Will Try
Asher leaned back slowly against the pillows, his voice rough but clearer than before. “Carter’s fine.”
I blinked. “He is?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Stubborn bastard took a hit, but he’s alive. Stitches, bruised ribs… but he made it.”
Relief rushed through me faster than I could stop it. I let out a slow breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“He carried me out,” Asher added, eyes distant now. “Even after everything I did. After I buried him once, he still carried me out.”
I looked at him, really looked. He seemed smaller now, softer. Still dangerous in ways I hadn’t yet unlearned—but the edges of the obsession weren’t as sharp today. There was just… tiredness. Maybe regret.
“Have you talked to him?” I asked.
He gave a weak smile. “He came earlier. Told me not to be an idiot next time I fall in love.”
I snorted. “Sounds like Carter.”
“I told him I might not get a next time.”
We both fell silent at that.
After a moment, Asher looked up at me, hopeful. “Visits tomorrow… please?”
His voice cracked at the end, like he already feared the answer.
I hesitated, my hand resting on the door handle. "I'll try," I said softly. And it wasn't a lie—I would try. Because despite everything, beneath the layers of pain and anger, I still saw glimpses of the man who'd once been my closest friend. But I couldn't promise more than that.
He nodded once, accepting my words with quiet resignation. "That's enough."
The door clicked shut behind me, leaving me alone in the sterile silence of the hallway. I stood there for a second, breathing deeply, trying to regain some sense of balance.
When I returned to the room where Rowan had been transferred, I found him sitting up against a stack of pillows, his chest bandaged tightly beneath his hospital gown. He had his arms crossed, and the moment I entered, I knew something was wrong.
"What?" I asked cautiously, shutting the door behind me.
"You're visiting him now?" Rowan's tone was sharp, but beneath it was a thread of vulnerability he couldn't quite hide.
"He took a bullet for us," I replied evenly, stepping closer. "I wanted to make sure he was okay."
"He's a danger to you, Remi. You can't just—"
"I know," I interrupted, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed. "But he's also someone who needs help. And maybe if I'd noticed sooner—"
"Don't," Rowan warned softly. "Don't blame yourself for his obsession."
I sighed, leaning forward slightly, my shoulders heavy with exhaustion. "It's not that simple."
"Nothing ever is with you," he muttered, though his voice had lost its edge. "You always find the complexity in everyone."
"I found complexity in you, too," I said quietly, glancing up at him. "That's why we're here."
He stared at me, eyes intense, emotions shifting just beneath the surface. Then, without another word, he reached up and pulled me closer, closing the distance between us and pressing his lips firmly against mine.
The kiss was unexpected, warm, fierce. For a moment, everything around us faded—the hospital, the pain, the fear. It was just Rowan and me, reconnecting in a way we hadn't allowed ourselves to do in years.
"Ewww!"
We broke apart immediately, turning toward the door where Larry and Laura stood with matching expressions of exaggerated disgust. Jo stood behind them, smirking.
Laura wrinkled her nose dramatically. "Are you two kissing? Gross!"
Larry just shook his head solemnly, like he’d expected better from us. "Honestly, Mom."
Jo laughed, nudging them gently forward. "Alright, alright, give them some space. They were having a grown-up moment."
Larry eyed Rowan suspiciously. "Are you our mom's boyfriend now?"
Rowan opened his mouth, but I quickly shifted away, cheeks heating. "That's enough questions for tonight."
Jo grinned knowingly. "I'll let you guys have some family time. But kids, don't let your mom make any more questionable decisions tonight."
Laura giggled as Jo waved and quietly slipped out. The twins immediately climbed onto the second bed in the VIP suite—a spacious room decorated softly with cream-colored walls and plush, comfortable bedding. There were soft lights, cozy furniture, and enough room to almost feel like home rather than a hospital room. They snuggled up next to each other, whispering and giggling.
I watched them fondly, warmth spreading through my chest. "How about a story?"
Larry perked up immediately. "Something fun?"
"Something really fun," Rowan chimed in, sitting up slightly, though he winced from the movement.
"Okay," I agreed, trying to ignore the way Rowan's eyes lingered on me. "How about the time Jo tried baking cookies and almost set the kitchen on fire?"
Laura squealed happily, clutching her pillow. "Again!"
Rowan listened intently as I recounted the disastrous baking experiment—Jo mixing up salt and sugar, smoke alarms blaring, flour everywhere, the twins laughing uncontrollably as I’d rushed in with a fire extinguisher.
By the time I finished, the twins had drifted off, tangled comfortably together beneath the blankets, their breaths deep and even.
I carefully adjusted their covers, brushing soft kisses to each of their foreheads. When I looked up, Rowan was watching me, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"What?" I whispered, cautious not to wake the twins.
He shook his head slightly, a faint smile on his lips. "You're incredible with them."
"I've had practice," I said lightly, standing and moving back to his side of the room.
He caught my hand as I passed, his fingers gentle yet firm. "Remi."
My pulse quickened at the intensity in his voice. "What?"
He hesitated, his thumb gently brushing across my knuckles. "When do we tell them?"
I stilled, breath hitching. "Tell them what?"
He lifted an eyebrow, his expression serious but warm. "When do we tell them they're ours? That they're not just yours, but mine too?"
I swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed. The idea had been something I'd avoided for years—afraid of the consequences, the questions, the confusion. But now, hearing Rowan voice it openly, it didn't sound as terrifying as I'd imagined.
"I don't know," I whispered, glancing back at the twins. "They're happy. I don't want to ruin that."
Rowan's grip tightened slightly, reassuringly. "Telling them the truth won't ruin their happiness, Remi. It might make it even stronger."
I took a deep breath, eyes searching his. "Soon," I finally said. "But not tonight."
He nodded slowly, accepting my answer. "Okay. Not tonight."
I leaned closer, resting my forehead against his, breathing in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Even amid the chaos, the uncertainty, it felt like we were slowly stitching ourselves back together.
But as I closed my eyes, the memory of that photograph flashed vividly across my mind again—the bandaged knee, the unfamiliar swing, the mystery of my childhood hidden deep within its worn edges.
Something in my chest tightened.
For now, though, I buried it. Tonight wasn't for questions or darkness.
Tonight was for family. For safety. For the quiet certainty of knowing that whatever came next, we weren't facing it alone.
Rowan squeezed my hand gently, his voice barely audible. "Whatever you're thinking about—it can wait."
I op
ened my eyes, meeting his steady gaze, allowing his quiet strength to anchor me.
"For tonight," I agreed softly, "it can wait."
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