Page 54 of Beautiful Ruins
It was the gentlest he’d been with me since I’d arrived back home, and I couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. I’d been orbiting around his stability since I was a kid.
My breath caught in my throat, and I collapsed against him, my sobs breaking free in full-blown wails. I clutched at his cotton shirt like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Rowan and I were destined to repeat the same dance repeatedly—me losing it, him keeping me together. It had been the same way the night Logan had taken his life, and I’d held onto Rowan with everything I had left.
Maybe I was finally losing my mind. Or maybe I was just letting the pain in for the first time. I wasn’t sure which was worse. It hurt more than I wanted it to, but I guess that’s what happened when you spent years not feeling much of anything—when the pain finally clawed its way to the top, all youcould do was hold on and pray you survived to see the sunrise once again.
Rowan’s heartbeat remained steady, grounding me in the moment. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, whatever happened. I promise.”
My entire body shook, my world shifting beneath my feet. “He never said goodbye, Ro. Logan just left us. He could’ve said something. Could’ve told someone.” I gripped Rowan’s shirt tighter, my fingernails almost tearing right through the thin fabric. “He left me. Left me alone and I can’t ever forgive him.”
My head fell against his chest, and I cried loud and ugly. I needed it—needed him. He smelled of cologne with the hint of motor oil. I never realised how much I’d missed it until then. It was like coming home after an extended holiday.
He had no idea how much this was breaking me, pushing me past everything I’d already crumbled beneath. Or maybe he did. Maybe he knew more than I did, and that’s why he was holding me as close as he was.
Rowan cupped the back of my neck, pressing his cheek to the top of my head. “This isn’t your fault, Sades. None of it is your fault. I was his brother. If anyone should have seen the signs, it should have been me. But . . . I need to show you something.”
Sniffing, I tilted my head, blinking back the blur of tears the same way I’d tried to blink back the blur of our past. “What is it?”
“You’re not going to like it, but you deserve to know the truth.” He peeled himself out from beneath my body, hesitating for a moment before he disappeared up the staircase.
I swiped at my face, my eyes already burning from everything I’d just let out. What was worse was the waiting. If my mother had been investigating the mayor—and the club—then the story I’d told myself about her death was unravelling fast.
And whatever Rowan had to show me was likely going to unravel it even further.
He reappeared a minute later, and dropped back onto the floor beside me, his thigh brushing up against mine. The dim light in the corner flickered, almost as though it knew what I was about to discover deserved a moment of impending doom.
Without a word, Rowan handed me an old phone, the screen cracked in the top right corner.
My eyebrows shot up and my focus darted to Rowan. “Logan’s phone?” The question slipped out, but I already knew the answer.
I remembered when he’d broken it doing wheelies in the street. It had fallen from his pocket. He’d been pissed because he’d only bought it the previous week. I hadn’t failed to mention it was his own fault, which led to him chasing me down the street spraying me with a can of coke.
My hands shook as I tapped the screen and swiped it open. Rowan’s silence was suffocating. Each breath dragged, uneven, like he was barely holding it together. Whatever was on the phone was threatening to tear him apart. Even the room felt colder now, the weight of what was coming sucking the heat from the air.
“The messages,” Rowan murmured, the words barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears. I nodded absently and opened the message app. “Top one.” Rowan didn’t even bother looking.
He knew exactly what I was going to find. A message thread between Logan and his dad opened, and I scanned each one until I reached the final few.
I shook my head. “No . . . he—” I cut myself off, my hand flyingto my mouth.
Rowan’s eyes met mine, the desperation matching mine—an open wound that refused to heal. Something had cracked, and he was mourning his brother all over again.
“Logan had somehow gotten caught up in club business.” His voice trembled, and I tried to force down the panic that was clawing its way out of my chest. “He went to Dad, Sades, and the bastard did nothing. Then he tried to warn me, and I thought he was being dramatic. I should have fucking listened.” He scrubbed his hands over his face like he could rub away the grief.
Words formed on my tongue, but none of them made sense in that moment. I scrolled through the messages again.
The first one, dated two days after my mother’s death.
Logan: Dad, I fucked up. I need your help. Just talk to Iron, tell him I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Dad: It’s okay bud, I’ll sort it. Everything’s going to be alright. Just keep your brother out of it for now.
Again, a month later.
Logan: Dad, seriously. I think Rowan suspects something. Are we all good?
Dad: Just keep your head down. Tell Rowan nothing.
Two days before graduation, before Logan . . .
