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“Your five minutes are up. You need to leave.” If it were possible to move my leg, I would knee him in the balls. He deserves that and so much more for the pain he’s caused. Refusing to make this easy, I struggle against the hold he has on me. Rowan made his choice, and now I’m making mine.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says with a grunt, attempting to subdue my movements.
“Ha!” Disbelief bubbles up in my throat. How did I not realize Rowan was delusional? “So, let me understand this correctly,” I snap, “your idea of doing the right thing was to hurt me by messing around with one of my teammates? The very same teammate, I’ll remind you, that has been gunning for me both on and off the field. Wow!” Bitterness drips from every word. “How very thoughtful of you.”
The air deflates from his lungs as he exhales. “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound good.”
“No,” I agree flatly, “it really doesn’t.”
“At the end of the day, all I wanted was to protect you.” Weariness flashes across his face. “Maybe I went about it the wrong way.”
His strange explanation knocks me off-balance, and I still. “Protect me? From what?”
“My past.”
“I don’t understand.” My brows draw together as I search his eyes for clues. “Why would I need protecting from your past?”
Rowan glances away as embarrassment floods his features and darkens his cheeks. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about my family.”
That’s something I’ve noticed. The times I’ve tried to dig deeper, he immediately shuts down and changes the subject. Instead of pushing the issue, I backed off, assuming Rowan would open up when he was comfortable. That never occurred. I know as much about his personal history now as I did before.
“It’s difficult to talk about,” he mutters. “I never wanted you to find out about my father.”
“Rowan,” I say softly, the sharpest parts of my anger dissolving, “you don’t have to tell me.” This is clearly a painful subject for him. Even though I want to understand how his family impacted our relationship or why he set out to hurt me, maybe it no longer matters. What we need is closure so that we can move on.
“It’s important you realize why I pushed you away.” He draws in a steady inhalation as if to steel himself for what will come next. “You’re the last person I would ever want to cause pain, and I’m sorry for that. I can’t say that it wasn’t my intention, because it was. I didn’t see another way.” He pauses for a beat. “Can we please sit down and have this conversation?”
That’s when I realize I’m still locked in his arms, held tightly against his chest.
When I nod, he swings toward the couch with me held securely in his arms. I get the feeling he’s afraid to let me go, even for a moment. The urge to burrow against his chest thrums through me, but I’m not quite ready to do that. I’ve missed Rowan more than I allowed myself to acknowledge, even privately. It was so much easier to push him to the outer recesses of my mind and pretend I hadn’t already given him my heart. With him standing before me, I can no longer do that.
“Do you remember the older guy we ran into on campus a couple of weeks ago?” When I stare, he adds, “It was after stats class.”
I nod as the memory flashes through my head. Something about him had unsettled me. It’s as if my body had gone on high alert.
“That was Scott Michaels.” There’s a pause. “My father.”
“Oh.” Air gets lodged in my throat as my mind spins. That still doesn’t explain why he would feel the need to push me away.
A humorless chuckle escapes from him. “He’s been incarcerated for the last ten years for murder.”
Murder?
The word echoes in my head.
“Your father was in prison for,” I force out the rest, “murder?”
He jerks his head into a tight nod before glancing away as if barely able to hold my gaze. “Yeah. He’s been a petty criminal my entire life and then he fell in with the wrong people and got in over his head.”
I can’t begin to fathom how difficult it would be to grow up with a parent like that. My heart clenches painfully knowing there’s no way to alleviate the hurt and damage that must have been inflicted. Only now do I understand why Rowan is so closed off when it comes to his family. I wish he would have felt safe enough to open up and share this with me.
“Rowan,” I whisper, unsure how to proceed.
He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else. “He’d recently been released from prison, and he started coming around, wanting money from me. The first time it happened, I gave him a good chunk of my savings. I told him that I couldn’t give him anymore, and I didn’t want to see him again. A week later, he showed up on campus.”
