Page 67 of Stick Handled

“Shit,” another guy says, half-laughing, but it’s not funny. It’s like they’re all watching a car crash about to happen.

Rowan strides in, his presence swallowing the air. His gaze sweeps the room, slow and deliberate, like a predator scanning prey. For a moment, I think he’s going to start yelling, maybe throw a weight across the room, but he doesn’t.

His eyes lock onto mine, and I brace myself.

To my surprise, Rowan doesn’t say a word. He just starts walking, his silence speaking volumes.

He’s pissed.

“Spinning room,” he mutters as he passes me, low and sharp like a blade.

The venom in his tone sends a chill down my spine.

I glance at Ares, hoping for some kind of signal, but an empty bench press greets me instead. He’s gone. Fucking great.

I sigh, running a hand over my face before following Rowan.

The spinning room is dimly lit, the faint hum of air conditioning the only sound. Rowan’s already there, his hands gripping the handlebars of one of the bikes so tightly his knuckles are white. His shoulders are stiff, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

As soon as I step in and close the door behind me, he turns sharply.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Damien.” His voice is low, dangerous.

“What isn’t true?” I keep my tone calm, careful. I don’t know what he’s seen. I have no idea what he knows, so I have to choose my words carefully.

“Cut the crap.” Rowan’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer. “You took her back on the ice,” he growls. “After everything, you had the fucking audacity to put her back on the ice without telling me.”

Okay, so he knows about the skating. How? I still don’t know. But if that’s all he knows, I’m sure I can sort it out.

“I did it because she misses it,” I say evenly. “You would have never allowed it.”

“Damn fucking right, I would have never allowed it,” he growls.

“It’s not your call to make, Rowan,” I say, keeping my voice even.

His hands twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to grab me.

“Don’t fucking test me,” he warns. His face is inches from mine now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“I’m not testing you. I’m telling you the truth. She wanted to skate, so I took her skating.” I clench my fists, willing myself to stay calm.

Rowan laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He steps back, running a hand through his hair before turning back to me. His eyes are wild, full of betrayal and fury.

“And when did she tell you that?” he snaps. “When you picked her up from the airport or at dinner when you barely exchanged two words?” His eyes narrow, and I feel like I’m being interrogated. “So, tell me, when did Avery have the chance to tell you that? Because I sure as hell wasn’t there to see it.”

“She came to me one night and asked if I could teach her how to skate again,” I explain. “There was nothing more to it, and I was just as stunned to see her as you’d imagine.” All truth.

“And where is she right now, Damien?” He cocks his head to the side.What?“Because she wasn’t in her room, and judging by her bed, no one slept in it.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. Does he know? Does hereallyknow, or is he piecing things together?

“What exactly are you implying?” I ask carefully.

He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. His eyes bore into mine, and I know the question before he even says it.

“Did you fuck my sister, Damien?”

The room goes silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

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