Lizzy leans in and kisses me, lips soft against mine. But there’s something missing—a distance that wasn’t there before.
Gah! I’m such an idiot. Everybody knows you don’t tell someone you love them in the heat of the moment.
“I’m hungry,” she says, pulling away. “Can we stop at In & Out on the way back?”
My heart plummets at her indifference, cutting deep.
“Sure, Sunshine,” I manage, forcing a smile. “Anything you want.”
fifty-eight
I wakeup alone in the dark.
Despite Rowan telling me he loves me, and the awkwardness of me not reciprocating, he’d asked if I would sleep with him in his bed. He didn’t make any moves, just wrapped himself around me as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Now the space next to me is empty and cold.
As I scan the room, my gaze catches on a sliver of light coming from under the closed walk-in closet door.
Drawn to the light, I slip out of bed. A tingling sensation runs up the back of my neck. Normally, I would never intrude, knowing that whatever is going on beyond that door is meant to be private. But my gut is telling me I shouldn’t leave him alone.
When I push open the door, my heart shatters into a million pieces.
Surrounded by a sea of letters and photographs, Rowan is sitting on the floor of his massive walk-in closet, shirtless, head tilted back against the wall.
Eyes closed, tears are streaming down his face as his hand lies next to him on the floor, clutching a white piece of paper.
Heart thumping, I cross the room without a word and straddle him, lowering myself onto his lap.
Startling with a soft intake of breath, his eyes flutter open. For a moment, he looks up at me, raw vulnerability shadowing his face. Then, with a sob, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my neck.
“Ro...” I whisper, voice breaking.
“I miss them, Iz,” he chokes against my skin.
“I know, baby. Me too.”
The subtle scent of his cologne brushes under my nose as I hold him tight. I’ve never seen him like this—completely undone, heart crumbled and broken. The man who graces movie screens and red carpets is nowhere to be seen. This is just Ro, the boy I grew up with, my best friend, hurting.
As I stroke his hair, letting him cry, my eyes wander, taking in the scattered memories of old photographs and letters until a photo lying next to Rowan’s leg catches my attention. I reach down and pick it up.
It’s a family photo of Rowan and his parents. They’re sitting on the porch of their house in Lakeside, all three smiling brightly at the camera. Rowan looks to be about ten years old. His mom has her arm around his shoulders while his dad sits next to her, leaning in.
Rowan sniffs as he pulls away. “She was pregnant.”
The words are so quiet I almost miss them.
“What?” Shock hits me hard.
Raw pain etched in every line of his face, he says, “My mom. She was pregnant when they were killed. Four months according to the report.”
The photo nearly slips from my fingers. “Oh my God, Rowan. I had no idea.”
“Nobody did. Except for them, I’m sure.”
He glances away, staring off into space. “I finally decidedto put in a request for the full report about six months ago. It came today. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to open it.” When his eyes meet mine again, they’re filled with tears. “It was a girl. I was going to have a sister.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking as he tucks back into my neck.
