Page 123 of None Of Your Business

From upstairs comes one final, wounded “Motherfucker.”

There are moments in life when denial remains a viable option. This isn’t one of them.

Beckett’s mouth drops open. “Rowan is the only person I know that swears that much.”

I step outside, pull the door shut behind me, and point toward the far end of the porch. “Over there.”

“She slept here?”

“No,” I say, folding my arms. “She arrived at dawn to test my furniture with her toes.”

He blows out a breath and looks toward the street. “She’s Madison’s kid sister. She’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence unless you’re about to say she’s a grown woman and is perfectly capable of deciding whose bed she wants to be in. Speaking of Madison—aren’t you eight years older than her? Go fucking preach to someone else, Beck. You’re only losing your mind because you know Madison won’t like it. Because you all look at Rowan like she’s incapable of making her own choices.”

“Shit,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen you turn down more women than I can count without so much as an apology, and now you’re standing here defending Rowan’s honor.”

“She’s not just any woman.”

The words come out more certain than I expect them to, but I don’t take them back.

He drags a hand through his hair. “So this all happened after her show?”

“No.”

“No?” His eyebrows go up.

How the hell do I explain this while protecting Rowan’s privacy?

“She… wandered into the study.” That’s the best I can come up with.

“At Westbrook?”

I nod.

“She wandered into your study?” he asks, confused.

“She’s got a way of sticking somewhere once she’s in it.” I shrug, keeping my eyes on the driveway.

“And what, you just let her stay?”

“It’s complicated. We reached an arrangement. She’s not in the cohort, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. What was she even doing at the medical center in the first place?”

I let the silence sit there a beat too long before I answer. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Is she alright?”

“I’m a little worried about her toes right now—”

“You know what I mean.”

I hold his gaze. “Not my story.”