Page 47 of Stolen Rebel

The words sound stilted even to me. Small talk is not something I’m proficient in. Nor do I have any interest in becoming proficient. But if putting myself through this fucking charade gets results, I’ll suck it up.

“Yes.” Her voice is small, eyes down. Erin is back in the fucking room. “I liked talking to the customers.”

“Those customers?” I feign surprise. “In that pub?”

The faintest smile curves her lips. It’s only there for half a second, but it punches a great fucking hole in my chest. I got a smile out of her. Better than winning the fucking lottery.

“They were a little rough around the edges, but they were nice to me.”

Just as well. If she’d said they were cunts, I’d have found out who each and every one of them were and jammed a knife between their ribs.

“What did you do outside of work?”

“Read, mostly. Went for walks along the Thames. Nothing earthshattering. Just a normal life.”

Sounds boring as fuck to me. It also sounds like someone trying to make themselves small.

“What about friends?”

She studies me for a long moment, eyes calculating. “Wondering if anyone will miss me and raise the alarm?”

“Not in the slightest.” I pick up my whiskey and take a sip, keeping my eyes on her. She looks away first. How disappointing. These flashes of Rowan are like drops of poison. Each one accumulates in my bloodstream, slowly killing me.

Finally, she picks up the hot chocolate and blows across the top before drinking it. She keeps her hands wrapped around the mug and sets it in her lap. “I had one friend, Willow. But I don’t really have a big social circle.”

At last. A sliver of truth. Rowan didn’t have a big social circle. She was content with it only being us. We were enough for one another. Anyone else would’ve been an intrusion, someone to draw our attention away. Just as well she didn’t have tons of friends. Disappearing when you have lots of buddies wouldn’t be easy. With her mother dead and her father a cowardly bastard who ran out on her mother before Rowan was born, the only person who’d have missed her was me.

And I did. Fuck, how I did. Even with that letter, I still looked for her, hoping that one day I’d stumble upon her. But never in my most outlandish dreams did I think that this is how we’d reunite. With her pretending to be someone else for reasons she won’t tell me.

That girl is terrified, Liam. Whatever is going on with her, she is barely holding it together.

A rush of sorrow hollows out my chest. If what Sorcha said is true and she disappeared to protect me, yet can’t tell me why, then I failed her. I fucking failed her, and it kills me.

I want to scream at her to just fucking tell me. That whoever she’s scared of, I am not. That whoever is keeping her playing this part should fear me, not the other way around.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner. How about a slice of that pie I told you about.”

Her eyes light up. The pleasure I see there doesn’t last long, but it burns itself into my memory.

“I would like that.”

We eat pie and order another round of drinks, but as much as I try to get Erin to talk, she only answers with one or two words, and I’m not skilled enough to charm more out of her.

“Are you done?” I jerk my chin at her mug, my voice harsher than I meant it to be. “It’s okay if you’re not. There’s no rush.”

“No, I’m done.” She stands to put on her coat, but her arm gets stuck.

“Here, let me.” I hold it out for her, and she slides her arm inside. As I pull the coat up, my finger brushes her skin. She gasps, but unlike earlier when she moved away, this time she doesn’t. I hold back a groan. The temptation to kiss her there gnaws at me, but if I do, I risk pushing her further away rather than pulling her close.

Christ, I want to pull her close.

We scythe through the now-crowded pub. A guy making his way to the bar shoulder barges Rowan. I catch her elbow, steadying her.

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” I snap.

“Sorry, love,” he mutters, but instead of carrying on to the bar, he stops and stares at her. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough for all the blood to drain from her face.

“Keep looking at my girl and you’ll lose both your fucking eyes,” I snarl.