Page 143 of Cruel Lies

"Ro," I tried again, slowly walking in his direction. I wanted to reach out to him, wanted him to know I was there with him, but the way his shoulders tensed when I touched them told me any overture would be unwelcome.

So I stepped away, wincing at the pain that lanced my heart.

The hospital waiting room chairs were cold against my skin as I curled up in one, wrapping my arms around my knees as I struggled to hold myself together.

I fully expected a panic attack to set in at any moment. It was a miracle it hadn’t already happened. I likely wouldn’t be prepared for it when it did rear its ugly head. Life had a funny way of fucking me like that.

Hours later, I woke from a daze, back stiff and legs numb, when the second doctor made their way into the waiting area.

She was covered in far less blood than her male counterpart. Perhaps she’d changed before coming to see us.

Her eyes found me first, a fact which didn’t go unnoticed by Rowan in the corner. When she approached me first, he cleared his throat and motioned for her to head his way instead, driving the wedge between us deeper as he refused to move closer to me. No, if anyone was going to make a move, it appeared he intended for it to be me.

The doctor stared back and forth between us but said nothing, clearly wishing she hadn’t stepped into this minefield. "It was a difficult fight, but he’s stable. Expect a long recovery, and possible re-admission if he doesn’t take care of himself while he heals. Thankfully, the bullet didn’t do too much internal damage. We did have to dig it out of his shoulder, though. He’s going to be in pain for some time."

"Will he regain full range of motion?" I heard Rowan ask quietly.

The doctor’s lips pursed in a moue of disapproval. "It’s too soon to tell. The damage wasn’t to any major muscle groups, so as long as he rehabilitates well, it’s possible. However, it’s also possible he doesn’t."

It wasn’t the worst news she could have given, but it wasn’t helpful. Rowan slammed his fist into the wall next to the doctor’s head, and the poor woman flinched back in fear as he growled inthe back of his throat. It was clear he made her uncomfortable, and in an attempt to smooth things over, I thanked her for her help and grabbed Rowan by the bicep, dragging him somewhat difficultly into the corner again.

I forced him to sit down, and he scowled at me the whole time but said nothing in retaliation as I shoved him into a place where I wanted him.

"Sit the fuck down, Rowan. You’re going to get yourself kicked out of the hospital if you keep acting like this."

"Like what?" he echoed hollowly. "Like I’m worried for my brothers? Like I’m on edge about their chances of survival and recovery? Like I’m not upset? Please, enlighten me, oh great one, so I know what I’m doing wrong here."

I recoiled from his words like he’d shot me this time, and the bullet landed where it was meant to all along. Finally, when I’d just barely managed to get over my crippling fear of being burned, of being hurt, Rowan showed his true colors. When the chips were down and the going got rough, he abandoned me in his rage and emotional distress, refusing to let me in.

And then he locked the door and threw away the key.

"Rowan, I?—"

He grabbed me by the throat and dragged me around the corner, heading straight for an emergency escape to the roof. When we burst through the door, the muggy heat assailed me like a physical wall, and I had to gasp for air as I was slammed into the side of an HVAC unit, my back connecting with the stinging hot metal.

His hand slapped the side of the unit next to my head and effectively froze me in place.

"If you hadn’t gone off half-cocked on a mission of certain death, we wouldn’t be here right now. My brothers wouldn’t be hurt, lying in hospital beds, fighting back death as we speak." His eyes narrowed dangerously, and there it was—the Rowan Blackwoodpeople on the street feared. The man who’d made a name for himself as a dangerous killer.

No trace of the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Nothing left of his smile, his teasing gaze, or the easy way he would wrap an arm around me when I wasn’t paying attention. In his place was a cold, harsh man who steamrolled over me like I was nothing more than an ant beneath his boot.

It felt like the whole world was crashing down around me. And there was nothing I could do this time around to stop the sky from falling.

"I’m gonna say this once, so make sure you don’t forget it."

I couldn’t breathe, even though he’d removed his hand from my throat. "Ro . . . "

"Don’t youdareRo me. If not for you, we wouldn’t be in this shitshow in the first place." He snarled in rage, fury written into every line on his handsome face. "If your mother had never crossed our father’s path, if you’d never come along, maybe?—"

"Nash and Angel wouldn’t have been any safer without me, Rowan Blackwood, and if you don’t want to admit that, it’s on you. But this isn’t my fault, and I refuse to sit here and let you make me feel like it was."

"But itwasall your fault," he insisted, his hand balling into a fist to keep from hitting something—maybe me. "You with your pretty fucking stares and those stupid smiles that had us falling head over heels for you, that flirty wink you shot us when you thought nobody was looking—if you’d never stepped into our lives, maybe we’d never have ended up here."

"Is that what you’re dealing in these days, Rowan? Maybes? What ifs? What happened to the man who thought things through with logic and made plans based on fact and statistics?" I shoved him away from me, though it took a lot more effort, considering he was so damn tall and muscled. "You’re lashing out because you need someone else to be to blame for this, when the truth is, you could have ended this long ago, if you’d have letsomeone else carry some of that weight of the world you keep lashed to your shoulders like some kind of fuckingmartyr."

"You think you can just walk into our lives and make us care and then do whatever you want without repercussions?" He gestured to my face, the grease paint barely dry from all the sweat. "You dress up like the big boys and play big boy games, but you’re still just a stubborn, selfish, spoiled girl who thinks the world owes her something. You don’t get to act like you care now, when you're the whole reason any of this happened."

He swiped at my face, and I flinched away, thinking he planned to hit me. When his hand didn’t connect, I opened my eyes, only to have his palm dragged across my face, ruining the skull paint and smearing it until it was unrecognizable.

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