Page 29 of Beautiful Ruins
“Please.” I met his eyes, hoping my desperation was enough to make him change his mind. “I need to know what you remember.”
Rowan only hung his head.
Fine. If he wanted to rot in silence, he could. I’d find the truth without him. Even if it killed me.
Chapter Eight
SADIE
Iwoke up drenched in sweat that night, the kind of drenching when a fever takes over, my thin cotton shirt now see-thru. It was still pitch-black outside. Not even the moon had shown up to greet me.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, attempting to remove the images still lingering behind my eyelids. The same nightmare I’d been having since I’d arrived back home plagued me—Logan’s feet dangling against the floor. Sometimes they twitched, almost as though there was life still left in him. Other times, they were motionless, just as they had been the night I burst into his bedroom and found the world tilted sideways.
But that wasn’t what had me scrambling for breath. An unease had crept over me since I’d found Logan’s note. His words—our made-up song—had replayed over and over in my head, like a bad chorus I kept singing along to, even when I didn’t want to. It was knowing, deep in my gut, that something was terribly wrong. Logan had given me a clue. So had Rowan, even if he hadn’t meant to. And their father . . . he’d been VP back then. Just like Rowan was now.
That wasn’t a coincidence.
Then there was my mother . . . and her notebooks.
My feet hit the floor before I could second-guess myself. I scrambled out of my bedroom, and raced out the back door, not worrying about dressing for the kind of chill that seeped through walls and didn’t leave.
Dad was on another night shift, although I had a sneaking suspicion, he had been avoiding me. Not that I cared. I didn’t. Not really. But would it have killed him to sit down and eat with me? At least so I didn’t feel so fucking alone.
I flicked the switch in the shed, and the light flickered to life, leaving me bathed in a sickly orange glow. The door creaked behind me, the smell of dust curling around my throat. A chill raced over me, my skin breaking out into goosebumps, and I rubbed my upper arms.
The notebook I needed was in one box I’d gone through yesterday. Logan’s letter. Our made-up childish song. It meant something, I just hadn’t realised until now. It was the creek—Hollow Creek. And my mother. They were linked. How? I wasn’t sure, which is why I was standing in the middle of the shed, freezing my arse off.
I dragged the boxes through the dirt-covered concrete and pulled out notebooks. I flipped through page after page until I found the one I was looking for. There they were . . . the words. Hollow Creek Farm. My mum had written it down. Which meant she had been investigating it.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? Logan had wanted me to know. He had to. It was the key to everything. I just didn’t have all the pieces yet.
But I couldn’t do it alone, even if I’d sworn earlier that night I’d die trying. I needed Rowan’s help, needed his knowledge. If whatever had been going on back then hadanything to do with the club, Rowan was the perfect ally to help me uncover it. I needed him on my side.
I tucked Mum’s notebook under my arm and closed the shed up. The cold air bit at my exposed skin, but I barely felt it. I was already burning up inside as I raced bare foot over the dry grass to Rowan’s house.
Logan had always kept a key hidden for me in a crack under the window by the door. And it was still there. Had Rowan known? I didn’t care.
Without so much as a second thought, I unlocked the front door and placed the key back where it belonged. My hand shook as I eased the door open, the hinges creaking. I winced and paused for a few seconds, then shut and locked the door behind me.
As quietly as possible, I crept through the living room and up the stairs to Rowan’s bedroom. I didn’t want to be sneaking into his house at this hour, but what choice did I have? I was desperate for answers, even if it meant crossing lines I never thought I’d cross.
Rowan’s door was wide open, and a sliver of moonlight filtered in through the small gap in the curtains, highlighting the peacefulness on his sleeping face. He was always wearing that same concerned frown like it was a permanent fixture.
Now, he looked like the boy I’d known a long time ago. The one I knew was still in there somewhere.
I tiptoed over to the side of his bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. Before I’d even opened my mouth, a hand flew up and wrapped around my throat. In seconds I was pinned beneath him, his eyes wild, his breathing ragged as it fanned across my face. His chest pressed to mine, his grip tightening.
It wasn’t fear that stole my breath—it was heat. Sharp. Immediate. Dangerous.
My words caught in my throat, and I was distinctly aware of every place Rowan’s body was touching mine. The warmth of his nakedness seeped through the thin cotton clinging to my skin. Probably should have changed before breaking into his house. I was still wearing my boy-leg undies and a thin tank top that barely covered the sides of my breasts.
“Sadie?” Rowan frowned but made no attempt to move.
His growing arousal pressed between my legs, and I fought the urge to shift my hips. Part of me hated how much I needed him there, how much I craved his closeness. But damn it, I wasn’t ready to push him away. Not yet.
He was always the one who’d held me together, whether or not I wanted him to, whether or not he realised it. I hated how easily he made me forget the anger, the hurt . . . the betrayal. It was like being back at sixteen, lost in the same feelings I could never quite name.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “Sorry . . .” I hesitated, unsure how to soften the awkwardness that lingered between us. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
