Rowe by Jessica Gadziala

CHAPTER THREE

Billie

“I swear to God, Billie, if you feed me any more tofu and sprouted beans, I am going to be forced to order a big, greasy, cheese-filled burrito,” Violet grumbled from the half-opened bathroom door, the steam pouring out from her hot shower, thanks to the lack of an exhaust fan in the room.

I guiltily slipped the container of extra firm tofu back into the lunchmeat drawer.

What can I say? It was a staple of my diet. I sometimes forgot that my friends and family didn’t like it. In my defense, though, I’d only served her sprouted beans once. And it was on top of a giant salad, not the main course.

“Well, shame on me for trying to get something healthy into your body,” I griped, glancing over the contents of my fridge, then my freezer, realizing I didn’t have anything she would likely find halfway palatable. “But maybe we should order in. Burritos actually sound good.”

“There’s a place around here who does rice, beans, and veg ones for your vegetarian ass,” she told me, coming out of the bathroom in a pair of men’s blue and green boxers—loose in the ass with a pocket in the front she had no use for—and a black ribbed tee. She was still drying her dark hair with a towel as she came into the kitchen. “I think they even have plant-based cheese.”

“That sounds like a plan then. Do we assemble the bitches, or keep it just the two of us?” I asked. “Was that a hard question?” I asked, smiling, when Vi just stood there in a daze for a moment.

“Well, Gracie is having guy trouble again, isn’t she? And Hope always says she will come, then flakes off for work. Willa is out of town for a meeting. That leaves Andi and Luna.”

“Andi has a litter of opossums,” I supplied.

“Oh, right. At least they’re not rabid raccoons,” Violet said, grimacing.

“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?”

“I had to get rabies shots, Billie. Rabies.”

“So… Luna?” I asked.

“Luna will be buried in a book. Maybe…” she started, trailing off when the apartment door opened.

And there was Malc, swallowing up the entire doorway, standing there with a flabbergasted look on his face.

“You’re catching flies, Big Guy,” Vi said, smirking at him.

“This was open,” Malcolm said, voice airless, like he’d gotten the wind kicked out of him.

“Obviously,” Violet agreed.

“Unlocked,” he added.

“Seems like it,” Vi said, nodding.

“You two are alone in here.” When he got no response to that from us, he threw out one of those big arms of his. “You have to lock the fucking door. You live on the first floor. Anyone could waltz right in. And don’t try to tell me that this black stone thing would keep people with bad intentions out,” he grumbled, motioning to the black tourmaline I had hanging next to the door for that very reason, actually.

“You’re grumpy,” I declared. “Have you not been sleeping enough? I can make you more of that herbal—“

“No!” the word rushed out of him too fast, a horrified, disgusted sound. And, to be fair, I hadn’t been able to find a way to make his tea palatable. I’d barely been able to choke it down myself. “I mean, I’m sleeping fine,” he said, moving inside and closing the door.

“Nice save,” Vi mumbled, shooting him a smirk.

“I’m actually here for a favor,” he said, looking at me.

“I’m always happy to help. Unless it is ripping up the mint I planted at the clubhouse. Because I want that there.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s… well, it’s Rowe,” he said, shuffling the boats he called feet.

“Rowe?” Vi asked when I suddenly couldn’t force my tongue, voice box, or brain to work together to form a sentence.

Which was likely because my mind was shooting off in a million different directions at once at the mention of his name.

I’d been trying to avoid thinking about him, to be perfectly honest. It was harder to do since I’d learned of his fall, but I’d just done what people who couldn’t face up their issues have been doing for generations. I threw myself into my work. I took on extra yoga classes for a teacher who was out on maternity leave. I added more private clients to my list. I put up new products in my online storefront.

I kept busy.

And keeping busy helped keep my mind from imagining that beautiful man falling backward off of a roof after being shot. Or picturing him in a hospital bed, needing love and support, maybe some feminine energy, but getting surrounded by tough-it-out and rub-some-dirt-in-it dudes instead.

Did he still slip in here and there?

Obviously.

Especially in those quiet moments before sleep when I would mentally plan out herbal teas and salves I could make to help him recover. And then need to remind myself that I was the last person in the world he wanted any sort of nursing from.

“What about Rowe?” Violet asked when I still couldn’t seem to form a sentence. “He’s back, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, we got him back here five days ago. But, ah, he’s not doing so great,” Malc admitted, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, his head ducked, gaze on the floor. It was a vulnerable position for him. He was worried about his friend.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Malc,” I said, moving forward, reaching for his hand, holding it between both of mine. “This can’t be easy on you.”

At that, I got a humorless snort. “It’s not easy on anyone right now. He’s… he’s a miserable fuck. I say that with love, but it is what it is.”

“I get it. Remember the time that runner closed the door on my hand and broke three fingers? I was so fucking nasty.”

“We pretty much threw food at you and ran,” Malc agreed, smiling a bit at the memory, but there was tension around his eyes. “But Rowe is just… he’s giving up,” Malcolm explained.

“On what?” Vi asked as I led Malcolm inside, pushing him into a seat at the table as I went to flick the kettle on, and grab the pour-over coffee supplies.

“Everything,” Malcolm said, shrugging. “Getting out of pain, getting to therapy, living his life. He sits in his room staring at the wall.”

“What do you want Billie to do?” Violet asked. “I mean if you want to give him a kick in the ass, isn’t Ferryn more suited for the job? Hell, even Hope or me. Not Billie.”

“I don’t think he needs a kick in the ass. I think he’s doing enough of that to himself,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” Malcolm agreed. “He just… he needs help. I know we rag on you for your natural healing and woo-woo shit,” he went on, waving around my apartment that was, admittedly, rather woo-woo. “But we all know that nothing works on bug bites like the salve you make. And nothing kicks a cold faster than your tea. You have ways. And I was just thinking that maybe your ways could help Rowe feel better, and that would make him start taking his recovery more seriously. His doctors wanted him at therapy already. And he just… he has no motivation.”

“I can definitely make him some salves and teas and even compresses for you to bring to him.”

“I was thinking more that… maybe I could bring him here?” Malc said.

“Here?” I asked, wondering if Vi and Malc heard the creak in my voice, or if it was just in my own head. “Why?” I added after taking a calming breath.

“I don’t know. Wave some crystals in his face. Pick shit out of his aura. I don’t know how this stuff works,” he admitted. “Maybe a massage.”

“A massage?” I parroted, feeling my pulse skitter at the very idea.

“Yeah, I mean… I don’t know. Maybe it is still too sore. I’m just spitballing. I am willing to try anything. He can’t go on like this for too much longer. It’s eating him up.”

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “But have you… have you mentioned this to him?” I asked.

“Honestly? No. I don’t think he’d be open to it.”

“How do you expect to get him here then?”

To that, Malc laughed. It was a sad, dark sound. “Lie,” he said.

“And what if he gets here, and he is not happy about it?” I asked.

“I want to make something very clear. You and me, we are never going to be a thing. So you need to stop trying. It’s getting sad.”

Ugh.

No.

I needed to stop letting that memory resurface.

It didn’t do anyone any good.

“What’s he going to do with a broken back? Run away?” Violet asked, smirking. “I know, I know. I’m a terrible person,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “But, I mean, once he’s here, he’s here. If you can talk him into some treatments, great. If not, hey, at least you tried. And Malc can rest easier knowing he’s tried everything.”

“True,” I agreed, taking a deep breath.

“Do you have any openings tomorrow?” Malc asked.

“In the late afternoon, yeah. I had a client cancel their appointment. I can see Rowe then.”

Which gave me approximately a full day to try to put up some guards to try to protect myself around him.

It wasn’t nearly enough time.

But it was all I was going to get.

“Gee, I just remembered. I have to go and nag my parents tomorrow late afternoon,” Vi said, snapping as she swung her arm as if she was so disappointed. “Shucks, I am going to miss Mr. Grumpy Ass.”

“That’s not nice, Vi,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, but who has ever called me nice?” she shot back.

“Well, you have a point,” I agreed.

“So, it’s settled,” Malcolm said, looking relieved, making me realize just how stressed out he was.

“Yes,” I agreed, moving into the living room, and snatching a crystal out of the bowl on the table.

“Purple this time,” Malcolm said, taking the amethyst tower I handed to him.

“It’s for anxiety relief. Just… keep it in your pocket.”

“Alright.”

“Do you need any tea to—“

“No,” he cut me off, getting to his feet so quickly that he nearly overturned the chair. “No, thanks. I, ah, I have to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” he said, giving Vi a one-arm hug as he moved past her. “You need to make sure she’s locking the door. I know you have more sense than that,” he added.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Vi said when he left. “We know better than being that careless.”

Well, she maybe did. I was told to lock my door, but I often left it open so friends could pop over and feel welcome. I never told my loved ones that, of course, because I would likely come home to some sort of monstrous door that locked itself whenever it closed.

“So, you’re going to play nursemaid to Rowe, huh?” she asked, eyebrows wiggling.

“He’s just a client,” I said, glad when my tone came out breezy.

“Sure, yeah. Sure he is.”

“He is.”

And that was all he would ever be.

Because the man wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.