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Chapter Forty-Nine

RUTH

I know the moment Rowan wakes from the crease that forms between his brows. His skin is soft under my fingertips and I trace the line of his nose, the soft bow of his lips, the slight scruff of his stubble. I wait for him to open his eyes, to greet me with those dark blue irises that make my whole day, but his eyelids just scrunch deeper.

I giggle, loving this grouchy, sleepy Rowan, but a low groan escapes from somewhere in the back of his throat. That’s not sleepy, that’s pain.

“Rowan?” I whisper.

I get a grunt back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles into his pillow.

I roll my eyes.

“Sure.” I prop myself up on an elbow to lean over him. “I can tell from all the scowling and groaning that you’re a-okay.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“I know.” I smile, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong anyway.”

“Just a twinge.”

I sit up, looking down at the curve of his spine. “Your back?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, finally giving in. “It’s a little tight after the game.”

“Do you need to go see a trainer?” Small injuries like this are common for someone playing at his level, but he needs to get it looked after if he wants to avoid it getting worse.

“No,” he huffs. “Just give me a minute.”

He goes to roll over, but when I see the way his face contorts, I grab his shoulder and gently push him back down.

“I’m fine.” His voice is muffled by the pillow.

“Do you have any heat rub?”

“Ruth, I’m fine.”

I sigh. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Rowan accepts help without turning it into a whole thing.

I pull out the big guns. “If you don’t tell me, then I’m gonna go ask Trevor.”

He growls into the pillow before reaching into his nightstand and grabbing a small red tube. I have to duck to avoid it as he tosses it toward me without looking.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Left side, near the base,” he grumbles, finally relenting.

I run my fingers carefully down his spine, feeling every ridge and dip of muscle until he makes a grunt of affirmation. Probing a little harder, I can feel the tightness that’s bothering him.

Popping the cap off the heat rub, I squeeze a little out, warming it between my palms before starting to apply it. Once I’ve got a good layer on, I gently massage it in, trying to work it into the area that’s hurting him the most.

“You don’t need to do this.”

I reach up to tug at a lock of his hair. “Then go see the trainers.”

A grunt of displeasure is all the response I get.

I continue my ministrations, hoping the knot will start to ease. I don’t claim to be any kind of expert, but I’ve been around enough athletes and had enough injuries of my own that I know a little of what I’m doing.

“I’ve got one of those deep tissue guns in the drawer.” His words are quiet. “Can you give it a once over with that?”

Holy shit, is he finally asking for something? I don’t reply, not wanting to scare him off. I just scramble over him, pressing a kiss to the back of his head as I go.

It doesn’t take much rooting around to find it tucked in the bottom of his nightstand drawer. It’s hidden by old packs of protein powder and a sealed box of condoms and for a second, I feel awkward about looking through his belongings, but there’s never been a time in our relationship where it’s occurred to me that he’d have something to hide.

I get back to work, and when Rowan groans in pure relief, I can’t stop the grin that bursts out.

“Better?”

“You got magic hands, Frog.”

Once I’ve finished up, I put the gun aside and lie down next to him. I should get up and try and start getting ready for the day. But when Rowan rolls toward me, pressing the side of his face against mine, I know I’m sunk.

He slides one arm under my head and the other bands across my waist so I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.

“We should get up,” I whisper, giving his bicep a light scratch.

“No,” he grumbles and I can feel the frown against my cheek.

“We’ve got stuff to do.”

“In a bit,” he sighs, burrowing deeper. “I wanna hold you a bit longer.”

Well, shit.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I take a deep breath of his cedar and spice scent. I’m hit by a rush of something so potent that it almost overwhelms me, something that feels a lot like belonging. It’s a feeling so unfamiliar I almost don’t recognize it, the sensation of being warm, safe, settled. I don’t have a hundred racing thoughts. I’m not second-guessing whether to fill the silence or if he even wants me here. I just feel quiet.

I turn my face into his neck and hold on tighter like he could be the lifebuoy that stops me from washing out to sea.

“You okay?” he asks, running a hand up to cup the back of my neck.

“Mm hm.” I can’t answer around the lump in my throat.

He doesn’t push, just kisses my head and reaches down to grab the comforter. Encased in his arms, his steady breath under my ear, I have to fight not to fall back to sleep.

“How’s your back?” I murmur.

“All fixed up.”

“You know.” I decide to try my luck. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? You do so much for me, but when I try and give something back, it’s like pulling teeth.”

“I like doing things for you.”

“That’s not the point,” I huff, turning in his arms to face him, our noses almost touching. “Sometimes it’s like maybe you think I won’t want you if you aren’t helping me with stuff, or giving me things, or fixing my problems. I just want you to know that’s not true. I’m crazy about you, Ro. I don’t need you to work for it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I let him be, let him work through whatever’s going on in that head of his.

Eventually he speaks, pulling in a gulp of air like he’s gearing up for a cage match. “I guess it’s hard sometimes. I like helping people, I really do. But I end up in these spirals where I feel like it’s all I have to offer.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know that rationally, but I get in this place where…” He pauses, like the words are paining him. “It kinda feels like I’m not worth that much to people if I can’t do shit for them.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his words slice through me like a knife.

“Rowan.” I can’t help the way my voice comes out watery.

“Sorry, I’m being dumb.” He tucks my head under his chin.

“No, you’re not, your feelings are never dumb.”

“I don’t always think like this. I just get in my head.”

I push back on his chest a little, not letting him hide from me. “Okay, think of it this way.” He raises an eyebrow. “You say you like doing stuff for me? It makes you feel good?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, why would you assume I don’t feel the same way? When you need help and you don’t ask for it, you’re denying me the opportunity to do something that’s gonna make me feel good.”

He mulls it over. “You’re saying I’d be doing you a favor by asking you for shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh.” He frowns, rolling onto his back. I go with him, propping my chin up on his chest. “Did you just mind-game me out of my anxiety?”

I grin. “Looks like it.”

“You’re a menace, Walcott.”

“You should be glad I’m so into you. Imagine what I could do if I were using my powers for evil.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “you’d burn the world down.”

“Probably.”

“For the record, I’m glad every day that you’re into me.”

I know I’m smiling like a fool, but I don’t care one bit. “You are?”

“Hell yeah. And for what it’s worth, you make it easier to ask for things that just about anybody else.”

The tips of his ears turn pink, his expression sheepish.

“You make me want things, Ruth.”