Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Next Move
Nash
The plane ride back to Austin was bittersweet. Bitter, because I was going home to face the loss of my mom head on and sweet because Rowan was going with me. Earlier this morning, as I listened to Rowan explain to the detectives what Conor had done to her, all I could think about was how lucky she was to be alive. When questioned about Conor’s state of mind and intent, Rowan explained that Conor wanted to break her. There was a fine line between breaking someone and destroying them. Given enough time, I was pretty damn sure he would have destroyed her. I’d taken Rowan for granted. I was scared of the enormity of my feelings for her. Then Mom died and I had an excuse to walk away, which was something I’d obviously gotten way too practiced at doing. I didn’t blame Rowan if she had mixed feelings. I didn’t blame her for being scared. She may have harbored secrets, but I was guilty of having had one foot out the door. Well, that was then and this…is now. Almost losing Rowan had forced me to open my eyes and see what was staring me in the face. I now had both feet securely planted. I knew exactly what I wanted and was more than willing to wait for it, no matter how long it took or what I had to do to get it.
As the car pulled up in front of my house, Rowan slid her hand into mine, and I knew what she was thinking. Both good and bad, so much had happened inside those walls.
“Do you want to walk or me to carry you?” I asked. After letting out a snort of disgust, she swung open her door and slowly pulled herself from the car. “Thanks for the ride, man,” I told the driver as I quickly passed him a fifty. By the time he’d popped the trunk and I’d retrieved our bags, Rowan was almost to the front steps. I caught up with her right as she reached the front door. “Hardheaded to the bitter end,” I laughed. She pursed her lips and I couldn’t help but to plant a kiss on them. When I pulled back, she gave me a soft smile. “You ready?” I asked. She nodded, yes, and I inserted the key in the lock. The door swung open and we were greeted by the smell of disinfectant.
“It’s clean.” Rowan’s voice was tinged with relief, and I realized how hard this was for her.
“Once the police cleared it, I had the maid come in and clean.” I watched her scan for traces of Conor, but I’d made sure there were none. Her eyes drifted to Mom’s open bedroom door and held. I knew that we both eventually would have to come to terms with Mom’s death, but today was not the day. Lowering the bags onto the floor, I walked over and closed Mom’s door. Then I turned to Rowan and asked if she was ready to head upstairs to her bedroom.
“You want to talk about it?” She nodded her head at Mom’s door.
“Nope.”
She eyeballed the stairs, and said, “I’m not sure I can climb those yet.” I carefully lifted her into my arms and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. She tensed when we reached the top, and I wondered if she was reliving what Conor had done to her. Between the two of us, we were seven kinds of fucked up. “What’s so funny?” she asked, once I’d opened her door and lowered her onto the mattress. I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, so she explained, “You just laughed, and I want in on the joke.”
“I was just thinking that between the two of us, we are all kinds of fucked up right now.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Tell me about it. Do you want to talk about Maeve?”
“Nope. Do you want to talk about Conor?”
“Nope.” She chewed on her lower lip, and I could tell that she wanted to say something.
“Spit it out,” I told her.
Her beautiful green eyes narrowed at me. “I want to take a shower, but I need you to help me. I can’t use this arm,” she held up her broken arm, “and I still can’t lift my arms above my head.” She got that look on her face, like she was about to burst into tears, and I felt like shit. “If it’s too much of a hassle, I can try and take a bath, but I’m really tired, and I hurt, and I’d like to lie down, but I feel–” Before she could finish the sentence, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to the bathroom.
“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to talk about Mom,” I whispered against the side of her head. This living together business was obviously going to take some adjusting to.
“I won’t bug you about Maeve if you promise not to push me about Conor, okay?” she asked.
“Deal.” I sat her on her feet, and said, “Now, tell me what you need me to do.”
“I’m going to get undressed while you go downstairs and get my bag. I can do most of it, but I need for you to wash my hair.”
“Be right back,” I told her. The moment I stepped out of the bathroom I could breathe again. How in the hell was I supposed to do this? I mean, seriously. I glanced down at my rising cock, and sighed. By the time I made it back upstairs with Rowan’s bag, the shower was running. “What do you need?” I called out.
“My shampoo and conditioner,” she responded.
I found both, and, after taking a deep breath, called out, “I’m coming in.” I stepped into the bathroom and froze when I saw the bruises on her upper chest and stomach.
“Is it that bad?” she asked.
Our eyes met through the shower glass. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, before responding, “If he wasn’t already dead, I would hunt him down and kill him.” Her eyes softened and her lips turned up into a sad smile.
“Thanks, Nash. In the meantime, would you please wash my hair, because my scalp is really starting to itch?” Her sweet tone made my cock twitch.
I would do anything for you, I thought as I stepped up and set the two bottles down on the bathtub ledge. Pouring the shampoo into my hand, I rubbed both hands together before placing them on top of Rowan’s head. Slowly I began to massage the shampoo into her hair. I had it all under control, until I accidentally scraped my nails across her scalp, and she moaned. The sound took me straight back to the night I was balls deep inside her. Thank fuck her eyes were closed, because my cock had no shame.
“God, that feels so good,” she said, and I seriously thought I might bust a nut in my pants. Her tits, capped with the most beautiful nipples I’d ever seen, bounced to the tempo of my fingers as they stroked back and forth through her hair.
“Rinse,” I thickly rasped. Once I’d gotten all of the shampoo out, I lathered her up with conditioner. While massaging it through her hair to her scalp, I tried not to perve on her body, but I was stuck with nowhere to look. Straight ahead and my eyes were on her gorgeous tits. Down, and I was staring between her legs. I would give anything to taste her right now. My cock strained uncomfortably against my zipper. “Rinse,” I rasped again.
“I can take it from here. Thanks, Nash,” she said after I helped her rinse the conditioner from her hair. I stayed long enough to dry her off and help her get her top on, and, with one last glance at her gorgeous body, I fled to the comfort of my room, where I quickly stripped off my jeans and my boxers, and took care of business. By the time Rowan was ready to go downstairs I had it back under control…or so I thought.
* * *
It took a week before Rowan was finally able to wash her own hair. It was a week of staring at her naked body every day and then racing back to my room and jacking my cock like a fifteen year old. Never, in my entire life, had I wanted anything more than I wanted Rowan Burns, but she’d made it clear. She was hurting and confused, and as much as I wanted to take advantage of the situation, I wouldn’t. So I cooked our meals, cleaned up our messes, and became the perfect caregiver. The positive was that I could see Rowan getting stronger. The negative was my inability to resist her. She was a siren, a seductress in sexy pajamas. The harder I fought, the more I wanted her. I found myself lurking outside her bedroom and waiting for her to call out my name. She was killing me slowly, and I was happy to let her.
Living with Rowan was not without its faults. It definitely took some getting used to. Living with Mom was easy. She knew my quirks, and I knew hers. Rowan, however, was a different story. Even though we knew each other, we still had so much to figure out. By the end of week one I’d learned that she hated being told what to do, loved her hamburgers and french fries slathered in ketchup, mayonnaise, and mustard, and absolutely hated being confined to her bedroom. Whenever I carried her downstairs to hang out with me, her mood would immediately improve, so I made an effort to get her downstairs as much as possible.
Our first real argument came at the beginning of week two when my lawyer, John, showed up with papers for Rowan to sign. When he explained that Mom had left half of the house to Rowan in her will, Rowan turned to me in surprise, and said, “I thought you were kidding.” In her usual bullheaded fashion, she then outright refused to sign the papers on the grounds that it was my house, and not hers. When I told John to hold off for a week or so, she got angry with me…as in really angry. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. It’s not like we weren’t already living together. When I approached her about it after John was long gone, she blew her top.
“I’m not Rowan Burns, Nash! Rowan Burns doesn’t exist. Legally, I can’t own anything, because I don’t exist!” she’d shouted.
“Babe, all we have to do is get your name changed. Plus, my lawyer says that he simply has to submit proof to the probate court that you are the same person that Mom intended to leave her interest in the house to.” From the look on her face, I could tell I’d surprised her with my suggestion. I could also tell that she was seriously mulling it over.
“I can do that now, can’t I?” she finally asked.
“You can.”
“But…I don’t want to own half of this house.” My heart dropped at the conviction behind her words.
“Can I ask why?”
“Because it would make me your roommate,” she responded. Her answer made no sense to me.
“And that would be a bad thing?”
Her gaze lifted to mine. She looked conflicted. Maybe she was right not to sign those papers. Hell, if she was planning on walking away, then it was a good thing she hadn’t. For the first time since we’d been home, she asked to go back to her room, and I was more than happy to oblige.
Neither of us mentioned John’s visit after that day, but it remained at the back of my mind. Rowan didn’t seem to be making moves to leave, but she hadn’t completely unpacked either. The duffle Garrett had given her sat like a ticking time bomb at the bottom of her closet. Each time I stepped into her room and saw it sitting there, taunting and teasing me, my frustration increased. I wanted Rowan here, forever. Why couldn’t she see that?
Around the fourteenth night of what I called “The Resistance,” Rowan nodded off during the movie we were watching. For the past few days she’d refused her nightly pain medication. I’d mentioned it to Mallory on the phone when Grant had called and she said that Rowan knew her own body, and to give her space. I was worried that she was overdoing it, but she claimed that the meds dulled everything, and she was ready to feel again. After flipping off the movie and making sure the downstairs doors were locked, I carried Rowan upstairs to her bed. I wanted to talk to her about us, our relationship, her feelings, but I didn’t want to rush her. When I asked her to come home with me, I’d left things in her court. What if she never made the next move? I was starting to think she didn’t feel the same for me as I did for her. I kept playing that day she’d called me from Conor’s apartment over and over in my head, and the words she’d spoken. “I’m sorry. I love you.” What had she meant by that? Did she love me, love me, or just love me as a friend? I wasn’t sure, but the wondering was beginning to drive me crazy.
Once I made sure Rowan was asleep, I crawled into my own bed. I felt defeated. Not only was I feeling Rowan’s distance, I was also having a hard time living in this house. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of my mother. I missed her. I missed her sense of humor. I missed her never ending support. Most of all, I missed her love. I was afraid to go to sleep at night for fear of dreaming about her. I dreaded going downstairs each morning and facing the emptiness. I wanted to move, but her ashes were scattered in the backyard and I didn’t want to leave her here alone.
I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I was scared awake by a blood curdling scream coming from Rowan’s room. Without stopping to think, I shot from the bed and ran down the hall. Rowan was sitting up in her bed, her eyes haunted.
“You’re okay,” I told her as I sank down next to her on the bed.
“He was here. I was running. He was chasing me,” she panted.
“It was a nightmare. He’s dead,” I whispered against the back of her head. Slowly, she allowed me to lower her down into the crook of my arm. Finally, her breathing began to slow.
After several minutes, she said, “It seemed so real.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I went downstairs to make coffee. Mallory was coming to pick me up. I was so excited to go shopping with her. I passed by the living room on the way to the stairs, and something caught my eye. It was so real, Nash, as if I was back there in the moment.” She shuddered, and I gently stroked my hand up and down her arm. “He was sitting in your mom’s favorite chair with an evil smirk on his face. I took off running. God, I’ve never been as scared of anything in my whole life as I was of him in that moment. I woke up right as he tackled me.”
“You’re okay. I’m here now. I’m sorry you had to go through that. If I could take it all away, I would.”
“Nash?”
“Hmmm?”
“Will you please stay with me tonight? I wouldn’t ask, except–”
“I’ll stay,” I said, cutting her off.
“Thanks,” she whispered. We lay in silence for so long that I started to drift back to sleep. I roused when I felt her head turn. “Nash?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m really glad you’re here with me.”
Her mouth was inches away, and way too hard to resist, so I responded by gently pressing my lips to hers. She immediately opened up, and the tips of our tongues slowly touched. I wanted more. I wanted to touch her, taste her, devour her, but this was her call to make, not mine. She sighed against my lips. Hesitantly I pulled back from the kiss. As I settled her back into the crook of my arm, I whispered, “Sleep.” Once her breathing slowed, and I knew she was asleep, I allowed myself to relax.
I woke the next morning to the best feeling in the world. Rowan pressed against me with her hand down my pants. Praying she wasn’t sleep groping, I slowly cracked open my eyes.
Gorgeous, green eyes were staring down at me. She let out a sultry little laugh that my already engorged cock seemed to really like. “I see you peeking,” she teased as she slowly began to push my pants down. She bit her bottom lip in concentration as she masterfully stroked her hand up and down my cock. God, it felt so good. Better than music or movies. Better than…well, anything. I’d dreamt about this, wanted this, all but begged for this, but I had to know if it was real, because if it wasn’t, this woman was going to shatter me. Her eyes shot to mine and her brow arched in question as I halted her forward motion.
“I want this with you more than anything in the world, but not if it’s not real,” I told her.
“Okay,” she quickly responded.
“Okay?” I asked, clearly confused.
She pushed my hand away and smiled as she picked the pace back up. “Does it feel real?”
“You have no idea,” I panted.
“I think maybe I do,” she responded. “Now lay back and let me take care of you for a change.”
Happily, I complied.