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Rowan doesn’t say I’m being harsh. Doesn’t say but she’s your mom. He just sits there with me, drinking black coffee and letting me be mad at someone I’ve been trying to save since I was eight and hiding her car keys.
“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” I say, voice breaking. And I sure as hell don’t know how to love Whitley while carrying all this.
“Whit hates me,” I whisper, gut twisting. “She should.”
Rowan shifts, finally looking at me. “You pushed her away again?”
“Hard.”
He sighs. “And you think that makes you noble?”
“I think it makes me someone who shouldn’t be trusted with a heart like hers.”
For a beat, all I hear is the hum of cicadas and the sound of his coffee lid snapping back into place.
“You love her?” he asks.
My throat burns. “Yeah.”
“Then fix it.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
He lets out a sharp breath. “Bullshit. You’re not protecting her, Beau. You’re just scared. And I get it. I do. Because you know I’ve been where you are.”
His voice is lower now, rougher. Not angry. Just honest.
“I thought I was doing the right thing, back when we were in high school. Thought if I kept my distance from Violet, she’d be better off. Thought I was the mess and she was the miracle, and the best way to love her was to let her go.”
He pauses. “All it got me was years I can’t get back. Time wasted. You wanna know how that felt?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. But my chest constricts because I already know.
“It felt like fucking shit,” he says flatly. I wince, but he keeps going. Rowan’s never been one for soft landings. “She believed in you. You’re dragging your pain around like it’s a punishment you earned.”
I swallow hard. My chest feels cracked open, like he’s scraped me raw with nothing but truth.
Rowan sighs. His voice softens just enough to slip under my armor. “You deserve better than this version of yourself, man. You deserve someone who sees the good in you. But you gotta start believing it’s there or you’ll lose her.”
I’ve already lost her.
The words sit in my gut like stones. I watched her walk away and told myself it was mercy.
“I said we weren’t that serious,” I tell him. “Right to her face.”
Rowan goes still. “You what?”
“She was asking questions, and Mom kept calling, and I just…” I drag a hand down my face. “I wanted her to hate me.”
“Jesus, Beau.” He shakes his head. “You really said that?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“I know.”
He turns to face me fully. “No, I don’t think you do. Why are you actively choosing to be miserable?”
