Page 40

Chapter Forty

RUTH

L ong after Rowan’s fallen asleep, I’m still tossing and turning. It’s all I can do not to kick him in the shin with the way I’m moving around, but there’s a twisting sensation in my gut that won’t let up. I take some long breaths, hoping to push the anxiety aside, but as the squirming turns into cramping, I realize it might not all be in my head.

A sharp pain has me gasping and I slide out from under the covers, leaving Rowan’s sleeping form as I tiptoe toward the kitchen. I do my best to keep quiet as I pull a glass out of the cabinet, wincing as it clinks against the other glassware.

“ Shh ,” I hiss at the tap as I pour some water.

“Who are you shushing?”

I groan as Rowan’s sleepy drawl carries into the kitchen, followed by rustling and his thudding footsteps across the carpet. He appears in the doorway all rumpled, eyes half shut, shirt ridden up to reveal the hard slabs of his stomach. He runs a hand through his mussed hair, and I have to suppress a sigh before another cramp cuts off my thoughts. I manage not to cringe as the pain moves through my abdomen.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I was shushing the tap. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Did it listen?”

“Only when I turned it off,” I admit with a wry smile.

He moves closer, snagging me around the waist and pulling me into his warm chest. My hands come up to fist the back of his shirt as I breathe him in. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Why are you up?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I’m fine, just couldn’t sleep.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” I look up at him, my indignation cut off by another pang.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns, pulling away and holding my shoulders as he pierces me with that assessing gaze.

My shoulders slump. “I think it’s something I ate.”

“What did you eat?”

“I don’t know, dinner with you guys?” I try to cast my mind back, but I haven’t had anything I shouldn’t have in the last few days. His eyebrows draw together as he takes me in, concern filling his irises.

Rowan pulls away, nodding as if he’s decided something. “Stay here.” He gently pushes me onto one of the bar stools by the island.

“Where are you-Rowan!” I hop back up and follow him, trying to stop him as he approaches Trevor’s door. I grab his arm, but it’s not enough to silence the four loud knocks as his fist comes down.

“What the fuck!” I hear Trevor’s startled shout.

“Trev, I need to talk to you, man.”

There’s a long pause. “Can it wait?” Trevor’s voice is muffled, as if he’s speaking from under the comforter.

“Nope.”

“Rowan, what are you doing?” I whisper-yell. He ignores me as he cracks open the door to Trevor’s room.

“You decent?”

“What’s going on?” Trevor whines. I peer into the room and see the sliver of light illuminating his sprawled form, the comforter bunched up over his head, his feet exposed. “I’m asleep.”

“Not anymore, Ruth’s sick.”

“Okay?” he says as he slowly drags the covers away from his face, shooting me a confused frown.

“You need to tell me what you put in the lasagna,” says Rowan

“Rowan, seriously, he can tell us in the morning. Just let him sleep.”

“Yeah,” Trevor chimes in with a mumble. “Let me sleep.”

Rowan ignores the both of us. “She’s having a reaction to something from dinner.”

Trevor sits up as I try again to pull Rowan away from the door. “Ro, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.”

“Are you okay?” Trevor frowns at me, looking a little more alert.

“Yes-”

“No.”

Rowan and I reply at the same time. Trevor’s eyes dart between us, his mouth open in confusion.

“Rowan, let’s just go back to bed. This isn’t helping anything.” I try again to pull his big frame out of Trevor’s doorway.

“If we know what it was, then we can fix it.” Rowan frowns.

“What are you talking about?” My forehead falls against his shoulder in exasperation. “I wasn’t bitten by a rattlesnake. We can’t extract the venom from a wheat grain and create an antidote.” I can hear Trevor snickering from where he’s sat on the edge of his bed.

“Well, what do we do about it?”

“Nothing, I’ll just feel shitty for a while. It’s no big deal.” I shrug, even as another bout of pain makes me grimace.

Rowan turns toward me, running a big hand up my arm until he’s cupping the side of my neck. “It’s a very big deal. If you’re not feeling good, then I’m gonna do something about it.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

His jaw clenches, and a low grumble makes its way from his chest as he drops his forehead to mine. “I can’t have you hurting.”

“Do I need to be here for this?” Trevor asks.

“No, go check the dinner ingredients,” Rowan commands without looking up, his eyes still boring into mine. “Figure out what you poisoned my girl with.”

“I used wheat-free pasta! That’s why it was so weird!” Trevor shouts indignantly.

“He didn’t poison me,” I whisper as he shuffles past.

“He fed you, and now you’re sick,” Rowan grumbles. “He’s on my shit list.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose.”

“He’s not allowed to cook anymore.”

“Don’t argue with him on that, Ruth,” Trevor calls from where his head’s now in the fridge. “I’m happy to be a kept man.”

“You can feed yourself, but I’ll take care of Ruth from now on.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” I sigh.

Rowan ignores me, opting to steer me toward his bedroom. “Get back in bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You’re not gonna kick him in the kneecaps, are you?” I joke weakly.

“Go, please.” His big hand presses against my lower back and I’m urged through the doorway. When I’m back in the room that smells like books and leather and him, he shuts the door behind me.

I listen as his footsteps move away. His gruff voice creeps under the door, and though I can’t make out the words, I can hear that he’s pissed. Trevor gets cut off by the sound of the kettle, but he’s clearly defensive. My head falls into my hands as I try to hear what they’re saying.

I hate this. I feel like I’ve made a mess of things already. I’ve only just started spending time with Trevor, and I’m already causing problems between him and Rowan. I think about how much I wanted this to go well, how much I want Rowan’s friends to like me, to feel like I fit into his life.

I hear the rasp of the door against the carpet. Rowan enters, holding a hot water bottle and a pitcher of water with a glass.

“Isn’t that Trevor’s?” I ask, nodding toward the pitcher. It’s one of those fancy ones with a built-in filter, and apparently, he doesn’t let anyone else use it.

“I’m commandeering it,” Rowan replies. “He keeps it in the fridge, so it’s really cold; that’s what I like when I’m sick.”

While he speaks, he pours out a glass and hands it to me. As I take a sip, I smile, enjoying the feeling of the cold liquid on my tongue.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“Not too bad, just some stomach cramps.”

“You don’t need to go to the doctor?” He strokes my hair as he speaks, gently running a loose strand through his fingers.

“I don’t think so, only if I start getting hives.”

“I’m sorry.” His whisper sounds pained, and I look up at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he stares down at me with that assessing gaze.

“Why are you sorry?” I whisper back.

“I hate that you’re not feeling good.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll probably pass in a few hours; it’s not a big deal.”

“Trevor feels really bad. He’s gonna try and make it up to you.”

“Was that before or after you put him in a headlock?” I ask with a smirk.

“I didn’t put him in a headlock.” Rowan gives the strand he’s holding a soft tug. “We just had words.”

“I know,” I say, running a hand up and down his forearm . “But you didn’t have to be so hard on him. You definitely didn’t need to wake him up at three am to tell him I have a stomachache.”

“Yes, I did. It could have been way worse.”

“But it wasn’t.” I pull him down to sit next to me, leaning my head against his shoulder and taking his hands in mine. “Rowan, I love that you care so much about how I’m feeling. It’s not something I’m really used to.”

“Fuckin’ hate that,” he grumbles.

I carry on. “But you have to trust me when I tell you I’m okay. You can’t fly off the handle every time I have a stomachache. I promise if I’m really not alright, you’ll know about it, but otherwise, you’ve just got let me deal with stuff, okay?”

Rowan grunts out something that sounds vaguely like agreement.

“Rowan, I’m serious.”

“Fine,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But next time he puts flour in the cheese sauce, I’m gonna shrink one of his sweaters in the washer.”

“You wouldn’t.” I mock gasp.

“I would,” he speaks into my hair. “All that bitching about wheat-free pasta, and he puts it in the fuckin’ sauce.”

“He’s an idiot,” I mumble through a yawn.

“No arguments from me.” Rowan shuffles back and lies down, tugging me with him until my back is flush against his chest. He reaches over me to grab the heating pad and places it against my stomach, keeping his arm wrapped around me to hold it in place. I pull the comforter up and burrow back further into him, accidentally grinding my ass against his crotch in the process. Rowan lets out a small hiss. “Behave, woman,” he grunts, tightening his arm to keep me still.

“Sorry.” I giggle back.

I relax my muscles, feeling the warmth from the heating pad seep into me and start to ease the cramps as I eventually drift off in Rowan’s arms.