The house is exactly something I’d expect Brady Kane to build for himself. The cute wraparound porch looks empty but well-loved, with a bench swing and
a series of rocking chairs moving softly from the wind. It’s a house built for a family, and I can imagine he spent many years here with his.
I walk up the steps. My hand hovers over the doorbell, but I’m hesitant to press the button.
Might as well hurry up and get tonight over with. I press the doorbell and wait. The wood door creaks open less than a minute later, and I’m hit with a version of Rowan I’ve yet to see. I blink twice to confirm he’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He has a new pair of glasses, this time with a tortoise-shell pattern.
My eyes drag across the contours of his body before landing on his naked feet. His entire outfit seems like a completely unfair war tactic against my racing heart. It’s… He’s… Ugh!
I frown. “Hi.”
He makes a show of checking me out. Somehow, he makes my bell-bottom jeans and vintage T-shirt feel inappropriate.
He opens the door wider, giving me space to enter. But not enough, because his body remains in the middle of the door frame, forcing our skin to brush against each other.
He leads me toward a dimly lit living room fit for a family of fifty. The massive couch reminds me of a cloud I want to dive into while the carpet is plush enough to take a nap on.
He points me toward a cushion on the floor.
“This seems an awful lot like a date,” I mutter under my breath.
“Don’t be difficult. I know you’re hungry.”
I glare at him, hating that he’s right. I drop onto the cushion and cross my legs. He grabs the bag, removes the cartons, and serves me a plate of my favorite pad Thai. My stupid heart betrays me, clenching at the smallest hint of Rowan’s attention to detail.
Get a grip. It’s just dinner.
I straighten my spine. “Well. Let’s hear your apology.” “Eat first.”
I roll my eyes at his command and keep my hands settled on my lap.
He sighs. “Please eat? I don’t want it to get cold.”
A ghost of a smile crosses my lips at his request. I only comply because I’m starving. Rowan takes a bite of his food with every bit of elegance I expect from American royalty. If only I looked half that good while eating.
We both eat in silence. I hate it enough to speak up because I can’t take it anymore.
“So you like to draw?”
His fork clatters against the plate.
Well, aren’t I the queen of casual conversations? I grin at my plate because making Rowan uncomfortable has become my new favorite game tonight.
He picks up his fork and twirls some noodles. “I used to love drawing.”
“Why did you stop?”
Rowan’s shoulders tense before he releases a shaky breath. “Why do most people stop doing things they love?”
I relate to that question. After everything Lance did, I stopped wanting to create anything. I paused my dreams because it seemed easier than facing the pain of his betrayal. The path of least resistance included shutting down things I loved because I was too afraid of the backlash.
At least until Rowan threw me out of my comfort zone. And for that, I’m indebted to him. It doesn’t make his choices correct, but it makes me a bit more forgiving. Because without him taking a chance on my drunken proposal, I wouldn’t have finally let go of the last bit of hurt holding me back.
The only person who has power over me is myself. Not Lance. Not my past mistakes. And definitely not fear.
I pluck at a loose thread on my jeans. “I’m not asking about people. I’m asking about you.”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” “If apologizing was easy, everyone would do it.”
He readjusts his glasses in a way that has my thighs pressing together to stop the dull throb. I swear he only wore them to wear me down.
“My grandpa got me into drawing at a very young age.” I stay silent and waiting, not wanting to spook him.
“He always had a special something with my brothers and me, and drawing happened to be our thing. I was the only artistic one of my family besides him so I think he enjoyed having that kind of connection.”
“That’s sweet.”
His lips press together in a thin line. “The bond I had with my grandfather was different from the one I shared with my father. And I think that frustrated my father. He was never artsy and that was all I wanted to do as a kid. It was like he didn’t know how to connect with me in a way that didn’t involve throwing a ball around.” His eyes seem
distant like he’s picturing his life at another time. “I don’t remember my parents arguing much, but when they did, it was usually about me.” He winces. “Dad would get angry because he didn’t know how to bond with me, so Mom would cry. It got particularly worse once my mom got sick. I think she was worried my father and I would never be close, and she wouldn’t be there to help us.”
My entire chest aches at the look on Rowan’s face. “Cancer, right?”
His throat bobs as he nods.
“I’m sorry.” I grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
He clears his throat and looks down at his plate. “That was the start of my rocky relationship with my father. Eventually, I gave up on drawing and moved on to more appropriate activities that were expected of me.”
I want to beg him to tell me all the stories because I’m desperate to learn more about the man sitting across from me. Rowan’s probably spent years with pent-up emotions. The way he speaks of his mother, laced with pain breaking through his emotionless facade, has my heart cracking.
“What made you want to stop?” “It’s…complex.”
I think he might hold back, but he continues. “He might have not intentionally told me to stop, but he made sure to take the joy out of it. Whenever I had an exhibition, he wouldn’t show up, so I had to watch all the other kids’ parents celebrate while I stood there by myself. It got to the point that I refused to participate anymore, despite my grandfather trying. Then there was a time that he found all the old cards I drew for my mom while she was in the hospital—” His voice shakes. “He ruined them because he felt like it. They were some of the last memories I had of her, and they were gone after a drunken rampage.”
“Drunken rampage?”
A vein in his jaw ticks. “Forget I said anything about that.”
But I can’t. I want to go back in time and protect Rowan. “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it.” I reach out and
place my palm on his clenched fist.
“I owe you after everything.” He releases it, giving me room to interlace our fingers.
I give his hand another squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not going to use an apology as a way to pull information out of you. It’s your choice to share your past.”
He looks at me. As if his eyes are gauging my soul, assessing me for deception. “You mean that?”
“Of course. But will you tell me what made you want to start drawing again? If that’s okay.”
He nods. “Because your drawings were terrible, and I had this burning desire to help you.”
“You started drawing again because of me?” “Yes,” he mumbles under his breath.
I smile and nod. “Oh, wow. Why?”
“You almost cried during your first presentation.”
“And?” This is the same man who told me he had no fucks to give. His wanting to help me without even really knowing me…it makes no sense.
“In the beginning, I only wanted to help you because I thought it was beneficial for me. You have the kind of talent I was looking for to renovate the park and make sure—” He blinks twice, catching himself mid-sentence.
“Make sure what?”
“Make sure I make my grandfather happy.” He frowns again. Does he hate the idea of needing to lean on someone?
“I understand. You have a lot of pressure riding on this project.”
“You have no idea,” he grumbles under his breath. “Why didn’t you hire someone else to help me?”
“I thought of it but didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Because my common sense escaped me.”
“Or you liked me.” I try my hardest not to smile but fail miserably.
“Definitely not. I found you oddly annoying and way too nice at the time.”
I lean over the coffee table and give his shoulder a shove. “Hey! There’s no such thing as being too nice.”
“There is where I come from.” “And that is?”
His eyes reflect enough disgust to nauseate me. “A place where people smile too brightly or talk too sweetly because they have every intention of using it against me. It’s the whole damn reason I’m cynical in the first place.”
“That sounds awful.”
“I’m sure you would be horrified to know what kind of people are lurking beyond the park’s pearly gates. Dreamland really is some fantasy. It’s like this whole damn place is untouched by the real world.”
“Tell me about what you had to deal with then. Help me understand why you are the way you are.”
His fists clench against the coffee table. “You really want to know?”
I nod.
“Fine. But it’s not pretty.” “The truth usually isn’t.”
He blinks at me. His eyes drag from my face to his clenched fists, where he opens and closes them repeatedly.
He sighs after what feels like a minute of silence. “My first real taste of the scum of the Earth started in college when a random girl invited me back to her dorm after a party.”
My appetite shifts to nausea at the mention of him being with someone else.
“Before, I had only dealt with the typical stupid teen stuff—like people using me for a private jet or a trip to
Cabo.”
“Oh yeah, the typical stuff.”
He cracks the saddest smile before it falls flat. “Well, where I came from, people have used me throughout my life, but it had never taken a turn toward anything illegal until I became an adult. College was eye-opening. I lost my virginity while unknowingly being filmed with a hidden camera. It cost my father a lot of money to sweep that issue under the rug before she went to the media with the tape.”
The food I ate doesn’t sit well with his admission. “Are you serious? That’s disgusting! Why would you pay her off? She’s the one in the wrong.”
“Because I wasn’t going to risk it. A tape like that could be devastating if it got out, so we paid her to stay quiet and turn it over.”
I can’t do anything but stare at him.
He lets out a bitter laugh. I’ve never heard it before, and I hope I don’t listen to it again because it makes my entire body chilled to the bone. “That was only my first experience. College was full of shit but even that was tame compared to adulthood.”
“Oh God. There are things worse than blackmail?” Seriously, I thought money meant security, but realistically, it only further complicates life.
He nods. “I’ve dealt with it all. Women stabbing sealed condoms with safety pins when they thought I wasn’t looking. Someone trying to drug my drink at a bar. There was this one ti—”
I wave my hand. “How could you talk about this like it doesn’t bother you?”
He frowns. “Because I got to a point where I learned to expect it from other people. You can’t be bothered by something you already anticipate happening.”
“I thought these kinds of things only happened in movies.” I don’t know what makes me more ill—the idea of
Rowan with another woman or a woman trying to purposefully trap him with a baby.
“I’m only scraping the surface. Each situation was a learning lesson for me—a way to prove that my brothers were right about how shitty people are.”
My lips part. “How did you survive growing up in a place like that?”
“Because you either bend to the will of monsters or you easily become the prey.”
I blink twice, waiting for the end of the joke, yet Rowan’s jaw remains clamped shut.
“Is that why you lied? Because you’re so used to people doing the same thing to you?”
There it is. The truth laid out right in front of us, waiting for his confirmation.
“I did it because I thought I was justified. I had no reason to trust you at all, and I never imagined I would feel all this.”
“Feel what?”
He lifts his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I’m bound to fuck all this up.”
I release a shaky breath. “Okay, well, try your best not to.”
He pushes his plate away from him. “My initial reason for speaking to you was selfish and cruel. I was interested in uncovering the kind of person you were. I honestly thought you were a fraud, and I wanted to prove myself right.”
His words hurt. I thought his intentions might have been
misplaced but sweet, but this alternative is the worst-case scenario.
“I feel sorry for someone like you who grew up surrounded by so many vicious people. I really do.”
His upper lip curls. “There’s a reason we live by the motto money over morals.”
“There are two ways to be rich in life, and one of them has nothing to do with a bank account.”
“I see that now. I see that in you.”
My heartbeat picks up, pounding harder against my sternum as if it wants to tell Rowan it’s listening too.
His eyes remain locked on mine. “I thought you would extort me for money after that kiss. Part of me anticipated it, if only to prove you were just as selfish as the rest of us. Because how could you not want to milk me for money if I harassed you like I did. There were times I even wondered if you would attempt something else to only exacerbate the issue.”
“That’s sad, Rowan. I told you I wouldn’t do that.” “I don’t have a good track history with trust.” “Yeah, I see.” And it makes me so damn sad.
I walked in here expecting to not fall for anything Rowan said because in my head, I thought nothing would be good enough. But this reality…it’s tragic. The kind of life he has lived up until this point is anxiety-provoking. I’d rather be poor and happy than rich and miserable any day of the year.
“You proved me wrong every time you spoke to me. You didn’t even know who I was and you were willing to make me feel like I mattered to someone.”
My whole resolve crumbles in front of me like a house of cards.
“I was proud to make your drawings. It made me feel happy to make you happy.” His voice cracks and I feel the sound straight through my heart.
His eyes find mine. “As I spent time getting to know you, I confirmed my deepest suspicion in a completely different way. You are so much more than you let on—but in a way that makes you priceless.”
Priceless? Don’t you dare cry, Zahra.
“You’re selfless, caring, and willing to go above and beyond to help those around you. You tutor kids for free,
and you bring a grumpy old man bread and cookies. And the selfish part of me wanted to steal a piece of you for myself. You reminded me of what it was like to not feel so damn lonely all the time, and I didn’t want to lose that.”
How in the world can I respond to that? I don’t have a
chance because Rowan keeps talking.
“I took your kindness for granted, and I abused your trust. So for that, I’m sorry.”
I blink away my tears. “What made you want to confess?”
“I couldn’t keep pretending after our day at Dreamland. I became addicted to the way you made me feel, to the point that I couldn’t find a way to tell you who I really was. I was afraid and I didn’t want it to end. So, instead of giving myself up, I found ways to spend time with you as Rowan while purposefully stealing the rest of your attention as Scott. It was a stupid idea. It was unfair of me, but I don’t regret a single thing except hurting you.”
Wetness emerges, making my tear ducts full. I’ve never heard Rowan talk this much, and I realize it’s such a shame. The way he speaks…it’s beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful. Not the superficial kind either, but in a way that makes me proud of who I am. In a way that makes me think he cares about my soul first and foremost.
He might have lied, but his intentions behind continuing the fantasy are so damn sad that I want to cry for him. What kind of person is so lonely, they would willingly text someone with a pseudonym?
The one desperate to be loved back.
My throat tightens. “What about the buddies program?” He groans. “God. I’m going to sound crazy.”
The corners of my lips tug up. “Maybe I like your kind of crazy.”
And I truly mean it. Anything is better than the icy exterior Rowan portrays to the world.
“I’m the one who stole all the papers except for one because I didn’t want anyone to have your number.”
My jaw drops open. “You what?” Holy shit. How far does all this go?
He removes his glasses and drags a hand down his face. “When you caught me, I was angry at myself for feeling so stupid, and I took it out on you. But then once I showed up at the meeting, I realized what you were trying to do for people like your sister. I attended the first one for purely selfish reasons, but I stayed because I like Ani. She makes me laugh and she’s sweet, just like you.”
My lashes become damp from the unshed tears. No normal man would steal all the papers with my number unless he cared. And the way he talks about Ani… It’s so simple, yet it means the world to me. It’s everything I wanted with Lance but was denied.
My pounding heart feels like it might escape through my throat.
Rowan likes me.
And he hates it.
My small smile becomes a grin.
“Why are you smiling? Did you not hear a thing I said?” “You like me,” I blurt out.
“No. I tolerate you more than most people. That’s why I want to date you.”
The laugh that explodes out of me has Rowan rearing back.
“You find this funny?” “A little. But it’s cute.” He sighs.
It clicks for me. “You don’t like the idea of liking me.”
“I can’t promise you that I won’t mess up again. I’m learning as I go, but there’s something about you that makes me happy in a way I haven’t felt before. So, if you want to quit, I understand, but go knowing that I never
wanted to harm you or make you feel like a fool.” He stares at me, making me feel exposed in a whole new kind of way.
He cares about you. Really, truly cares.
“I think part of me wants to dislike you for being mistrusting, but part of me can’t help but relate.”
He doesn’t move or breathe. “What do you mean? You’re the most trusting person of all.”
I release a sad laugh. After all he has confessed, it’s only fair to share my story. “My boyfriend at the time broke my heart and my trust the day I found him with another woman. She—God. It’s something I can never unsee.” I’ve tried to wipe the memory of them from my brain, but some parts still leak through. “And because one blow to my life wasn’t enough, Lance—my ex—demolished a part of my heart I’ll never get back.”
“What did he do?” His voice is low, carrying the same kind of lethality as his gaze.
I look away, unable to hold his stare. “He stole my Nebula Land submission, impressed the Creators, and used the bonus to buy his lover an engagement ring.” The words leave my mouth in a rush, sounding clunky and unrehearsed.
He leans over the table, gently cups my chin, turns my head to face him. “While I’m sorry he hurt you, I’m not sorry he let you go.”
I shoot him a wobbly smile. “Are you always so selfish?” His eyes glint. “With you, yes.”
I shake my head.
He tucks my hair behind my ear before tracing my earrings with his finger. I shiver, and goosebumps explode across my skin.
“I might be many things but I’m no cheater. And while I lied to you about everything before, I won’t do it anymore. That I can assure you.”
I swallow, fighting the tightness in my throat. “So that’s it? I’m supposed to take your word for it and hope for the
best?”
“No, I know firsthand how words mean nothing.” “Then what?”
He leans in and presses a featherlight kiss against my lips. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“How so?”
His eyes brighten in a way I’ve never seen before. “Would you rather me show or tell you?” His husky tone makes my skin break out in a wave of fresh goosebumps.
And the smile on his face? Absolutely, positively devious. But the way he crawls over to me on his knees?
I’d agree to anything from that one action alone.
