Page 65 of Stolen Harmony

Rowan wasn’t just beautiful.

He wasmine—in some deep, twisted part of me that had always known he didn’t belong to the world, not really.

He belonged to the ache. To the silence between us. To the part of me that still believed love was something you earned by suffering.

And I would suffer.

I already was.

Chapter 15

Breaking Open

Rowan

The stranger's voice drifted from the bedroom doorway, casual and satisfied. “Hey, there's someone in your kitchen.”

I was still sprawled across the sheets, naked and sticky with sweat, my brain sluggish from afternoon sex and the whiskey I'd been nursing since noon. It took a moment for his words to register, another moment to process what they meant.

“What?” I pushed myself up on my elbows, sheets falling away from my chest.

“Older guy. Gray hair. Looks like he owns the place.” He was pulling on his jeans, movements quick and efficient now that the spell was broken. “Should I be worried about a jealous husband or something?”

My blood went cold. There was only one person it could be. “Fuck.”

I rolled out of bed and grabbed the first clothes I could find, pulling on boxer briefs and a t-shirt that smelled like sex and regret. The stranger was already fully dressed, checking hisphone with the detached air of someone whose afternoon entertainment had suddenly gotten complicated.

“I should probably go,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

“Yeah. Probably.”

I walked him through the main room toward the door, hyperaware of my bare feet on the cold floor, of how I must look with my hair a mess and my skin still flushed. Elias was standing at the kitchen counter like he belonged there, coat still on, his face an unreadable mask of calm.

But I caught the way his eyes tracked over me, taking in my disheveled state, the marks I could feel blooming on my neck and shoulders. There was something dark in his expression, something that made my pulse quicken for reasons I didn't want to examine.

“Had a good time,” the stranger said to me, loud enough for Elias to hear. His grin was lazy, satisfied, the look of a man who'd gotten exactly what he'd come for. “Text me sometime.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, already knowing I wouldn't.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with Elias and the weight of whatever had just happened. The apartment felt smaller suddenly, the air thick with tension and the lingering scent of sex.

My body went rigid, blood humming in my ears like white noise. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“The door was unlocked,” Elias said evenly, no apology in his tone. His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it, something that made my skin prickle with awareness.

“That's not an invitation.” The words came out sharper than I'd intended, but I was too rattled to care about diplomacy. “This is my space.”

Elias didn't flinch, didn't step back, didn't show any of the normal human responses to being yelled at by someone half-naked and clearly unhinged. “I was checking in. That's all.”

“Checking in?” I let out a bitter laugh that scraped against my throat. “Or checking up?”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the only sign that my words had hit their target. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” I said finally, crossing my arms over my chest. The movement pulled my t-shirt tight, and I saw Elias's eyes flicker downward before snapping back to my face.

“I was worried about you.” His voice was quieter now, more honest.

“Well, as you can see, I'm fine.” I gestured at myself, at the apartment, at the evidence of my latest attempt to feel something other than hollow. “Perfectly fucking fine.”