Page 47 of We're Not Strangers Anymore

He doesn’t answer, just stares at me with that same cold, unreadable expression. It’s infuriating the way he made me tell him how I feel and then says nothing about it.

“You wanted me to admit it,” I say, my voice breaking. “You pushed and pushed until I finally said it and now that I have, you’re just going to ignore it? Pretend it doesn’t matter?”

Grayson’s eyes narrow on me. “Fuckin’ hurts, doesn’t it?”

He moves towards the door, leaving me cuffed to the bed. “Goodnight, Rowan.” He says, his voice still cold as ice. He leaves, the door closing behind him with a finality that makes my heart sink. This is how he felt when he told me he loves me, and I left him. He wants me to feel his pain.I hurt him.

Grayson

I lay on the bed in the guest bedroom across the hall from Rowan, staring at the ceiling. It’s like her and I have this wall between us that only communication can fix, but neither of us are good with our words. The only way I can tell her how I feel, is by making her feel it. I hate this cycle, constantly feeling the guilt of what I put her through, or what her father put her through. I need to give my mind a rest for the night and sober up. I’ll see things clearer tomorrow.

The morning light wakes me and the weight of things between Rowan and I quickly weighs on my chest, making it hard to get out of bed. I process the fact that she’s called my name probably five times by now. Springing up from the mattress I walk lazily to my bedroom and open the door,seeing Rowan right where I left her. “What?” I ask her flatly, leaning against the door frame.

“I really have to pee. Would you be a gem and fucking uncuff me?” She snaps.

“No,” I stride over to her, unfastening the cuff that’s attached to the bed and cuffing it to my own wrist. “Let’s go.”

I guide her to the bathroom attached to the bedroom, nudging the door open with my foot.

Rowan shoots me a glare, her jaw tight. “You’re really not going to give me any privacy?”

“Afraid not.” I reply, gesturing for her to step inside the bathroom.

She mutters something under her breath, probably a string of insults that I don’t care to hear. She hesitates for a moment before slipping her sweatpants down and sitting on the toilet.

“Will you fucking turn around?” She snaps. I bite back a smile and turn to the wall.

It’s silent for a good thirty seconds. “Are you going to piss or not?”

“Stop talking, I have a shy bladder.” She clips. I hold back a laugh as I stay facing the wall.

I hear the sound of water running followed by the flush of the toilet. Rowan clears her throat, signaling she’s done. I guide her over to the sink and she washes her hands.

“Happy now?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Ecstatic,” she replies dryly, holding up her cuffed wrist. “You want to uncuff me so I can go get breakfast?”

I smirk, releasing the cuff from my wrist and fastening it back to the metal railing of the bed. “Not a chance. You’re staying put.”

I walk toward the bedroom door and she glares at me. “Where are you going?”

I pause at the door. “Running out to get us breakfast and coffee. I’ll be back in twenty.”

The cool morning air wakes me up as I step outside and settle into the car. As I drive down the empty road, my thoughts are flooded with images of Rowan. I keep trying to shove them out but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about her, and how fucked up I am. I just can’t let her go. I thought I would let her go once I killed Conejo, but I can’t. I need her, even if it means keeping her locked up until shewantsto stay with me. It’s twisted, I know.

I drive into the parking lot of the small café and park, stepping out of the car. The bell above the door jingles as I enter, and I make my way to the counter. The familiar smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries fills the air, and I place an order for two coffees and a couple of croissants. As I wait, my mind drifts back to Rowan again. Is it wrong that I find her resistance attractive? Maybe it’s the fact that she isn’tdesperate for my attention like I’m used to with women. She’s good with or without me and as much as I hate it, I love that she sees her own value. She’s gone through more than she ever should have had to, yet nothing has shaken her. Rowan stirs something inside of me that I’ve never felt and I can’t just let that go. I may not be good with my words but I need to at least try.

The barista hands me the paper bag and I head back, lost in thought, trying to come up with the words I want to say to Row. I should be more focused on the meeting I have with a new tech expert, but all I can think about is how to fix things with her. The miles roll by, and I get more nervous about talking to Rowan. The last time I spilled my guts to her she ran from me. My car rolls to a stop in the driveway, and I prepare myself to apologize to Rowan and tell her what I want, what Ifeel.As I approach the house, something feels off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like a primal warning. I quicken my pace and as I enter the house, I hear muffled voices coming from the upstairs and–FuckRowans screaming. I rush up the stairs and through the crack of the door, I see three men standing around her, one pistol whipping her bloodied face.

“I don’t know where the fuck he is! I haven’t seen Grayson in weeks!” She screams as he continues to beat her. Rage floods through me, cold and dark. I push the door open and charge at the nearest man, catching him off guard. My fist connects with his jaw and he staggers back. The other two turn but I’malready moving. I grab the lamp from the night table and swing it at the second guy, smashing it into his head. He goes down, but I don’t stop. I kick the third man in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and I take the opportunity to grab my gun from the dresser. The first guy who was beating Rowan lunges at me and I bust a cap into his shoulder, then send another bullet into the second one who’s knocked out on the bedroom floor. I turn to aim and shoot at the third guy but before I can shoot, he presses the barrel of his gun into Rowan’s temple.

“Drop the fucking gun or your little princess’s brains are going to paint your bedroom.” He clips.

“Grayson don’t!” Rowan cries. He looks down at her for a moment just long enough for me to take the shot, and I do. He drops down to the floor and his gun clatters against the wood. He goes to crawl to it but I charge over, grabbing his gun and tossing it to Rowan. I tuck my gun into my waistband and drag him to the bathroom. Rowan has seen enough.

“How many more are there?” I ask him.

“Enough to make sure your bitch ends up dead.” He spits.

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