Wrong For Me

“Fuck you.”

“If you’re lucky.” With that, he storms off, slamming the door to the spare room behind him.

And there I stand, alone in my kitchen, with more questions than I can even begin to work through.An hour passes before Alec shows his face again, phone to his ear.

“Yeah. I made sure. Don’t worry; I got it under control.” His eyes lift to mine. “I might have to talk your daughter off a ledge, but I can be persuasive.” He laughs at whatever my traitorous father said and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

“Since when do you talk to my dad?”

“Since always.”

I shift on the couch. “That’s crap. He’s never even liked you.”

“I love how you see only what you want. That something you picked up ’cause your mom left?”

I gasp, and he stares.

I wait for an apology that never comes.Chapter EightOakley“What the fuck do you mean, Alec is staying with you?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“No. No, no, no …” he whispers to himself. I imagine he’s pacing. “Oakley, come stay with me.”

“I … can’t, Row. My dad is crazy adamant about me staying here.”

“You’re a fucking adult, Oakley. You don’t have to listen to your dad. Come to my house. Stay with me. Please.”

“Maybe if you were still next door at your mom’s, but you’re across town now. I can’t.”

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

My brows pull in. “Can’t. Ever since that break-in we had when we went on vacation a few months ago, my dad has made sure someone is home.”

“They didn’t even take anything. That’s an excuse.”

I pinch my lips to the side and sit up on my bed. “Rowan … what’s the real problem here? You’re being an ass.”

“I don’t want him there with you, alone.”

“If I’m not safe with him—”

“No … I …” He groans. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you. He’d never …” He sighs. “You’re safe, Oak.”

I relax into my comforter.

“I want to come over.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’m coming over.”

I laugh. “I can order wings if you wanna grab them on your way?”

“Call now?”

“Yeah.”

I hang up and order right away before taking my time in changing out of my work clothes and into a pair of thermal pajamas. Then, I head into the living room to find something to watch.

Alec comes out of the room he’s taken over the second he hears my footsteps.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to watch something.”

He frowns. “Are you not tired? It’s nine.”

“What are you, sixty? Nine isn’t late.”

“It is for someone who is at work before six a.m. and doesn’t leave until after seven.”

“I’m fine.”

I start to fidget with the pillows on the couch, and the more I do, the tenser I grow. I can feel his eyes narrowing more by the second, and I can practically hear the questions running through his head. He’s wondering what the hell I’m up to. Usually, I have a hell of a poker face but not where Alec is concerned. He throws everything off-balance.

He doesn’t have to wonder long because the front door starts to jiggle, the sound of keys on the other side.

My eyes fly to Alec, who has a murderous glare pinned on me.

“He has a key.”

I simply shrug, and then the door is open.

Rowan steps into the living room, not pausing or acknowledging the sight of Alec but stepping straight up to me and slowly kissing my cheek, his hand wrapping around my back.

I blush hard, but I’m not sure if it’s in lieu of the possessive nature in which Rowan is touching me or the effect of the boiling gaze locked on mine behind him.

When Rowan steps back, he looks down at me. “Come on. Your bed is more comfortable.”

I hear a scoff behind him and notice the hard edge Rowan’s eyes take on at the sound.

Rowan has no clue what my bed feels like. He’s always steered clear, sticking to the couch until he runs out, except for the last time when he said he stayed all night. But I don’t fight it.

I’ve wanted him there for as long as I can remember.

“Yeah. Okay,” I agree.

Rowan grabs my hand, dragging me past Alec without a word.

I don’t look back, but I know he’s watching.

As we settle on my bed, the walls shake from the vibration of the front door slamming closed in the distance.

“Good. He’s gone.”

I give a half-shrug, opening the box of chicken wings.

“What, you wanted him here?”

“No, Rowan. I don’t want him here.”

“Good.”

I stare at him as we eat. “What happened with you guys? You two used to be super close, and now, you can hardly look at each other.”

“We don’t see eye to eye, is all.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Look”—Rowan’s eyes flit between mine, his face pinched tight—“he tried to step in where he didn’t belong. I told him what would happen if he did, and he didn’t care. Eventually, he … came to terms with it, and we agreed to disagree.”