Page 29 of Burning for the Billionaire 8

She sits beside me with a heavy sigh. “Grace, is this because of Rowan? You want to stay close to him?”

I snort. “No. I’m so over him.”

She gives me ayeah, rightlook and my shoulders drop.

“Okay, I’m not. I don’t think I ever will be.”

She opens her mouth to comment, but I hold up a finger.

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m young and I’ll fall in love again.”

“Actually, I was going to say if you came back because of Rowan, it’s okay. It’s hard to walk away from something special without looking back. Who knows, maybe you two will reconnect.”

“But two weeks ago, you said to forget about him.”

Ashley rolls her eyes. “I know what I said. But I was pissed that night. You showed up here in tears, so I wanted to punch him in his freaking gorgeous face.”

I grunt. “I wanted to punch him in his gorgeous face, too. But he isn’t why I’m not interested in going to New York. I was thinking about spending most of the summer in Colorado with my family. We’re just reconnecting, and I don’t want to put further distance between us. Plus, I spent five years building a life here. I like California and all the friends I’ve made.”

Ashley beams. “Well, in that case, welcome home—and stay your ass right here, then.”

***

Hours after my chatwith Ashely, I lay in bed, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. I consider her words.Maybe you two will reconnect. My heart tells me that’s what I want more than anything, but my logical side tells me I deserve someone who doesn’t push me away whenever he feels like it.

This has been Rowan’s pattern since the beginning, and I can’t do it anymore. If I go running back to him, it won’t be long before he finds a reason to end things between us again. And maybe I’m better off without him. I’ve been struggling just as much as he has since his secret billionaire status was made public.

However, even as I try to convince myself that I should move on from Rowan, my nagging heart won’t stop reminding me how much I still love him. Sitting up in bed—because trying to sleep is pointless—I glance at my phone on the nightstand.

A tempting thought creeps in. What if I call him? Just to hear directly from him how he’s doing? But I quickly shake my head, irritated with myself.

“Get a hold of yourself,” I hiss. He hurt me, more than he ever has in the past.

No way am I calling him.

***

Istep outside andslowly make my way down the steps. Other students pass, some giving me second and third looks. While the media frenzy surrounding the whole Lockwood heir revelation has died down, I’m unfortunately still a subject of interest.

Remembering Rowan makes me want to burst into tears—I really wish I could get past him kicking me to the curb. It’s been a month. He called me once, but thankfully, I missed it.

I talk with Mel often, so I know Rowan is recovering well. He doesn’t need the back brace anymore and is back on his feet, but he still has to take it easy.

Mel keeps dropping hints—or more like glaring signals—that I should call him. I won’t.

I’m heading down the sidewalk away from campus and toward the bus stop when I hear someone call my name. The person is too far away for me to make out the voice, so I stop and look back. There’s someone in a wheelchair coming in my direction, and he’s going at full speed.

My jaw drops when I realize it’s Rowan.

He comes at me so fast, I’m afraid he might hurt himself. Concern for his well-being trumps my anger and hurt and I take off toward him.

He doesn’t stop, although he sees me moving to him. When he’s close enough to hear me, I launch into a lecture.

“Rowan, what the hell are you doing? You could have hurt yourself.”

“I think I did.” He winces. “Son of a bitch. That took a lot out of me.”

I grimace, too, as if I can feel his discomfort. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

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