Chasing the storm

Chapter 37

(Rowan's POV )

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She Thinks She Doesn't Care?

Bullshit.

I felt her pulse racing when I touched her.

Saw the way she held her breath.

Heard the way her voice shook when she said—

"I don't."

Like hell she doesn't.

But she wants to believe that.

Wants me to believe that.

And maybe I should let her.

Maybe I should let her hate me, push me away, pretend like none of this means anything.

But I can't.

Because the problem isn't that she cares.

The problem is that I do too.

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I Shouldn't Have Touched Her

I should've let someone else handle her leg.

I should've walked out of the damn room before this got worse.

But no.

Like an idiot, I stayed.

Watched her shift, uncomfortable but too damn stubborn to ask for help.

Saw her flinch when she tried to move her leg, even though she thought I wouldn't notice.

And then I did the stupidest thing I could've done.

I touched her.

I didn't even think about it.

Didn't stop myself before my hands were on her skin, before I was feeling the warmth of her against my fingertips.

And now?

Now I couldn't stop thinking about it.

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It was a mistake.

Letting myself get this close.

Letting myself touch her.

Letting myself care.

She didn't even know how much control it took for me to pull away after I finished bandaging her leg.

How badly I wanted to stay there, run my fingers along her skin, and push her until she admitted what we both knew.

That she felt it too.

That this tension wasn't one-sided.

That if I leaned in just a little closer—

If I let my hands trail higher—

She wouldn't push me away.

But instead, I moved back.

Because if I didn't, I'd do something I couldn't take back.

Something that would make it impossible to pretend that I don't want her.

And if she looked at me the way she did before—

Like she hated me.

Like I was just another mistake she refused to make.

It might actually fucking break me

I leaned against the counter, watching her struggle to adjust her position without wincing.

I could help her.

I should.

But if I touched her again, I wouldn't stop there.

So I clenched my fists and forced myself to speak instead.

"You're not good at lying, Sunshine."

She stiffened.

Good.

Let her know I wasn't buying her bullshit.

She turned her head slowly, her jaw tight. "Excuse me?"

I smirked. "You heard me."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I don't have time for your games, Rowan."

I raised a brow. "Who said I'm playing?"

Her glare could've set me on fire.

And I would've let it.

"Are you done?" she snapped.

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Hmm. No."

"Unbelievable."

"That's one word for it."

She muttered something under her breath that I didn't catch.

But I caught the way her hands fisted the blanket over her lap.

Caught the way her lips pressed together like she was holding something back.

And for a second, I thought she was going to let it go.

Thought she'd ignore me, like she usually did when she was desperately trying not to react.

But then she looked me right in the eyes and said—

"You don't get to act like you care about what I feel."

It shouldn't have hit me like that.

Shouldn't have made my chest tighten.

Shouldn't have made me want to prove her wrong.

But it did.

And that's when I knew—

This wasn't just tension.

This was dangerous.

Because I wanted her to push me.

I wanted her to lose control.

I wanted her to care enough to fight me on this.

So I gave her exactly what she didn't want.

A reaction.

"You think I don't care?" I asked, voice lower now.

Her breath hitched.

Good.

I stepped closer. "You think I don't notice the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention?"

Her grip on the blanket tightened.

"You think I don't see the way you tense up when I get too close?"

She wasn't breathing right now.

Neither was I.

I leaned down, close enough that I could see the conflict in her eyes.

Close enough that if I wanted to—

If I really wanted to—

I could close the distance and see if she'd stop me.

But then—

The door creaked open.

And just like that—

The moment was gone.

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Ava stepped in first, her eyes bouncing between the two of us before narrowing slightly.

Oliver followed behind her, his jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets.

A tension of their own hung between them, but I barely noticed.

Because I was too busy staring at Sienna.

Watching her try to compose herself.

Watching her force herself to breathe.

Watching her avoid looking at me at all costs.

And I should've been relieved.

I should've been grateful that the moment was cut short.

But all I could think was—

"What if they hadn't walked in?"

Because if they hadn't—

I think I would've kissed her.

And I'm not sure either of us would've survived it.

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