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I’m not even sure he’s home.
And if he is…
What if he doesn’t want me here?
What if he regrets offering the place?
What if I’m just a complication he didn’t ask for and doesn’t want to deal with?
What if he has someone home with him?
The thought hits like a cold hand to the back of my neck. My grip tightens on the wheel until the leather bites. I picture boot prints I don’t recognize on his porch, a laugh that isn’t mine drifting through his kitchen, and a lipstick smudge on a glass by the sink. I hate it—hate how fast the jealousy blooms, hot and shameful. He isn’t mine, not like that. I know it. I repeat it. It doesn’t stop the small, ugly ache from settling under my ribs.
“Be normal,” I mutter, practicing a smile that tastes like rain.
But then a gust of wind slams against the side of the car, and I jump, hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. A flash of memory surges—bright lights, muffled voices, that awful helplessness of twitching limbs I can’t control. And just like that, I’m moving.
Out of the car. Up the steps. Knocking on the entry door before I can second-guess myself.
Please be home.
Please not tonight.
Please.
The door swings open with a jolt—and there he is. Shirt wrinkled. Jaw tight. The note I left still folded in his hand.
His eyes widen, just for a second, then narrow.
“Ivy?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He stares at me. “What are you doing here?”
I swallow hard. “There’s a storm.” Ignoring how much that phrase is referencing—the weather, my life, my career, Crew—it’s a hurricane in motion.
His brows pinch together.
I rush to add, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
A beat passes.
“I’m not trying to be a problem,” I say quickly. “I just… I thought…”
A snap of lightning cracks across the sky. He steps aside without a word.
“Get in.”
My relief hits so fast I nearly sag.
I slip past him into the house. It still smells like hay and linen and something warm and earthy beneath it all—Rowan.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
He closes the door behind me with a soft click. Final. But not cold.
“I was just putting away the rest of dinner,” he says after a moment. “Hungry?”
