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I could feel Rowdy’s steady pulse thrumming against my lips. It magically soothed the agony clawing its way out of my chest. My dad was dead, but Rowdy was still here. His arms were around me, keeping me safe. His hands rubbed my back so deeply that my eyes fluttered in pleasure. God, he smelled good. Dad had smelled good too.
“Fuck, I know, I know, but I need you to look at me,” he pleaded gently. “Can you do that?” I nodded, but I still didn’t lift my head. I stayed put where I knew I was safe from the world. “Come on, baby. Let me see those pretty brown eyes.”
Reluctantly, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. He cradled my face with his hands and used his thumbs to brush away my tears. “I’d miss you,” he told me. “And if you left, I’d follow you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on your bumper, Dream.”
“What if I died?” I threw out jokingly to lighten the heavy mood.
Rowdy didn’t crack a smile as he held my gaze. “Even then.”
I sucked in a shocked breath as the fragmented pieces that used to be my heart feebly rumbled as if stirring—wanting to piece themselves back together. “Okay.”
His strong hand continued to rub my back while the other held my hip. “How did he die?”
“Sickle cell. Dad had been sick for a long time before he died.” I debated how much I should confess before adding, “He and my mom were both carriers.” I waited for the implication to click into the place like it had the rare times I told anyone about it. I waited, but Rowdy seemed to take it all in stride. “It’s okay if you want to ask me,” I whispered when he reminded silent.
Rowdy frowned. “Ask you what?”
I pursed my lips, wondering if it truly hadn’t occurred to him or if he simply didn’t care. “If I’m sick, too.” I inhaled deeply. “Sickle cell is genetic, Owen.”
He blinked in surprise and then seemed to recover quickly. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby. I guess I was just processing.”
It felt like a lie, but I let it slide. “It’s okay.”
Rowdy chewed on his lip before saying, “You know you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” I waited a beat and then, “I’m not sick.” I no longer had to wonder if he cared when I felt his chest cave with relief. “I guess Tyler and Kareena decided a one in four chance of their kids inheriting the gene was too risky for them to procreate.” Rowdy’s brows dipped in confusion again as he tried to decipher my meaning, so I decided to put him out of misery. “I’m adopted, Owen.”
Rowdy jolted in surprise underneath me. “Word? Fuck,” he breathed out. “I didn’t know that.”
I chuckled awkwardly. “It’s okay. Why would you?”
I guess it was all too heavy for Rowdy because he reached around me and grabbed his drink. “Did you know?” he asked me after draining the glass.
“No.” I wrung my hands in my lap. “Not until after Dad was on his deathbed, and I tried to donate my marrow to save his life. My mother refused and would never say why, no matter how much I begged. She just let himdie.”
“Your mom probably didn’t want you to feel guilty if it didn’t work or put you through that kind of procedure. I heard that shit was painful.”
I already knew all of that but didn’t care. It would have been worth it. I would have taken every ounce of pain even if it had only bought me one more day with him. Rowdy and I fell silent, lost in our thoughts. My voice was barely a whisper when I finally spoke again. “Do you know the odds of having a child with a negative blood type if the parents are both positive?”
He grimaced as he rubbed his forehead. “Probably low, but that doesn’t mean anything, Atlas. Now, to be honest, science was a blur, but I do remember that much. It’s arecessivegene, Dream. Invisible but still present and able to be passed on. You’d have to go back generations on both sides to be sure, and even then…”
“I’m sure.”
I felt his hands tighten around me in silent comfort. “How?”
“My dad.” I blinked away the fresh wave of tears at the memory of him using the last of his strength to bring me closure and beg my forgiveness. “My mom still refused to tell me the truth, but Dad finally admitted it before he died. He said he didn’t want me living with the guilt of thinking there was anything I could have done.”
“They wanted to protect you.”
I shrugged as I stared at my hands in my lap. “Maybe.”
Rowdy’s hands began moving again, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the deep strokes all over my body as he used physical stimulation to distract me from the emotional pain. I didn’t want to admit how much it worked. I just prayed he never stopped touching me like this.
It was more soothing than sexual. A reminder that he was here and wasn’t going anywhere.
“What about your mom?” he asked me after a few minutes passed. “How does she feel about you dropping out of school?”
I knew it was impossible, but it almost seemed like he already knew the answer. I guess that, in a way, he did since I wasn’t aware of too many parents who would be excited to learn their kid had dropped out of school and moved across the state without telling them.
