Page 172 of Deviant

Rowen sitting on my bed, can only lead to one thing, and if she came here to talk, then best I give her a wide berth and let her.

“Yes, to talk,” she confirms, her gaze lowering to the white bandage on my arm. “Does it hurt?”

Looking at you?

Fuck, yes.

My arm?

Not so much.

“I’ll live,” I reply, leaning against a small desk by the window.

“Everything happened so fast, I don’t think I properly thanked you for helping me with my challenge. If you hadn’t been there to guide me through it, I’m not sure I could have done it on my own.”

“You would have managed just fine without me.”

“I don’t think so,” she mutters softly, still staring at my bandages. “I don’t like the idea of hurting you.”

“Why? When you’re so fucking good at it?” I grumble under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I retort, feeling all sorts of frustrated. “Is that it? Is that why you came here? To thank me?”

“No, I also wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” I parrot the word like I’ve never heard anyone say such a thing to me before.

“Yes,” she says, standing up and walking toward me.

Shit.

I stay rooted to my spot, my jaw clenching when she stops just within my arm’s reach.

“I wanted to apologize for how I reacted earlier. After you…”

“You mean after I killed Chris? Yeah, I know what I did, Roe. Spare me the reminder,” I grumble, using her poor choice of topic to my advantage to brush past her, but when Rowen grabs hold of my hand, I stop in my tracks just to relish in her touch.

“You did what had to be done,” she replies behind me. “Would I have liked today to have gone a different way? Of course, I would have. But Chris wasn’t well. He genuinely believed this was just a game and that I wouldn’t get hurt, no matter what he did to me. No one else stood up to protect me. Only you.” She leans her head on my arm as she says the last part. “I guess, along with an apology, I should be thanking you for that, too.”

“You’re welcome,” I say over the loud sound of my beating heart.

She then slides in front of me, keeping her hand on mine, as her other finds purchase on my bare chest.

“I need to know one more thing before I leave,” she whispers, staring deep into my eyes. “After everything I told you the other day… now that you know the truth of what really happened that night… with Nora… with everything… I just need to know… do you hate me?”

There’s an underlying meaning to her question… one that I don’t know if I’m ready to answer.

“Isn’t hate the whole premise of our relationship?” I ask, taking the easy way out.

“Is it?” she counters, slaying me with those two little words.

I gently cup her cheek, and as her eyelids flutter closed, she releases a deep sigh as if she had been holding her breath since she entered my room.

“No,” I admit, deciding to go with the truth this time. “It’s not.”

“So what does that leave us with?” she rasps, still unable to look at me, fearing my response.

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