Chasing the storm

Chapter 38: Unfinished Conversations

(Sienna's POV )

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They Didn't Even Knock.

The motel room door slammed open, the wind howling behind it, and Ava stormed in first.

Oliver was right behind her, his face set in frustration.

"I swear to God, Ava, would you just listen—"

"I did listen," she snapped, throwing him a glare. "And I'm done listening."

She marched across the room, brushing past Rowan and me without sparing us a glance.

Oliver ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply before following her in.

Ava headed straight for Caleb, who was sitting near the supplies they'd been gathering.

"Got anything useful?" she asked, completely ignoring Oliver.

Caleb glanced between them, clearly aware of the tension. Clearly not wanting to get involved.

"A few things," he said carefully. "Some medical supplies, extra batteries. Food's running low, though."

Ava nodded sharply. "Good. I'd rather be useful than waste my time arguing with—"

"Don't start," Oliver cut in.

Ava's expression darkened, and she turned her back on him.

Damn.

---

Rowan Wasn't Saying a Word.

But I felt him watching everything.

Sitting beside me, arms crossed, completely still—except for his eyes.

Taking everything in.

The way Ava wouldn't even glance at Oliver.

The way Oliver was still fuming.

The way I was still too damn aware of Rowan sitting next to me.

And I hated that my leg still throbbed.

Because if I wasn't hurt, I'd already be up, doing something, distracting myself—

Anything to get away from this tension.

Instead, I was trapped here.

Next to him.

With his silent, burning presence suffocating me.

---

Ava and Oliver Kept Fighting—But That Wasn't What Was Driving Me Insane.

I should've been listening to them.

I should've been paying attention to the fact that our food was running out and the storm outside wasn't stopping anytime soon.

Instead?

I was hyper-aware of the fact that Rowan hadn't moved.

That he was still sitting there, his chair just close enough to mine that I could feel the heat of him.

Like he was waiting.

Like he was daring me to look at him.

And the second I did—

Rowan shifted, leaning just slightly toward me, voice low.

"You okay?"

I blinked.

"What?"

His eyes flicked to my leg. "You're still in pain."

"I'm fine," I muttered.

His gaze hardened.

But he didn't argue.

Didn't call me out.

Didn't push.

And for some reason, that annoyed me more.

Because Rowan Devereux never let things go.

So why now?

---

Before I Could Figure It Out, Oliver Gave Up on Ava.

He sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair.

"You know what? Fine. Be mad."

Ava turned, fire in her eyes. "Oh, I plan to."

And then she stormed out again, slamming the door behind her.

Oliver let out a frustrated groan, dragging a chair away from the table and dropping into it.

He leaned back, rubbing his temples, and finally looked at us.

"What the hell is wrong with her?"

Rowan let out a quiet scoff. "Do you really want that list?"

Oliver shot him a glare. "Not helping."

Caleb just sighed. "She'll cool off. Just give her time."

Oliver muttered something under his breath before looking at me.

"And you? You still bleeding out over there?"

I rolled my eyes. "Wouldn't that make your day?"

He smirked. "Maybe."

Before I could answer, Rowan stood up.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stretched, his movements sharp, tense.

He didn't say anything.

Just ran a hand through his hair before turning toward the window.

The storm still raged outside, wind howling, rain slamming against the glass.

Something about the way he was looking at it made my stomach twist.

Like he wasn't really seeing it.

Like something else was on his mind.

And I had a bad feeling I knew what it was.

Because I wasn't the only one who'd been struggling to breathe in this room.