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“Well, I was right where you left me.” Rowan winces as the words land, but still watches me steadily. Gone is the agitation that twisted him up yesterday; he’s calm. Sure of himself.
Unlike me. What the hell has gotten into me this morning?
I’m not an angry person. I never, ever stomp or yell, and usually when I get annoyed it fades as quickly as it came. But now it’s like meeting Rowan, longing for Rowan, has cracked open deep wells of emotion I never knew I had.
“You’re not in your hotel room now,” he notes. “Did you come up here looking for me?”
Yes. “No.”
Can’t admit that now. Can’t make sense of any of this, not when my exhausted brain has barely slept a wink and my broken heart is slumped inside my ribs. Why is he here? Why is he wearing a shirt and boots?
“Are you sure?” Rowan asks gently.
Ugh.
Why did I come up here? What was I gonna do, drag Rowan back to town with me by his earlobe? Then what?
He didn’t want me. Not enough to try, anyway, and storming up here like this is just another humiliation to add to the pile. Worst of all, it’s like he reads all these thoughts flitting across my face, because Rowan’s mouth turns down and he steps forward, arms reaching.
“Evie—”
“Don’t!” A rock skitters as I stumble back a step. If he holds me again, if he pretends to want me again then takes it back, I will lose my freaking mind.
The birds go quiet for a few moments, like they’re eavesdropping on the drama below. The morning wind whistles through the tree trunks and cuts right through my tank top, and shoot, it is cold up here. Forgot that, somehow, in my red haze of rage.
Because I nearly froze in Rowan’s cave only two nights ago. Nearly lost my damn toes. And he built up that fire and spooned me on his pelt until warmth spread through my body again, soothing me to sleep.
My face crumples at the memory.
Rowan makes a low, anguished sound.
“I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so fucking sorry.” His deep voice rumbles through me, settling that agitated buzz that’s been gnawing on my bones. Gray eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to listen. “Those—those episodes always mess me up, always leave me so raw and on edge. I can’t think straight right after them. Can’t shake off the sense of doom. It’s like anything I touch will turn to dust, and I’m so sure that’s true, so fucking sure, that I can’t trust myself with anything good. And you’re not just good, Evie. You’re perfect.”
Empathy throbs in my chest, but I stare up at the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge, not speaking. I need to hear this. Need to let him get it all out.
We won’t be able to move forward until he does. Until I can trust that he means what he says.
“It’s not real, though. I know those thoughts aren’t real.” Rowan’s chest lifts as he sucks in a deep breath. “And I know I can do better for you… if you’ll let me.”
My throat is tight as I swallow. My feet ache as I shift my weight.
Already, I feel lighter.
“Do better?” I scrape out, my voice so quiet on the mountainside.
What exactly does Rowan mean, he’ll do better? As in, he’ll work on it up here in his cave? He’ll let me come visit him sometimes? He’ll start some caveman journal to process his feelings? What?
“There’s a cabin,” Rowan says, barely blinking as he stares at me. Like he can’t bear to miss even a split second of having me in front of him. “Down near the treeline. A thirty minute hike from town—a middle ground, like you said yesterday. It’s for sale, and I want to buy it. If you think you’d like that.”
My bruised heart stutters. I sway in my boots. “If I’d like that?”
Rowan’s jaw firms. “Yes. Because I want you there with me.”
This time when he steps forward, I place my hands on his shoulders and let his arms wind around my waist. My pulse flutters in my throat.
He’s so strong. So warm. So sturdy.
As I gust out a long sigh, a whole load of my agitation slips away too. Because how can I hold a grudge over this? My wild man is wounded—I knew that. Life has not been easy on him, has it?
