you don’t?”
“This isn’t about fixing?—”
“Is this his idea?” She jerks her chin toward Rowan.
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s mine. But he knows someone who might help.”
