2. Rowan

2

ROWAN

" G otcha!" I exclaim as I reach for my left shoe, which is tucked under my sleeping bag.

I dig through one of my two duffel bags, managing to find a clean pair of socks. I’ll need to figure out a way to do laundry soon, but I haven’t had the energy to do much exploring of this new town and its laundromat situation. My feet are so swollen after my shifts at the diner, the last thing I want to do is walk around.

Plus, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. No use making connections and getting familiar with anyone if I’m going to be leaving. Besides, the fewer people who remember me, the better. I wouldn’t want anyone to face questioning from my father. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about being in the same town, let alone seeing him face to face.

I close my eyes against the flashback of that horrendous night. The last time I saw my father, he was bending over a bruised and bloodied body…

“No,” I tell myself out loud, prying my eyelids open and forcing myself back into the present moment. I can’t let myself go there. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I don’t have much of a plan except to earn money when I can and keep running when he gets too close. What other choice do I have? My father won’t let me live after what I witnessed, and if he does, he’ll make my life such a nightmare I’ll beg for death.

“Don’t go there,” I repeat, placing a hand over my rapidly beating heart. “You’re safe now,” I tell myself. The words are hollow. I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe again.

There’s no time to dwell on that, however. Not when my shift at Gracie May’s starts in ten minutes. I grab my keys, shoving them into my purse before I slip on my ratty sneakers and fumble my way out of my apartment. It’s hardly worth locking the door, seeing as the only things inside are a sleeping bag and my dirty laundry, but I do anyway.

My apartment is tiny, discrete, and unremarkable, which is exactly what I want. It’s also a short walk to the diner, which is a plus. Then again, almost everything is within walking distance in this town.

I turn my attention to the beautiful day. It's warm and bright outside and smells like fresh-cut grass. As I stroll past the cute little shops on Main Street, I imagine what it would be like to put down roots here.

I would grab a scone from the coffee shop on the corner and munch on it while on my way to the Farmer’s Market, held every Saturday morning in the park. A tentative smile spreads across my face when I picture coming home with fresh flowers for my furnished apartment. Maybe I would even get a cat to keep me company.

Something rips me from my daydream and I freeze, unsure what just happened. Nothing has changed, and yet something is different. I can feel it in my gut as it folds in on itself. I can feel it in the hairs standing up on the back of my neck and in my chest as it grows tighter, tighter, tighter, making it impossible to breathe.

I clutch my purse and hunch my shoulders up, everything in me tense and shaking as I take a few trembling steps toward the diner. Someone is watching me , I think to myself. I look to my left and then to my right, scanning the sidewalk and road for anything or anyone out of place.

Of course, everything is normal. I’m being paranoid.

I take one last look over my shoulder before crossing the street toward Gracie May's. As soon as my foot hits the road, a car horn blares at me. I yelp and jump back seconds before a red truck speeds past me.

Get it the fuck together! I yell internally. I have a murderous, power-hungry monster hunting for me. It would be embarrassing to die from something as stupid as not looking both ways before crossing the street.

I'm mostly back to normal by the time I clock in and tie my apron on. That is until I turn around and see him. Jett .

My face flushes and I have to look away from the tall, muscled, tattooed, Greek god of a man who has been coming into the diner every day for a cup of coffee. He gives me a ridiculous fifty-dollar tip every time he leaves, though the man has hardly spoken ten words to me.

I’m not sure what to make of him, but everyone at the diner respects Jett and the MC he belongs to, Deviant Souls. I don’t know much about that world, but it seems dangerous. Then again, Jett has never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable. Flustered, yes. Hot and bothered, absolutely. But he’s never made me feel unsafe.

As I step out from behind the counter, Jett straightens up, his green eyes locking onto mine. It’s like he can sense when I’m near. I know I’m crazy and I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing, but my brain has to hang on to something good. Right now, seeing Jett is the only bright spot in my day, even if he doesn’t say much.

“Morning,” I greet him, unable to hide my cheesy smile. I can’t help it. The man is gorgeous and for some reason, he only lets me wait on him. My co-workers have told me he’ll just sit and wait in his usual booth until I show up.

“Morn…” he trails off, those dark green eyes of his scanning me up and down while his brows furrow in concern. “What’s wrong? Did someone upset you? Who? What did they do?”

I blink a few times, surprised by his reaction. Jett looks like he’s about to hunt down whoever or whatever is bothering me. I’ve never had anyone care for me in that way or want to protect me so fiercely. It’s overwhelming and I’m not sure what to say.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” he grunts, running a hand down his face. I follow the movement with my eyes, watching his muscles flex. “I’m being too intense,” he says more to himself than to me.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him, still confused. I’m giving him my most genuine smile, so I’m not sure how he knows I’m still rattled from my paranoid walk over here. “I’m okay. Really. I’m fine. I’m good, I promise.”

Jett looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. “The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Well… I, uh… Coffee?” I stutter out. “Or maybe I can interest you in the bacon, mushroom, white cheddar omelet?” I ask, hoping to get the focus off of me.

I have my notepad in one hand and my pen in the other, waiting for his order. Jett never breaks eye contact as he slowly reaches out, covering both of my hands with his massive one.

“You’re trembling, beautiful,” he murmurs.

I didn’t realize I was still so shaken up from my walk over here, but as soon as his warm skin grazes across mine, the last of my anxiety leaves me. How did he do that with just one touch?

“Weird morning,” I finally settle on. “I’m just being silly,” I say dismissively.

“It’s more than that, but I won’t press. Just know I’m here. I don’t talk much, but that makes me a good listener, right?”

I nibble on my bottom lip as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. Why is he being so nice? Who is this man and why does he care so much? Also, did he call me beautiful?

All I can do is nod. Jett senses the moment is too much and he withdraws his hand. As insane as it sounds, I miss his touch already. A familiar, cold loneliness creeps into my bones in his absence.

“Just coffee today,” Jett says, the intensity of his stare making me feel exposed. “Take your time, Rowan. I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

I know he’s not just talking about waiting for his coffee. He’s waiting for me .

“Thank you,” is all I can say before turning and rushing to the bathroom.

Once inside, I rest my back against the cool metal of the door, allowing myself a few deep breaths. What the hell was that? And why do I want to fall into his arms and tell him all of my secrets?

No. Nope. It’s too dangerous. I won’t be here forever, and the fewer connections I make, the better. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Truthfully, I’ve been alone for so damn long. Even before going on the run, I had no one protecting me. No one watching out for me. No one and nowhere safe to hide.

But Jett… Jett makes me feel safe and seen, maybe for the first time ever.