I barreled into the door with enough force to take it clean off the hinges. I wasn’t wasting time convincing Rowan to let me in. Not after hearing such soul-crushing agony in her cry.
I wasn’t affected by much—I’d seen some pretty fucked up shit in my thirty-two years—but the sight of Rowan rocking herself in a sea of broken glass and blood flayed me wide open.
The girl I’d come to know was a pillar of strength. I’d started to wonder if she was fueled by an endless supply of courage and resolve, but seeing her now curled in on herself and sobbing uncontrollably, I knew I’d finally been shown a glimpse of the real Rowan. I hated that being married to me had been the trigger but not enough to begrudge her my help. At that moment, I would have carved out my own heart and handed it over if it would give her comfort.
“Ro, baby. I’m coming. I’ve got you.” I hurried to her side, ignoring the shards of mirror under my bare feet. I slid one arm under her knees and the other wrapped around her back to lift her, cradled like a child.
She reached her arms around my neck and clung to me as though I were God himself come to take her home. That sort of open vulnerability was a balm that healed all wounds. Any lingering hurt I’d felt at her outburst flickered and died beneath her suffocating hold.
Whatever had upset her wasn’t truly about me or what I’d done. This was something deeper—a jagged emotional wound that had reshaped her from the inside out. All I’d done was bring it out into the light.
I set her on the vanity but kept my arms banded securely around her. “Let it out, Rowan. You need to get it out,” I said softly.
My encouragement was admittedly hypocritical, considering I rarely displayed emotion outside of my home gym, but she wasn’t me. I found ways to open the pressure valve and relieve the pressure. Something told me Rowan had no outlets. She’d been a ticking time bomb, and something about our marriage had lit that fuse.
I absorbed each of her shuddered sobs, her tears marking me far beyond the salt left on my skin. Eventually, she regained control of her breathing and relaxed into my hold. Long minutes passed in silence before she finally spoke.
“Her name was Ivy.” Rowan’s whispered voice was as fragile as a single snowflake fallen from the sky. “We were identical in every way. She was my other half. Not just my sister, she was me, and I was her. We were two halves of a whole.”
Jesus Christ. How had I missed this?
How had I not known Alexander had had two daughters? I’d looked into his connections and business history and done a cursory look into Rowan, but it had never occurred to me to look for a deceased sibling.
Everything made so much more sense now. Her heart had been shattered years ago, and she’d never healed. If I could have, I would have unmade the world and rebuilt it with her sister alive and well. I knew at that moment that I would give just about anything to take away her pain.
What I still didn’t understand, though, was how any of this related to our marriage. How had marrying me ripped open that wound? I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but she wasn’t ready. I would have to let her explain on her own terms, so I continued to hold her and listen.
“Ivy died when we were six. Our family was devastated. Dad consumed himself with work, Mom spent half her days on sleeping pills, and neither of them could look at me for ages without bursting into tears and rushing away. My face was a constant reminder of what we’d lost. We couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape it.”
No wonder she didn’t like mirrors. That and the dyed hair and heavy makeup—it all made sense now. She was hiding from herself.
Fuck, that was brutal. I couldn’t even fathom what it had been like.
“I’m so goddamn sorry, Rowan.”
“This life I’m living, it’s not my own.” She finally lifted her head, bringing bloodshot eyes to mine. “I’m living for her and for my parents because I’m all they have left. They suffered so much, and I’ve only ever wanted to bring them joy. To give them the things out of life that they wanted for me and for Ivy. You should have seen Dad when I told him Stetson asked me out.” The tiniest hint of a smile teased the corners of her lips. “He was so damn excited. I’ve done everything—everything—for them. And now it all feels like it was for nothing. If my involvement with your family tarnishes my father’s career, I’ll have been yet another source of loss and disappointment. My feelings for you and the reasons behind it all are irrelevant.” She shook her head helplessly.
“That’s not true.” I stopped her. “Remember, I spoke with your dad, and the only thing he was worried about was your safety. Those reasons were very important to him. He understood this was the best way forward.” Relief coursed through me when her gaze returned to mine, and she slowly nodded.
“I’ve made a mess again,” she whispered, eyes drifting over my shoulder. “And I’m bleeding everywhere.” She released a breath that was half laugh and half sob. “I swear I’m not always such a lunatic.”
I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “We all have our moments.” I pulled away enough to take her hand in mine and examine the damage. “You’ve split your knuckles, but I think we can clean you up without a trip to the ER.”
“Good because I’m not a fan,” she grumbled.
“I’ll remember that. Any other tidbits I should know?”
She set her feet into the sink and shook her head, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Fuck if she wasn’t the hottest, most mesmerizing mess I’d ever seen. And now she was mine, whether she wanted to be or not. As for me, I was more convinced than ever that we’d been sent down this path for a reason. Rowan was meant for me, and one way or another, I’d find a way to prove it to her.
