Chapter 185
Rowan's POV
"But you deserved so much more than that, Lena. You deserved someone who saw you, who valued you, who wasn't too much of a coward to admit he was falling for you. And I failed you. I failed you every single day of our marriage because I was too busy protecting myself to realize I was destroying the one thing I actually wanted."
My voice cracked on the last word, and I had to look away, blinking hard against the sudden burn in my eyes.
"I'm not telling you this to make excuses," I said quietly. "I just... I need you to know that I'm not some perfect guy who has it all figured out. I'm a mess, Lena. I've spent my whole life running from anything that felt too real, too risky. And the worst part is, I didn't even realize I was doing it until I'd already lost you."
I felt her hand tighten around mine, and when I looked back at her, her eyes were wet.
"You haven't lost me," she whispered.
The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.
"But you were so brave," I said, my voice rough. "You always have been. You let yourself love me even when I gave you nothing back. You faced your father, your mother, all of it, and you kept moving forward. You didn't hide. You didn't run. You just... kept being you."
Lena shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. "I don't feel brave, Rowan. I feel like I've been barely holding it together for years. Like one more thing will break me."
"Then let me hold you together," I said, shifting closer and cupping her face with my free hand. "Let me be the one who catches you when you fall. I know I don't deserve it. I know I have no right to ask. But I'm asking anyway."
Her breath hitched, and a tear slipped down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"I'm so tired, Rowan," she whispered. "I'm so tired of being strong."
"Then don't be," I said softly. "Not here. Not with me. You don't have to be anything but exactly who you are."
For a long moment, she just stared at me, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to decide whether to believe me. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against my shoulder.
I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight, pressing my face into her hair and breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo. She didn't cry this time. She just... let go. Let herself be held. Let herself rest.
And I sat there on that old couch in the cabin where I'd spent so many lonely afternoons as a kid, holding the woman I loved, and swore to myself that I would never let her feel alone again.
---
The sun was sinking lower now, painting the lake in shades of rose and violet. I could feel Lena's breathing evening out against my chest, the tension slowly draining from her body as exhaustion finally caught up with her.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" I asked quietly. "There's a guest room. Clean sheets, everything you'd need. And it's quiet. No one will bother you."
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her expression uncertain. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to go back to the city tonight. You don't have to face anything you're not ready for. Just... stay. Rest."
She bit her lip, and I could see her weighing the offer, calculating whether it was safe to let her guard down even for one night.
"Okay," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. I'll stay."
Relief flooded through me, so intense it was almost painful. I stood and offered her my hand again, pulling her to her feet.
"Come on," I said. "I'll show you the guest room. And then I'll make us something to eat. Nothing fancy, but I promise it'll be better than hospital cafeteria food."
That earned me a faint smile, the first I'd seen from her all day. It was small and fragile, but it was there, and it felt like a victory.
I led her down the short hallway to the guest room—a cozy space with a double bed, a nightstand, and another window overlooking the lake. I pulled back the quilt and fluffed the pillows while she stood in the doorway, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Bathroom's across the hall," I said, straightening up. "There should be towels in the cabinet if you want to take a shower. And if you need anything—anything at all—I'll be in the kitchen."
She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together.
I crossed the room and paused in front of her, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms again.
"You're safe here, Lena," I said quietly. "I promise."
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the fragile trust there—tentative and uncertain, but real.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I left her there and headed back to the kitchen, my chest tight with a tangle of emotions I couldn't begin to name. As I pulled ingredients from the fridge and started prepping a simple pasta dish, I could hear the sound of the shower running down the hall.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.