Using every ounce of strength I have, I shake my head. No. I’m not leaving. I’m staying with her.
Rowan groans like I’ve just ruined his whole day. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? Fine. Stay here. Stick around. Face the consequences of your actions. Good fucking luck with your future endeavors, asshole.”
He storms toward the door. I watch him go, the anger and frustration simmering just below the surface of my useless body.
Good luck? Yeah, I’ll need it. But not for the reasons he thinks.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Haydn
Rowan is notthe guy I was expecting to be Keane’s brother. Not that I’d built any specific image of him in my head. Unlike his famous family, he has no digital footprint to speak of. When I asked Lang to dig up some info on him, Lang came back with almost nothing. Something about “confidentiality” and Rowannot wanting to get dragged into celebro-drama. I don’t even think that’s a term, but I stopped asking questions and let him be.
But now, watching Rowan stride out of Keane’s room like he owns the place, his confidence practically radiating, I can’t shake the feeling that Lang’s silence was intentional. Lang has always been cryptic and damn good at keeping other people’s secrets. Do I want to know what Rowan’s hiding? Fuck yes. Especially if he plans to be around Ophelia. But I guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own.
When Rowan reappears, there’s no attempt at small talk. He stops in front of us, his focus zeroed in on Ophelia like she’s a problem he’s been called in to solve. “We—Keane and I—agreed it’ll be best if I take him with me,” he announces, his tone clipped, as if he’s sealing a business deal instead of discussing someone’s life.
I want to point out the obvious: Keane can’t fucking talk, let alone make decisions. But honestly? The idea of them both leaving isn’t the worst thing. This shouldn’t be Pia’s problem.
Ophelia, however, isn’t about to let Rowan steamroll her. “Nope,” she says, her arms crossing as she meets his gaze head-on. “You’re just going to send him to some center or dump him in the family house and leave him to fend for himself. That’s not happening.”
Rowan’s jaw tightens, his expression hardening. “He doesn’t even remember you,” he snaps, his voice rising just enough to show his irritation.
“And he remembers you?” she shoots back, laughing bitterly.
He smirks, clearly unbothered. “Yep. He even complimented my hair—or something close to it. Hard to tell, but he knows me.”
Ophelia’s voice drops, but the hurt in it is impossible to miss. “He remembers you and not me?”
“What can I say, babe?” Rowan shrugs one shoulder, his tone casual to the point of cruel. “I’m the one who’s dealt with his miserable ass since my parents brought him home from the hospital drooling and crapping.”
Then he burst into laughter. “Fuck, he’s back in the same place. Anywho, it’s thirty-six years of brotherhood and that tends to leave a mark.”
Pia shakes her head, her frustration simmering. “If his presence is so miserable, why do you want to keep him around?”
“Because as I pointed out, he’s my brother,” Rowan says, leaning forward slightly, the challenge clear in his stance. “And why do you want to keep him? This isn’t about him—it’s about you not being able to let go. If you really cared, you’d let me take him somewhere professional. Somewhere he can actually get help.”
Ophelia’s fire doesn’t waver. “I do care about him,” she says sharply. “That’s why I’m not handing him over to you. He needs people who won’t give up on him, not someone checking a box out of guilt.”
Her voice softens, but her resolve doesn’t. “If you care about him, Rowan, then be here. Be involved. Be the brother he needs. But don’t expect me to hand him over to you just because it’s easier for you.”
Her words hit their mark, and for a moment, Rowan falters. But he recovers quickly, his lips pressing into a thin, determined line. “And what’s your big plan, Ophelia? Play nurse until he magically turns into the guy you remember? You think love is enough to fix this?”
“I don’t think it’s enough,” she replies, her voice steady. “But I have a team in place. I know he needs more than just me—but he also needs people who believe in him, who love him.”
I shift my stance, my fists clenching at my sides. I want to say Rowan has a point, that maybe Keane being far away would bebetter for all of us. But then I see the determination in Ophelia’s eyes, the quiet, yet deadly resolve that says she’s going to fight for Keane.
Rowan lets out a harsh laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible,” he mutters. “Fine. Keep him. But don’t come crying to me when your perfect little life goes to shit. I won’t take him when you realize you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”
He turns on his heel, his boots thudding against the floor as he stalks toward the door. I catch up to him, grabbing the door before it can slam behind him.
“Rowan,” I say, my voice steady but edged with urgency. “What do you mean her life will blow up?”
“That’s not exactly the phrase I used,” he replies with a scoff, his expression clouding over. “But yeah, that’s what’s going to happen.” He meets my gaze, his look daring me to challenge him. “My parents protected Keane—hid a lot of things. That accident and his funeral weren’t just random events. And now, she’s caught up in the fallout. It’s all connected. Do the math.”
My stomach churns, unease prickling at the edges of my thoughts. “How does this affect Pia?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Pia?”
