“No? Then what was it?” My voice rises before I can stop it. “Strategy? Some power play to remind me who’s in control?”
Waffles tugs at the leash, ears flicking. I bend to give him more room, mostly so I don’t have to look at Rowan.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he says quietly.
“Great,” I say. My voice comes out flat. “Thanks for the post-game summary.”
He drags a hand through his hair, the movement tight. “You think this is easy for me?”
I straighten. “You think I care?”
His eyes lift to mine, and the air shifts.
We’re standing too close. The wind off the bay cuts through the space between us, but it doesn’t cool anything. His eyes are dark and unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s angry or fighting something else entirely.
“You left me,” he says quietly. “Don’t act like I’m the villain.”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m indifferent. There’s a difference.”
“No, Whitmore.” His voice drops again. “There’s not.”
My chest aches.
I hate him.
I miss him.
Waffles sneezes and starts eating a stick.
“Can we go back?” My voice comes out thin.
Rowan nods once then starts walking. His steps are long and even, and impossible to keep up with. I fall in beside him because that’s what we do—move together even when we shouldn’t. He doesn’t touch me, but his silence presses against every nerve in my body.
By the time we reach the main house, my jaw hurts from keeping it shut. My pulse hasn’t settled since he saidyou almost kissed me. His expression hasn’t changed, but something about him feels harder now—sharper, quieter.
The floor echoes under our steps, each one sounding louder than it should. The air inside is cooler, and cleaner. Waffles trots ahead, tail swinging.
I focus on him. The leash in my hand. The rhythm of his paws against the floor. Anything that isn’t Rowan’s breathing beside me.
At our door, Rowan slides in the keycard.
The moment we step inside, the space feels tight. The suite isn’t small—it just feels that way now. There’s nowhere to stand that isn’t too close.
The door shuts behind us, and the silence gets heavier.
“Do you want to fight or just sulk in silence?” I ask. My tone’s steadier than I feel. “Because I can do either. I just don’t have the energy to guess.”
Rowan bends to untie his shoes. “You’re the one who ran off,” he says. “Don’t act like I’m the one causing a scene.”
I turn to face him. “Was I supposed to stay and sit through another round of forced fun while Camden talked about his crypto portfolio and you pretended you didn’t almost shove your tongue down my throat?”
His jaw flexes. “I didn’t pretend anything.”
The air snaps between us. “You almost kissed me,” I say, my chest tight. “You had no right.”
He steps forward. “I almost kissed you because I wanted to.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, then, I guess that makes it fine.”
