Page 113 of Stolen Rebel

Chapter 51

LIAM

I’ve never been one for talking to strangers about anything, let alone my fucking feelings, for Christ’s sake, but if couple’s therapy with Rowan can help cure the pain in my gut every single time I think about her with him, it’ll be worth it. That fucker has sharp teeth and even sharper claws. The nightly bleeding out when I’m awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling and wishing I could kill that bastard Murray all over again is starting to wear me down. Something’s gotta give, and if the cost of that is an hour on a therapist’s couch once a week, then so be it.

Today’s our third session. Siobhan came highly recommended, but I’m still not at the spill-my-guts stage, leaving Rowan to do most of the talking. Doesn’t mean I’m not listening, though. Just hearing her talk about what she went through, both while we were apart, and after I stole her from that London pub, causes a river of shame to run through me.

Yes, I thought she’d betrayed me, and yes, Murray head-fucked me over and over again, but I should’ve known. I should’ve trusted my gut, trusted Rowan’s love for me to know something was off.

Instead, I spent five years in a hate spiral that, when I stumbled upon her in that pub, spilled out in a vile stream and almost drowned us both.

I kept her strapped to a chair in a warehouse, for fuck’s sake, for two whole days. And even when I brought her back to Ireland, I kept her locked up like a fucking animal.

Rowan’s hand lands on my thigh. “What were you thinking just then?”

I skim her face, so earnest, so fucking forgiving. “What a shite I was to you when I found you in London.”

“Care to expand, Liam?” Siobhan pins me with her gaze.

No. I fucking don’t care to expand. But Rowan deserves more. She deserves me to feel pain for the way I was with her, for every cruel, hurtful thing I said or did. I shift uncomfortably.

“I’m kicking myself for not seeing through the play. I should have known you’d never set me up, never willingly hurt me. And the reason I should’ve known that…” I twist on the couch, locking eyes with my Rebel. “Is because I fucking knew you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Rowan shifts closer, her hands cupping my face, her thumb tracing the scar I believed for years that she’d caused. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you with what I thought I saw. If I had, then none of this would’ve happened. We wouldn’t have lost all those years.”

It’s the second time she’s said something like that. Once a few weeks ago and now again in front of Siobhan. Hearing her take the blame sits like a boulder on my chest. It isn’t her fault. None of this is. It never was. “This is not on you. It’s on me. I was older, wiser. And if you felt you couldn’t come to me, then that’s my fault, too.”

Siobhan lets the silence sit the way I’ve noticed she’s proficient in—long enough that you feel it, not so long it becomes uncomfortable.

“I want to stay with what just happened between you both for a moment,” she says, her voice measured. “It’s significant. You’ve each just taken full responsibility for what went wrong—and done it at the same time, in front of each other.” She pauses. “What I’d like to gently challenge is the idea that responsibility has to be assigned to one person entirely. Liam, you say it isn’t on Rowan. Rowan, you say it isn’t on Liam.”

A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “What if it doesn’t have to live anywhere permanently? What if the more useful question isn’t whose fault? But whether you can both carry what happened without it affecting what you’re building now?”

I stare at Rowan, and she stares at me. Neither of us says anything, Siobhan’s words a heavy weight in my chest. In Rowan’s too, I’d guess.

Damn, she’s good.

Siobhan closes her notebook. “I think that’s a good place to pause today. I’ll see you at the same time next week.”

We break out into the fresh air, both of us taking a deep breath. I pause at the top of the steps. My head’s throbbing, and I feel like I’ve been put through a mincing machine.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asks. “That was… phew. It was a lot.”

“She’s too fucking perceptive for her own good that one,” I mutter.

Rowan chuckles. “That’s kind of her job.”

“Yeah.” I bury my hands in my pockets and look up at the sky. It’s a good day for it. I can’t wait to see Rowan’s reaction to where we’re going next.

“Do you regret agreeing to come?”

“No. Not for a second. I admit, it isn’t easy for me, but it’s what you deserve.”

Her brow furrows. “And what about what you deserve? Don’t you think you’re entitled to peace, to feeling good about yourself?”

I encase her in my arms and press my forehead to hers. “You make me feel good.”

“Liam.” There’s a warning in her tone.