Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 25

Marx

In the dim light of my room, I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. The room is quiet, almost suffocatingly so. The only sounds are the occasional hum of traffic outside and the distant laughter of Cruz and Locke from the living room below.

But I'm not part of that world right now. I'm here, in this self-imposed isolation, my thoughts a tangled web I can't seem to escape from. Tonight was a close call—a wake-up call.

Why had she been walking alone at night? Why hadn't Fowler been there to pick her up? He's the one she's been spending nights with, after all. I know this all too well. The other night, I'd walked past her room and heard her, heard them. The soft gasps, the muted moans. Sounds that had no business stirring something deep within me, but they did. I'd walked away then, my fists clenched, a burning feeling of something like jealousy knotting my stomach.

Damn it, I shouldn't be thinking about this. Especially not now.

I shake my head as if the physical action could somehow scatter these treacherous thoughts. But the image of her tonight, standing in that store, her eyes wide with relief when she saw me, lingers in my mind. It's a look I've never seen directed at me before, and it does something strange to me—unsettles me, but also makes me want to see it again.

Why do I care so much? Why does the thought of her alone, vulnerable, stir this primal urge to protect? I've never been the knight-in-shining-armor type. Far from it. My past is littered with choices and actions that are anything but noble.

But with Emersyn, it's different. I can't shake the feeling that she's someone I could—no, should—be better for.

I go over to the window and look out. The street below is quiet, the world bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. It's peaceful out there, a stark contrast to the war happening in my head.

I think back to the moment in the car, how I'd asked for her phone, shared her location with me. I'd seen the surprise in her eyes, the uncertainty. But she hadn't questioned it, hadn't pushed back. She'd trusted me. That trust weighs heavily on me, feels like both a gift and a responsibility.

I need to sort myself out. I can't let this undefined, complicated thing between Emersyn and me mess with my head. But even as I think it, I know it's already too late. She's gotten under my skin, infiltrated my thoughts, and I'm not sure what the hell to do about it.

And what's worse? I'm not sure I want to do anything about it.

This is dangerous territory I'm stepping into. Feelings, especially ones as messy as these, have no place in the life I've built for myself. It's a life that's always been about self-preservation, about keeping people at a distance so they can't get close enough to hurt you.

But as I lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling and grappling with emotions I don't fully understand, I realize something that chills me to my core.

For the first time in a long time, I'm not sure I want to be alone.

And that thought, more than any other, keeps me awake long into the night.