The sirens fade as they pass our building, diminishing until they blend with the backdrop of city noise. My hand resumes its path, delivering eggs to my mouth, though I’ve lost my appetite.
“I could help,” Rowan says, leaning forward with his forearms on the table. “Calculus was my best subject.”
Lena brightens, her shoulders relaxing. “Thatwould be amazing! Ash tries, but he’s more of a practical math person.”
“Practical math has kept a roof over our heads,” I remind her.
“Yeah.” Her fingers trace patterns on her cup. “I only meant?—”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what Ash excels at,” Rowan interrupts, smooth as warm honey. “Practical application of theoretical concepts. Finding solutions others might miss.”
His approval sends an involuntary flush creeping up my neck. I hate how my body responds to him, how my skin heats under his stare.
“Did you go to college?” Lena asks Rowan, her curiosity piqued.
“Took some classes that interested me, but I wasn’t in the market for a degree.” Rowan leans back in his chair, stretching his legs beneath the table, his foot brushing mine in a contact that could be accidental, but isn’t. “I already had a solid job I liked, so there wasn’t much point.”
I move my foot away, but his follows, ankle hooking around mine in a gesture too deliberate to mistake. The simple contact sends heat spiraling through me, unwanted but impossible to ignore.
Another siren cuts through the air, this one louder and closer than the first.
Rowan pauses mid-sentence, his head turning toward the window as he focuses on the sound. His ankle releases mine as his attention shifts to the approaching wail.
The siren screams past our building, so close that the windows rattle in their frames.
Lena doesn’t even blink, continuing to butter her toast while discussing an upcoming school project. The contrast strikes me anew, how my sister normalizes danger, learning to filter threats based on proximity and immediacy. I’ve failed to protect so much of her childhood.
Rowan’s attention stays on the window until the sound fades before his focus shifts to Lena, taking in her non-reaction.
“Is that normal here?” he asks, his tone casual while his body tenses.
“Yeah,” I answer without thinking. “There are a lot of domestic calls.”
His eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t comment.
Lena pushes back from the table. “I need to shower. I’m going to meet some friends for a virtual study group during lunch hour, so I’ll be locked up inmy room for a while.” She gives me a significant look. “With my headphones on.”
Blood creeps up my neck and burns in my cheeks.
Giggling, she carries her plate to the sink and rinses it with quick efficiency. “Thanks for breakfast, Rowan. You should come over more often. Ash never cooks like this.”
My teeth grind together at her easy acceptance of this stranger in our space. “Lena?—”
“Fifteen minutes,” she calls over her shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “Then you can run the dishwasher if you want.”
The sound of her door closing drifts out, followed by the water pipes groaning as the shower starts, the ancient plumbing protesting as it always does.
In one fluid movement, I cross to the sink and grab the knife I left to dry last night, the serrated edge good for cutting through meat with minimal resistance. The weight settles in my palm as I turn toward Rowan, who remains relaxed, arms loose at his sides.
“What’s your play here?” I advance a step. “Is this blackmail?”
His mouth tightens with the first sign of genuine irritation. “Do you think so little of me?”
“I don’t know you,” I spit back.
“Come now, precious, I think we got to know each other pretty well last night.” Rowan stands, his height forcing me to tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact. “Didn’t we agree to go home together? But you got a little lost along the way, so I came to make sure you were all right.”
“How considerate.” The word drips with sarcasm. “And breaking into my apartment while I slept? Was that concern, too? Did you fuck with my alarm as well?”
