Chapter 5

Rowan knew he had to get out of Master Gabriel's car. He should be polite, friendly, grateful. He really shouldn't want to feel those strong arms around him, hot breath on his cheek, the scrape of stubble on his neck.

"Text me in an hour. I want to know you're okay."

Because that's what friends did? Rowan knew he should be grateful. Friends had been few and far between in his life. Did Master Gabriel wanting to be his friend make his life better, or had things just gotten immeasurably worse? Obediently promising to text him in an hour, Rowan climbed out and headed miserably to the door. His father was usually in his study or in bed when he got home, but as he was earlier than normal, he could see all the lights on, and his heart sank.

Philip Wilson was a tech giant who had originally jumped on the cell phone bandwagon and made his money selling game apps that multiple strangers could play against each other simply by connecting their phone. He was ten years older than Rowan's mother, and even as a young child Rowan had known they disliked each other. His father had tried when Rowan was younger to get him interested in various sports, but every time Rowan so much as got a tiny bruise, his mother would practically have hysterics, and they would start fighting again.

Rowan simply found it easier to refuse his father's attempts to play sports to stop the resulting confrontation, and it wasn't long he supposed until his father simply stopped asking. In a lot of ways, he didn't blame his mother because Rowan seemed to always be sick with one thing or another. His stomach was particularly sensitive, to the point that his mother had started cooking him special meals, even before he got cancer and his life went to hell.

Then he'd piled on weight. His doctor had tried to explain that it was because of the hormone treatment he eventually had to have but getting Rowan slim became his mother's new mission in life.

His father went the other way. After his mother left and took Rowan with her, his father tried to step up more, even tried to get him to call him dad, saying it had been Mother who had insisted on the more formal names. Rowan had happily agreed until he'd made the mistake of referring to his father as Dad when he had been at Mother's. She was furious. She hadn't ever hit him or anything, but her silences were even worse, and then he'd had another bout of sickness and she'd been so caring, he'd resolved never to call his father anything else. It was the least he could do. He knew it was his own fault she treated him as such a baby. He'd never stuck up for himself once, and it seemed that when they all lived together Rowan just tried to keep the peace, and then he just continued doing the same after the divorce.

He closed the door behind him and took a step toward the stairs, hoping his father hadn't heard him.

"Rowan?"

Rowan sighed, but obediently went into the dining room. As he went in, he stopped in surprise at the woman who stood next to his father. "Rowan, this is my friend Hilary."

Rowan returned her smile and liked the firm handshake. "I was hoping you would be back a little earlier so we could talk," Father said, and Rowan, wanting to please as always, obediently took the chair closest to him.

Father got another glass from the cabinet next to the table and Rowan blinked in shock as he noticed they were drinking champagne, and he was clearly pouring Rowan one. "Is that okay?" Father said rather nervously. Rowan nodded and took the glass. He never drank for a million different reasons, but tonight, he felt rebellious.

Father glanced at Hilary as if for either courage or approval, but then he turned to Rowan. "I don't really know where to start," he confessed.

"Phil, how about I leave you to it, then you can talk to Rowan in private?"

Phil? But then Rowan noticed his father seemed uncomfortable, so ever the pleaser, Rowan jumped in. "I'm fine," he assured them both.

His father shot another worried look at Hilary and much to his surprise, she chuckled. "What your dad is trying and failing miserably to tell you, is that he just asked me to marry him, and I said yes."

Rowan gaped, but then he got himself together quickly and smiled. That was fantastic. He knew his father was lonely. He lifted his glass. "Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

He caught another worried glance from his father, but before he could puzzle it out, Hilary spoke again. "Your dad is worried about the potential effect on you. I'm a middle school principal and this house is a little too far out for me, work wise. Your dad isn't as stuck geographically, especially as he's decided to cut back on his work hours, so he's going to move in with me initially and then we'll look for somewhere together." She smiled as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "But what we both want you to know is that while I live probably thirty miles away, there's plenty of room and you will always be very welcome."

Rowan made appropriate noises, but he was so stunned, he didn't escape when his father escorted Hilary to her car. He hadn't even registered a different one in the driveway, as his father had half a dozen. In fact, it wasn't until his father came back in the dining room that Rowan realized he'd made a mistake not retreating to his room immediately, and he started to get up, intending to escape.

"Rowan," his dad briefly touched his arm. "I don't want to keep you if you're tired but there's something else I want to talk to you about." He walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a brandy. Rowan shook his head when his father offered him some.

"I've been an utterly crap father."

Rowan gaped. A million denials and reassurances rose, but his father held up a hand. "Let me say what I need to." Rowan nodded slowly. "I've been dating Hilary for a little over six months, and tonight is the first time you've met her or even heard me mention her."

Rowan stayed silent, not sure what to say. It was true, but he and his father had never shared confidences.

"I don't think it would help to hear me listing the reasons I and your mother weren't compatible, and to be honest I think it might have been better for you if we'd divorced earlier. I'm very ashamed of the fights you witnessed, and I'm even more ashamed that I took the easy way out and just let your mother parent you. Then when you were diagnosed, I felt—" His father took a breath. "I felt like it was my fault. That we'd been so wrapped up in our own drama, I'd missed the signs that should have been followed up on. I let your mother dictate all your treatment options when you should have been consulted, especially when you were older."

Treatment options?What treatment options?

"I knew you weren't happy at school, but the few occasions I tried to talk to you about it, you got distressed." Because Rowan had been terrified of his mother's reaction.

"You're twenty-one years old. I'm well aware you're very intelligent and have both an associate's and a bachelor's degree in mathematics, and you look like you're heading for a third one." He smiled. "I'm incredibly proud of you, and I'm not sure I've ever told you that."

"You have," Rowan assured him. It had been brief, and Rowan had hated the attention. He'd avoided his dad for two weeks after that.

"I want us to sit down, or maybe go out and grab a coffee or a beer, so you can tell me about your studies and what you'd like to do going forward. I also want to reiterate what Hilary said. You have a home with us for as long or as short a time as you need it." He paused. "I also want you to know you have other options, because thirty miles, while it might not sound that far away, can be a bit of a trek for college and study groups."

Rowan held his breath. It meant living with his mother all the time. There would be no way he could ever go to the club again. Although, after tonight that might not be a bad thing but the thought of being forced to live with his mother all the time made him want to jump off a cliff.

"So, I was thinking we could start going apartment hunting."

Rowan wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "But I thought you were moving in with Hilary?"

His father chuckled. "For you, Rowan, for you."

"For me?"

His father nodded. "I blinked and suddenly you're twenty-one and a talented mathematician. Hilary's own passion was math before her duties took her away from the classroom, but she'd very much like to talk to you about your studies."

His father glanced down and sighed. "I'm sorry you've never felt able to talk to me before about anything, and I understand why you might want a little extra privacy, so sharing an apartment isn't an option, but you ought to see where your friends are staying. See if any of them are in complexes you could rent in as well? You know money isn't a consideration."

Rowan nodded slowly, his mind going a million miles an hour. Did he dare? His mother would go insane. She'd always said he was too sick to live alone, although if she was serious about John, maybe she would move to Phoenix?

But what if she made him go with her? Rowan wanted to vomit at that thought. But how could he turn his back on her after all the sacrifices she'd made? She'd even lost her job at one point because she'd had to take too much time off to look after him. She'd definitely lost at least one promotion because of him as well, and he'd been the reason she'd never remarried.

He remembered the first evening he'd ever dared to insist he be allowed to go to an actual study group on his own when he was a high-school senior, not the made-up excuse of one he gave his father. He'd come home to find her in floods of tears because she'd been dating someone at work she'd only seen on the weekends when Rowan was at his father's. It had come out that he'd wanted her to go on a trip with him to attend his sister's wedding in Colorado, but because Rowan had exams coming up, she couldn't take him with them. She'd even asked his father if Rowan could stay with him, but he'd said no because he had to go on a work conference in New Mexico.

Rowan had wanted so badly to say he'd be okay on his own, but he never seemed able to push the words past his throat. It was the first and last time he'd ever gone to a study group in the evening. He still saw his college friends occasionally, but not very often. Father was still looking at him and Rowan felt like he had to say something. "You're cutting back on your hours?"

"Yes, especially since I can sell this monstrosity," he joked. "To be honest, I never needed to work all the hours I did. I was avoiding your mom, and much to my shame, it meant I avoided you."

Rowan didn't want him feeling bad though, especially as he'd done just as much avoiding. "You had a lot of work trips, though."

"That's true. When you were younger, I spent a lot of time backwards and forwards to Toronto."

"And New Mexico," Rowan agreed, and probably a hundred other places.

His father tipped his head a little, confused. "New Mexico?" He shook his head. "No, we were always split by areas, and that wasn't mine."

Rowan's heart started pounding. "Never?"

"No, I went to Albuquerque once when I was around your age, but not since then. Why?"

Rowan shrugged, getting up. He probably remembered it wrong. "I'm going to take a shower." He knew he should say something else. "But I like the idea of an apartment," he added, almost in a whisper.

"Great," his father beamed. "How about if after breakfast tomorrow we work out a few areas you like, then take it from there?"

"I'd like that." The word Dad was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't add it. Maybe tomorrow. For now, he had a text to write.