Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(44)
“What have you been up to, brother?” Rowan asks as he grabs my wrist. I close my fist and wrench free of his grasp, and he grins. “Getting into some fights, are we?”
“None of your business, Rowan.”
“So that’s a yes.” I scowl at him and rise, heading to the kitchen for no other reason than to get away. Of course, being the annoying older brother he is, Rowan follows. “Got anything to do with the little banshee?”
“Her name is Rose, you fucking asshole,” I hiss as I turn on him. Though I step right into his space, he doesn’t budge. He just smiles at me like this is all a fucking game, one that he’s winning.
“Another yes, then. What happened?”
“Do you remember that time about ten seconds ago when I told you it was none of your business? It’s still none of your fucking business.”
Rowan falls into silence. I turn my back on him to fill a couple water bottles. His voice is softer than I expect when he says, “She was pretty clear there’s nothing going on between you. Didn’t get the impression she was happy about it though. So it begs the question, why not?”
I turn off the water and grip the edge of the sink. “Rowan—”
“And if you say ‘Claire,’ I’m going to punch you in your fucking throat—”
“It’s not Claire.” I wheel around to face him. Rowan’s smirk might be teasing but worry still hides in his eyes. “It’s me.”
His eyes narrow, that smirk of his long gone. “What about you?”
“I’m her doctor, for one thing.”
“Forbidden. I like it. Makes it ten times hotter.”
I groan and swipe a hand down my face. “I’m not … I can’t … I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“Who said anything about a relationship, you feckin’ eejit? You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You’re allowed to have fun.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to use her for fun.”
“Didn’t say you would. But she is a grown-ass adult woman who might also want to have fun. Did you ever think about that?”
I’d like to say, No, I have not, but truth is, I think about it a lot. Probably every waking hour, in fact. How it would be nice to have something easy, something with no strings attached, no responsibility to hold myself to a standard that seems more and more impossible to maintain. It would be nice to be in the moment with someone, without worrying about the future and the kind of person I might not be despite the years I’ve spent molding myself to fit that box.
I open my mouth to try to rationalize my inertia, but the increasingly weak argument evaporates when I hear the guest room door close at the end of the hall and the tap, tap, tap of Rose’s crutches as she enters the living space. Rowan gives me a pitying look and draws me into an embrace before she can join us. I sigh. “Maybe you should give yourself a break,” Rowan whispers in my ear. “You’re a dumbass, but you’re a good man. You deserve to have fun too. And I like the little banshee.”
He claps me on my back and heads toward the living room, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he goes. But then it’s Rose’s magnetic pull that draws my attention away. She stops in front of me with a gentle smile, her eyes soft, three rumpled shirts hanging from the handle of her crutches.
“Let me know if I can help.”
I’m more worried about her passing out when I start the closed reduction procedure, but I nod instead. “Maybe you can help distract her, if she wants.”
“Yeah,” she says as she watches Rowan help Sloane to her feet, his nervous energy peeling from him in waves. “Man-guy there is about as calm as a monkey on a gridiron.”
“Man-guy …?”
“Long story.” With a final, fleeting smile, she leads the way out the door. We take two vehicles, Rowan and Sloane following Rose and me in their rental car.
When we get to the clinic, I inject Sloane’s joint with lidocaine, and after fifteen minutes I start the procedure to manipulate her bone back into place. We take it slow, pausing to wait for her muscles to relax, for the pain to become a little more bearable. Rowan never lets go of her good hand. He reminds her to breathe. Tells her she’s brave, and tough, and so strong. I don’t know how much of it registers as she closes her eyes and grits her teeth against the agony. When the bone finally shifts into correct alignment, she takes a deep, unsteady breath. Rowan rests his head next to hers and I look to Rose, who’s sitting in the corner of the room, her gaze not straying from the couple even though I’m sure she feels me watching.
After a few moments of rest and some pain meds, Rose gets Sloane into a fresh shirt and pair of leggings, and then I fit her with a sling before we leave.
Rose and I don’t talk on the short drive home. We don’t talk much over dinner either when I really think about it. We mostly converse with Sloane and Rowan, and not directly to each other, even when Sloane announces she’s too exhausted to stay up any longer and Rowan briefly leaves to help her get situated in the other guest room they’ll share. There’s a tension that’s settled between us, one I find difficult to pin down. I’d like to think it’s instinct, that too many apex predators in one place has set us on edge. Or that it’s the discomfort of being in the presence of two people who have so obviously just realized they’re falling in love. But it’s not that. And I know it. It’s the tension that comes with wanting so much more than you’re willing to take.