Cade
I stand in front of the mirror in the bedroom, buttoning a dark green polo over my chest. Smart casual, enough to look put-together without screaming, “I just fucked my stepbrother in the shower.” My hair is still damp, I run my fingers through it once, pushing it back into its usual effortless mess. While I pull on a pair of black jeans, I dial the number I found online.
The receptionist answers on the second ring, voice polished and professional. “Dr. Hart’s office, how may I help you?”
“I need to speak with Dr. Hart right away,” I say, keeping my tone even but firm. “It’s regarding Rowan Adley.”
There’s a brief pause. Rowan’s name clearly carries weight, or at least enough recognition to move things along. “One moment, please.”
Hold music starts playing, some bland instrumental piano. I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks, then head out to the kitchen area. I don’t want Rowan overhearing any of this if he comes out of the bathroom soon. Leaning against the far counter, I keep my eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door, arms crossed over my chest.
The line clicks again. For a second I think the receptionist might have hung up on me, but then a calm, measured male voice comes through. “Hello, this is Dr. Hart.”
“Dr. Hart, this is Cade Mercer, I believe you’ve been seeing my stepbrother, Rowan Adley.”
There’s a short, knowing pause on the other end. “Ah, Cade. Yes, I’ve seen your name in the media quite a bit over the past six months. How can I help you?”
I don’t waste time with small talk, but I do take a breath before diving in. “Dr. Hart… Rowan and I… wereintimatethis morning.” I pause for half a second, letting that land. “We had sex. I’m calling because I’m concerned that he’s going to spiral. I’d like him to speak with you as soon as possible… ideally today, if you have any availability. He needs to hear from a professional that we’re not disgusting or broken for this. We’re not blood-related…”
Dr. Hart is quiet for a moment. I wait for the inevitable judgment, the hesitation, the polite suggestion that this is inappropriate. It doesn’t come.
Instead, he hums thoughtfully. “I see.” Another brief pause, then Dr. Hart speaks again, calm as ever. “I’d like to see the dynamic between the two of you. If you’re willing, I have an appointment available in one hour. I think it would be beneficial for you to come with him.”
Relief loosens something in my chest. “Thank you. We’ll be there.”
“See you soon, Cade.”
I end the call just as the bathroom door opens. Rowan steps out with a towel slung low around his waist, water still glisteningon his shoulders and chest. He doesn’t look at me as he heads straight for the bedroom, curls damp and messy.
I let out a slow breath, part relief, part something heavier. I really hope this conversation with Dr. Hart helps Rowan. Because the truth is… I want to do that again. I want more than just the sex. I even enjoyed sleeping in his bed last night, not just because the mattress was comfortable, but because he was there, warm and tangled up with me.
…
Rowan emerges from the bedroom a few minutes later, dressed in one of his usual sharp suits… charcoal grey today, perfectly tailored, crisp white shirt underneath. The sight hits me differently now. I’ve seen him in suits a thousand times, but after this morning it feels like I’m looking at him with new eyes. He looks sharp, composed, in control… nothing like the man who was moaning my name and falling apart against the shower wall not long ago.
A slow smirk pulls at my mouth as I walk over to him. Rowan immediately ducks his head, pretending to fuss with his tie even though it’s already straight.
“You can look at me, Ro,” I say quietly.
He lets out a small, nervous laugh and shakes his head, still avoiding my eyes. I reach out and gently catch his chin between my fingers, tilting his face up until our gazes meet. A deep blush blooms across his cheeks almost instantly.
Trying to ease some of the rising panic I can see building in him, I keep my tone light. “Am Ithathandsome?”
Rowan laughs again, softer this time, and mutters, “Idiot.”
I grin and loosen his tie with deliberate slowness, then pull it completely over his head.
“What the…” he starts.
Before he can finish, I spin him around and start sliding the suit jacket off his shoulders.
“I just got dressed,” he protests, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
I spin him back to face me. “We’re not going to work yet.”
Rowan glances down at himself, shirt half-untucked now, no tie, jacket gone, and mutters, “I feel naked.”
The word sends an involuntary low growl rumbling through my chest. Rowan immediately covers his face with both hands, mortified.
