I sigh and look up at the ceiling. The faint water stain above the light fixture suddenly becomes fascinating. Who cares what it costs me? I mean, I’m moving, and Rowan is graduating and will be off to some high-dollar firm. Surely, he won’t still be cashing in IOUs when he’s grown. Will he? Knowing him, he’d have them itemized, notarized, and accruing interest.
I take another look at the man in front of me, who is, for once, dressed in casual clothes like he really has been moving furniture. Faded jeans. A dark T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Hair a little messy. Sleeves pushed up. No suit, and no polished charm. Just Rowan, somehow more dangerous dressed down than dressed up. Does he really want me after everything I’ve put him through? After every time I’ve chosen panic over trust?
I shake my head and face him. “I want to know. Whatever it costs me, I’ll pay it.” The words come out steadier than I feel, though my stomach twists like it knows I’ve just signed something binding.
“Deal.” He’s quick to seal my fate. Too quick. Like he’s been waiting for that exact sentence. “Rhys will contact you tonight with the information you desire.”
Okay, so now we’re back to business. Of course, we are. Leave it to Rowan to turn emotional need into a formal transaction. Somewhere in the distance, I can practically hear a gavel.
“And repayment?” I’m moving out tonight regardless. He can track me down if he wants me to pay some dumb IOU, but he won’t. You know how I know? He let me leave the last time I ran. He stood there and let me choose distance, and men like Rowan don’t usually make the same mistake twice.
The smile on his face can only be described as evil. “Waffles.”
My heart drops clear out of my chest and falls to my toes. “What?” The room narrows instantly.
“I want Waffles,” he clarifies for me. His tone is maddeningly calm, as if he’s requested a lamp and not my emotional support goblin.
“No, you don’t.” No. He doesn’t even like the dog. Why would he want him? He calls him names. He complains about the shedding.
He drags a finger over my lips sensually and then steps to the side. The touch is brief, warm, devastatingly casual. A distraction tactic, and an effective one.
“Wait!” I grab his arm and pull as hard as I can to prevent him from making his way to Waffles. “Please don’t take him.” Panic flashes through me so fast it tastes metallic. Waffles snores softly from the bed, blissfully unaware that custody negotiations have begun.
Politely, Rowan removes my hand. The courtesy somehow makes it worse. “I told you, Whitmore. Leaving me has its price. This time, I’m not offering you a freebie.” His eyes hold mine while his mouth curves like he’s enjoying every second of my outrage.
“The first-years will help you load a moving truck. After that, it’s up to you where it goes.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tessa
Icried the minute Rowan left.
The second the door clicked shut behind him, everything I’d been holding upright inside myself collapsed in a heap. Tears came hot and fast, the kind that make your throat ache before they ever reach your eyes. I sank onto the nearest box because my knees suddenly forgot their purpose.
Not because of Waffles—I’ll steal him back with absolutely no hesitation. If I’m willing to risk my freedom to rescue him from the animal shelter, I’ll damn well steal him back from Rowan. I’d scale a balcony or cut power to the building if necessary.
Waffles is family.
But I know why Rowan chose Waffles as payment.
He thinks Waffles is the only one I care about. He thinks the dog is the softest place in me, the one pressure point guaranteed to make me come back. Maybe he believes I’d fight for a dog faster than I’d ever fight for him. Maybe he’s right to think that after everything I’ve shown him.
That’s not true. I care about Rowan, too. I’m just confused.
Back in undergrad, I loved Rowan with all my heart and soul. I loved him with the reckless certainty only young women and fools possess. I loved the way he took up space as if he’d earnedit. I loved the sharp mind, the sharper mouth, and the rare smiles that felt like prizes. I loved how he made me feel seen and challenged and chosen all at once.
But then this weight of emotions pressed down on me, and I couldn’t breathe. Love stopped feeling like sunlight and started feeling like standing under deep water. Every expectation, every fear, every old mistake I’d never forgiven myself for settled on my chest until I was drowning in something beautiful. I couldn’t love him the way he deserved. At least, I felt like I couldn’t.
I know now that I was capable, but I needed to figure out myself first. I needed to become someone who didn’t apologize for existing.
And now, do I even know who that person is?
I think so. Some days, I catch glimpses of her. In therapy appointments. In hard boundaries. In mornings when I choose honesty over pleasing people. In moments where I speak and don’t immediately regret taking up air. But glimpses are not the same thing as certainty.
But am I the girl who fights the force of the past and takes the life she wants, or am I the girl who just starts over fresh? Do I plant my feet and claim joy where the wreckage happened, or do I run somewhere quiet and call it healing? Do I choose courage, or do I choose escape?
I have no idea.
