Chapter 22

Rowan didn’t let herself overthink it.

The moment Lila’s text came through:

Come find me

Something in her chest cracked open, sharp and immediate. Fear was still there, coiled and alert, but it no longer had the final say. Rowan turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot before her doubts could reorganize themselves into something convincing.

The drive felt unreal, like she was moving through a version of the town she’d memorized but never really seen. 

Streetlights blurred past. Her hands were steady on the wheel, but her pulse wasn’t. Every red light felt like an insult. Every second stretched thin.

She replayed the last few days on a loop.

The fence.
Lila’s voice, steady even when it hurt.

I like myself too much to disappear into someone else’s fear.

Rowan swallowed hard.

She’d built her life on being dependable. Captain. Leader. The person who didn’t hesitate when everyone else did. Somewhere along the way, she’d confused restraint with strength, silence with control.

Lila had seen through it in weeks.

Rowan pulled up outside Lila’s house and killed the engine. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the front steps. For a moment, she just sat there, forehead resting against the steering wheel, breathing.

This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t flirting or rivalry or tension she could pretend didn’t matter.

This was a door she couldn’t close again once she knocked.

She got out of the car.

The night air was cool, grounding. Rowan walked up the path slowly, shoes crunching softly against gravel, heart hammering so hard she wondered if Lila could hear it from inside. She hesitated at the bottom step, then climbed the porch and knocked.

It took only a few seconds.

Lila opened the door like she’d been waiting right behind it.

She wasn’t dressed for anyone else. No makeup, hair loose, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. She looked softer like this. Realer. And when her eyes met Rowan’s, something unreadable flickered across her face before settling into something careful.

“You came,” Lila said.

Rowan nodded. “I said I would.”

Lila stepped aside without another word, letting her in. The house was quiet, lights dimmed, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound. Rowan followed her into the living room, every step heavy with anticipation.

They stopped a few feet apart.

No music. No crowd. No distractions.

Just them.

Lila crossed her arms, not defensively, Rowan realized, but like she was holding herself together. “You said you wanted to talk,” she said.

“I do.” Rowan took a breath. “I just— I don’t want to do it wrong.”

Lila let out a small, tired laugh. “You’re already here. That’s something.”

Rowan nodded. She deserved that. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” she said slowly. “About what you said. About space. About choice.”

“And?” Lila prompted, though her voice softened around the edges.

“And I realized I’ve been treating wanting you like it’s a weakness,” Rowan continued. “Like it’s something I need to manage instead of something I need to own.”

Lila’s eyes searched her face, cautious but attentive.

“I’m good at discipline,” Rowan said. “At holding things together. But I’m terrible at letting myself be seen when I don’t have control over the outcome.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make me collateral damage,” Lila said quietly.

Rowan winced. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

The words came easier than she expected. Heavier. Real.

“I never thought you weren’t enough,” Rowan went on, voice low. “You’re the opposite. You’re… too much in the best way. You make everything feel sharper. More honest. And I didn’t trust myself not to ruin that.”

Lila looked away, jaw tightening. “You didn’t answer me that night,” she said. “When I asked why you couldn’t pick me.”

Rowan stepped closer, closing half the distance. “Because I was scared that if I picked you, I wouldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

Lila looked back at her then, eyes dark. “And now?”

Rowan didn’t hesitate. “Now I’m more scared of losing you.”

The silence that followed was thick, but it wasn’t empty. Lila uncrossed her arms slowly, fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve.

“I don’t need you to be fearless,” Lila said. “I just need you to stop running when things get real.”

“I’m not running,” Rowan said. “I drove here.”

Lila huffed out a breath. “Bare minimum, Hale.”

Rowan smiled faintly. “I know. But it’s a start.”

They stood there, the tension between them no longer sharp but still very much alive. Lila took a step back and gestured toward the couch. “Sit,” she said. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

Rowan obeyed, sinking into the cushions, posture stiff at first. Lila sat beside her, not touching, but close enough that Rowan could feel her warmth.

“Say it,” Lila said.

“Say what?”

“The thing you’ve been circling,” Lila replied. “The truth you keep swallowing.”

Rowan stared at the floor for a moment, then turned her head. “I want you,” she said. Simple. Clear. “And I don’t want to want you quietly.”

Lila’s breath hitched. 

“But I need to learn how to stand in that without hiding,” Rowan continued. “I’m not there yet. And I won’t pretend I am. What I can promise is that I’m done pretending you’re not worth the risk.”

Lila studied her for a long moment. “You know that might not be enough forever.”

“I know,” Rowan said. “But it’s honest. And I’m asking, not for you to wait indefinitely. Just… to let me prove I can meet you where you are.”

Lila leaned back against the couch, eyes closed briefly. When she opened them again, they were glossy but steady.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she said. “I want to be chosen without having to ask.”

“I want you to need me Rowan” She glances quickly and quickly tries to hide her tears. 

Rowan’s chest tightened. “Then let me choose you out loud.”

Lila turned toward her. “Say it again.”

“I choose you,” Rowan said. Her voice didn’t shake. “Even if I’m still figuring out how.”

That did it.

Lila exhaled sharply through her nose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her sleeve in one quick, impatient motion. The light caught the wet tracks left behind, proof she wasn’t as collected as she pretended to be. “Fuck,” she muttered, almost laughing, “you couldn’t have figured this out before I cried in front of you?”

Rowan didn’t answer with words. She reached out, slow enough that Lila could pull away, and brushed her thumb along the path tears had taken. The contact sent a current through both of them: electric, undeniable. Lila leaned into it before catching herself, her breath hitching audibly.

“Still scared?” Lila asked, voice barely above a whisper. She was watching Rowan’s face with the intensity of someone bracing for impact.

Rowan’s hand lingered before she let it drop. “Yes,” she admitted. “But not of you. Never of you.” The distinction mattered, and she saw the exact moment Lila understood it, the way her shoulders loosened, just slightly.

The air between them changed then, like someone had flipped a switch. Lila shifted closer, knees brushing Rowan’s, and suddenly all the words they’d been trading felt secondary. There was a new tension now, softer but no less urgent. Rowan’s pulse jumped when Lila’s fingers traced the edge of her sleeve testing, tentative, before curling around her wrist. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it anchored them both.