Page 66 of More Than Promises

Soft, whiskey-soaked breaths glide across my cheeks as he stares down at me. For once, I can see every one of his racing thoughts, and each one starts and ends the same: with us, a tangle of sweaty limbs, mouths clashing, hearts pumping, and… Rowan eventually leaving.

“We should have another drink,” he murmurs dangerously close to my lips.

Something tells me that could be a bad idea, but I’m helplessly captivated by him, hopeless to resist his spell when I utter a buzzy, “Yes, please.”

He moves to the edge of the couch as he prepares our next round, and I draw my knees to my chest, watching his muscled shoulders bunch with each movement and the sharp angle of his stubbled jaw, shadowed by the firelight.

My god… Rowan truly is such a beautiful man.

“I get your whole silence thing,” I say not-so-eloquently as I take the glass I’m offered. I twist it in the dim light, entranced by the sparkling crystal. “As silly as it sounds, I’m afraid of the dark. Can’t hardly sleep without a TV on at night.”

He studies me thoughtfully. “Is that what keeps you up late, too?”

“Yeah,” I start, pausing to trace the rim of the glass with my finger.

Rowan’s eyes soften with the barest glimpse of vulnerability. “Why are you afraid?”

I take a small sip, allowing it to loosen my tense muscles before opening myself to the memories that still haunt me. “There were some kids in school who would torment me every chance they got. One day, they cornered me in the hallway and shoved me inside the janitor’s closet.”

Rowan’s grip on his glass tightens, leaching his knuckles of color. “How long were you stuck?”

I close my eyes briefly as the weight of that memory presses against my chest. “Hours. They jammed a chair under the handle so I couldn’t get out. The cleaning crew didn’t find me until they were done for the evening, and by then, it was well past dinnertime.”

“Wade,” he says, his temper flaring suddenly.

I neither confirm nor deny his assumption. Not because I’m protecting Wade, but because I have a feeling if Rowan knew how much that man has hurt me, it wouldn’t end well for either of them.

On the mantle of the fireplace, a long wooden box with intricately carved designs snags my attention. Eager for a subject change, I point at it. “What’s that?”

Rowan turns toward the box and sighs. “A letter Thomas left for me that I haven’t read yet.”

I sit a little straighter, a little closer. “Why not?”

“Because things are complicated.”

Disappointed by his answer, I take another sip of my drink. Rowan’s past is none of my business, but like a starved thief, I want to capture every crumb he drops. I want to explore the tormented, jaded parts of him that have closed him off from the world.

“My brothers and I have worked our asses off for the success we’ve achieved.” My lips freeze on the rim, and I swallow quietly, afraid if I move even an inch, he’ll stop talking. “If I read that letter… I’m afraid I’ll find something that’ll distract me from what’s most important.”

He downs another glass, then places it on the table. I bite the inside of my cheek when he sits back, close enough that his thigh brushes the tips of my toes, shooting tendrils of heat up my calves.

“Archer had just turned twenty-four, Lucas was fifteen, and Everett was twelve when we lost our parents.” He stares at the fire, watching the dancing flames that reflect across his nose and cheeks. “It’s funny… I give Archer a lot of grief for what a grumpy, miserable fuck he is, but he basically became a parent to us overnight.”

“There wasn’t anyone else to care for y’all?”

“The grandparents we have on our dad’s side live in Florida. To move would’ve meant pulling the younger boys out of school, me out of college, and upending our lives more than they already had been, and Archer wasn’t having that. So he took us in, and together, we focused on surviving.”

A wave of sorrow sobers me, and I offer what comfort I can with a hand on his shoulder.

To my surprise, he leans into my touch, going as far as curling his hand around my foot and stroking his thumb across the top. I do my damndest to keep my breaths even, but the buzz beneath my skin rises to the surface, greeting each swipe.

“Most kids know what they want to do with their lives by the time they head to college, but not me. Archer and Everett are tech engineers like Dad, Lucas prefers having his face plastered on magazines and billboards, but I only ever wanted to be like my mom.

“That woman could do anything she put her mind to. She led by example, raising us with the patience of a fucking saint, and she and Dad loved each other in a way that made me want a family of my own. I never cared about what I ended up doing or where I went, just as long as one day, I had that.”

“You still can,” I force myself to say, even though the thought of Rowan with another woman suddenly makes me nauseous.

He stands before walking to the fireplace, and it startles me how much I miss his warmth, his tender touch. After opening the box, he removes the letter and traces the wax seal thoughtfully. “Once I hand the manor over to Sam, whatever’s in this letter won’t matter… None of this will matter. My brothers will hear what’s required of them, and then we’ll work together to put this all behind us.”

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