Chasing the storm

Chapter 36: Too Close, Too Much.

(Sienna's POV)

---

The Tension Between Us Was Different This Time

I should've been relieved.

The storm was still raging outside, but we had shelter.

I wasn't freezing. I wasn't running. I wasn't seconds away from dying.

But instead of relief, all I felt was this heavy, suffocating tension curling in my chest.

Because Rowan was still here.

Still watching me.

Still acting like he knew something I didn't.

---

It started the moment Ava walked off to help Caleb with the supplies.

Oliver, of course, had gone after her.

They didn't even try to keep their voices down.

"You can't just walk away like that," Oliver snapped.

"Watch me," Ava shot back, rifling through the supply bags Caleb had set down.

Oliver exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Ava—"

She turned on him so fast he actually took a step back.

"No, you don't get to do this," she hissed. "You don't get to act like you care one second and then shut down the next. I'm tired of it."

Oliver's jaw clenched. "I care."

Ava scoffed. "Then act like it."

Silence.

Then—

Ava grabbed a med kit and stormed off, leaving Oliver standing there, looking wrecked.

And just like that—

It was only me and Rowan left in the room.

---

I should've gotten up.

Should've gone after Ava.

But my leg was still screaming in pain, and if I even tried to walk now, I knew I'd collapse.

And Rowan?

He knew it too.

His sharp gaze didn't miss anything.

"You're in pain," he muttered.

"No kidding," I said dryly.

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. "You should be resting."

I scoffed. "Like I have a choice?"

His smirk was lazy, slow. Too confident.

"Not really, Sunshine."

I hated that nickname.

Mostly because of the way it made my chest tighten every damn time.

---

I shifted against the couch, trying to find a position that didn't send sharp pain shooting up my leg.

Rowan noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

"You need to stop being stubborn," he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You act like letting people help you is a personal offense," he said, tilting his head slightly. "It's exhausting."

I clenched my jaw. "Oh, I'm exhausting? That's rich coming from you."

His lips twitched. "I never said I wasn't."

He stood up, and before I could stop him, he crouched beside me, his warm hands reaching for my leg.

I froze.

"Rowan—"

"Relax, Sunshine." His voice was low. Steady. Unbothered.

But I wasn't.

Because his fingers brushed against my skin, and I had to bite my lip to stop my breath from hitching.

"This needs to be checked," he muttered.

I swallowed hard. "I just got it bandaged."

"Yeah? And you're bleeding through it."

Damn it.

I hadn't even noticed.

---

I tried to focus on literally anything else.

The storm outside. The voices of the others in the next room. The cold air pressing against the windows.

But Rowan?

He was impossible to ignore.

His touch was careful but firm, undoing the bandage with slow, precise movements.

It was so un-Rowan-like that I almost asked him who the hell he was and what he'd done with the real one.

But then he spoke.

"You shouldn't have run back for me."

I stiffened.

My stomach twisted.

"That's what this is about?" I muttered.

He didn't answer immediately.

Just focused on pressing clean gauze against my leg, his fingers brushing over my skin like it was second nature.

Like he'd done this a million times before.

Like it wasn't dangerous.

"You could've gotten hurt worse," he finally said.

I exhaled sharply. "You could've died."

His gaze snapped up to mine.

And suddenly, it felt like the room was too small.

Like he was too close.

Like breathing was impossible.

___

Something changed in his eyes..

For a long second, neither of us said anything.

The silence stretched, heavy with something unspoken.

Something I wasn't ready for.

His jaw clenched. "You shouldn't care."

My breath hitched.

"What?"

"You shouldn't care," he repeated, his voice low and strained. "Not about me."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

I wanted to slap him.

I wanted to yell.

I wanted to do anything except sit here and feel this.

So instead—

I lied.

"I don't."

His eyes darkened.

Like he knew I was full of shit.

Like he knew the way my pulse was racing under his fingertips.

But instead of calling me out on it—

He just exhaled and went back to fixing my bandage.

---

Rowan didn't speak again.

Neither did I.

But when he finished bandaging my leg, his hands lingered for a second longer than necessary.

Like he didn't want to move.

Like he was considering saying something else.

Then—

He pulled away.

His face was unreadable.

His body tense.

But his eyes?

They said everything I wasn't ready to hear.

And just like that, the moment was over..

___