“You’re sitting here telling me about naming cookies like it’s no big deal, and all I can think about is how much I missed this. Missedyou.I don’t want to miss another damn thing.”
My breath hitches, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. I don’t know what to do with this version of Rowan. He’s never been shy about speaking his mind. He’d tell off teachers, call out his friends when they were being idiots, say exactly what he thought about anything and everything. But this—this raw honesty about what he feels forme—is new territory. Foreign and terrifying and impossibly sweet.
“Well then,” I say, trying to stay upbeat, “you’ll also love this. I had a secret weakness for those trashy romance novels. You know, the ones with the shirtless cowboys on the cover?” I laugh, a little embarrassed. “My roommate, Whitley, caught me once and never let me live it down.”
His brows lift, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Really now? Sweet Violet Larkin, closet romance junkie.”
“What can I say? A girl’s gotta have her guilty pleasures.” I shrug. “Especially when real life is distinctly lacking in shirtless cowboys.”
“Hey, give me a minute. I could probably make that happen.”
I snort out a laugh, but my brain’s already running wild. Rowan, shirtless, standing right here, jeans hanging low, cowboy hat tipped just enough to be dangerous. I know there are a few abs hiding under that T-shirt...probably more than a few. I swallow hard, willing the image to die a quick death.
“Please don’t. I don’t think this diner is ready for that kind of show.”
Except the image is already burned into my brain with cinematic clarity. My brain is having an entire unapproved field day.
God help me.
I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second, willing the heat in my cheeks to settle, but it’s no use. This is what he does. He slips under my skin without even trying—just a simple grin and a few teasing words, and suddenly, I’m a mess.
I open my eyes and glance at him again, and of course, he’s looking at me like he knows.
I clear my throat, dragging myself out of the haze, and slowly pull my hand back to grab a fry. Safe. Predictable. Grease, salt, and starch. There’s no room for fantasies there.
“What about you? How’s your dad?”
“Haven’t talked to him in years,” he says. “My old neighbor sends me updates sometimes. Last I heard, he was still alive.” His mouth twists. “Honestly? I’m a little surprised.”
I wince. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Rowan shrugs in response. “It’s okay. I used to try. Thought maybe if I was better, he might want to be, too.”
He pauses, jaw tightening just a little. “But people don’t change just because you want them to. He made his choice. So I made mine.”
I nod. “I get that. So wheredidyou disappear to when you left?”
He leans back in the booth, one arm casually draped across the back. “I joined the Marines.”
My pulse jumps, and I let the silence hold while he works through whatever he’s deciding to give me. I thought it would be easier to pretend we were just two people getting to know each other, but he’s right. We’ve skipped the small talk.
“Did my time,” he finally continues. “Two tours. Sand, sweat, not a lot of sleep.” He huffs a dry little laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It straightens you out quick.”
I tilt my head, watching him. “What was it like?”
His fingers drum against the back of the booth once. Twice. Then still. His gaze lifts to the ceiling for a second, as if he’s looking for the right words. “Hot. Loud. Boring until it wasn’t,” he says finally. “The kind of place where you learn to sleep with one eye open and laugh at stuff that’d make most people puke.”
He pauses, like he’s checking to see if I’ll flinch. I don’t.
“And what about when you came back?”
He sits up a little straighter. “Loud in a different way. Couldn’t stand crowds for a while. Couldn’t stand quiet, either.”
My heart hurts for him. I wish I would have known this. All of it. I think about all the nights I spent waiting for him to come back, how I’d map out what I’d say if I ever saw him again. Now here he is, sitting across from me, telling me things that would’ve changed everything, if only I’d known.
“Did you have anyone?” I ask quietly. “When you got back?”
His gaze drops to the table, and for a moment, I think he might brush it off. Then he answers, his voice low and rough. “No. Not really. Stayed with some buddies from the unit for a while, then with my cousin. Moved around a lot. Didn’t put down roots.”
