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Being in a new place and not having his own room, my little man didn’t want to sleep alone. Who could blame him when he was in a strange place and had also gotten used to sleeping with me since the fire? Then with him tangled all over me, I’d laid awake nervous, frustrated, and scared.
It felt like I’d just dozed off when Zander flopped his arm toward me, smacking me in the face, and waking me to the early morning light filtering through the cracks in the blinds. Glancing at the clock I groaned. Noticing it was still early, I contemplated trying to go back to sleep but my mind had already started racing.
What would the day bring?
Hoping it wasn’t a run-in with Rowan, I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He was what had kept me up half the night. It was a shock to my system finding him at Gyth’s, and I felt even more unsettled than I had before I showed up.
I jumped into the shower with a wish that it would wash away the troublesome thoughts in my mind and also allow me to not feel like a zombie so I could function for the day. But I truly didn’t know where to begin or what to do. With no home, needing to get away from where I lived, and not having a job, I was in desperate need of some direction. Along with help.
After toweling off, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt that had piles of books on it, with a person peeking out from underneath the stack and it read, ‘Get lost in the story.’ I felt marginally better.
Until I looked in the mirror.
Dark circles underlined my eyes, I’d lost weight, and I looked pale. The woman staring back at me looked like someone who’d seen better days. Things had for sure been rough. I ran my hands down my face and sighed. It was time to turn things around. Hopefully coming to Portland would be good for us and not a mistake.
But if we left, where would we go?
The thought crossed my mind as I walked out of the bedroom trying to be quiet and let my kiddo sleep. As I padded down the hallway, a knock sounded at the front door, and although it was quiet, I still jumped out of my skin.
Getting my bearings, I slowly moved toward the door and went up on my toes to peek through the peephole. I frowned, confused at why someone would knock so early in the morning and walk away. Too curious to let it go, I checked the peephole one more time. When I didn’t see anyone, I dropped back to the flats of my feet and opened the door.
Nobody was there.
But an earthy, woodsy scent that had always short-circuited my brain lingered in the air. And I knew then exactly who’d been outside my door. I just didn’t know why.
Then my eyes caught sight of a white, paper, handle bag, and cup sitting on the ground. It was a damn good thing I hadn’t kicked them. Squatting down, I picked up the paper cup with the plastic lid and my breath caught when I saw the writing on the outside.
‘Brin, it’s just how you like it.’
It may have been Rowan but how would he know what I liked anymore or even remember anything about me? He only cared about himself.
Yet he brought you coffee.
Wasn’t I the one who’d just been resting in bed praying there was such a thing as a coffee fairy? I just never imagined it would be in the form of Rowan.
Grabbing the items, I stood and took one last look both ways down the hall to make sure nobody was watching me. Then because I couldn't help myself, I took one more whiff and inhaled before quickly shutting the door. Rowan’s scent was like a drug.
Addicting.
I spun around and headed to the marble kitchen island and set the stuff down. I stepped back and stared at it. What if he didn’t know me at all and everything he brought was stuff I hated? How would that make me feel?
Or what if he was right?
Maybe that feeling would be worse.
He made me lose my mind. Always had. Rowan was infuriating, reckless, exhilarating, charismatic, and as much as I hate to say it, he also was sweet. But his free spirit and fear of attachment always outweighed softer feelings.
As one of his best friends, it had been difficult at times but our friendship had been worth it. He watched over me just like Luke had. And he needed me as much as I had him.
But as someone whose heart had been invested differently, it crushed me to the core. I learned to deal with it, live with it, and move on. So how was it that I was right back where I had been before with so many emotions circling my system like a swarm of bees ready to sting?
I wasn’t sure but the need to see what was in the cup was calling my name and I reached for it, taking a small sip.
A moan escaped me and a tingle raced up my spine.
He remembered.
The smooth, strong taste of a banana nut, white-mocha latte hit my tongue and warmed my throat. I was crazy for anything banana flavored and that hadn’t changed. How did he remember that?
