He seemed focused on being mighty pissed off at me.

The feeling was mutual. My fury burned bright enough to momentarily distract me from the niggling pain in my stomach. This was not the longest one of my imagined maladies had stuck around, not by a long shot. My mind was a powerful thing.

“What the fuck, Nora?” he repeated, hands biting into my waist.

I’d seen Rowan angry. Scary angry. But that anger had always been directed at other people, not at me. And it was pretty darn intimidating to have it solely focused on me.

I almost wanted to shrink down. Submit.

Almost.

Instead, I thought of the woman at the door, the familiar way she’d spoken Rowan’s name.

I jutted my chin upward. “I’ve got scones to finish,” I replied coldly, not looking in his eye.

“I don’t give a fuck about scones,” he clipped out. “I give a fuck about having to deal with my best friend drunk as all fuck because that’s how he deals with the demons nipping at his heels. Had to see him realize no booze in the world will chase them away.” Something mingled with the fury in Rowan’s tone. Something softer.

Concern. Emotion. For Kip.

There was a story there I didn’t know. The Kip I knew was easygoing, jovial and definitely not a man who seemed haunted by demons.

But if I had learned anything about these men, it was that they were not at all what they seemed.

Though I did care about Kip, and it did hurt my heart to know there was something painful he was running from, it wasn’t what mattered in that moment.

“I give a fuck about dealing with all that, expecting to come home to my woman, warm in my bed, only to find my bed empty, my woman nowhere to be found, and a fucking note telling me she was done with us,” Rowan continued, still seething.

Fear prickled at the back of my neck, his fury coating me like oil.

The note was cowardly, I’d give him that. Especially when I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t just going to accept the note, that he’d end up right here, and I’d have to face him anyway.

“I figured your bed wouldn’t stay cold for long,” I spat back, glaring at him.

Surprise punctured his anger. “What are you talking about?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m talking about Kaitlyn.” I hated the way her name sounded, hated that I was resenting another woman who did nothing wrong.

“Kaitlyn?” he echoed, looking confused.

My eyes stung with the tears he didn’t deserve, the tears I didn’t want him to see rolling down my cheeks. I turned, twisting myself from his grip and turning my attention to the dough.

“She came to visit not long after you left to get Kip,” I clarified, still fighting back tears. “I’m guessing you got your wires crossed because she didn’t know you weren’t home, and she certainly wasn’t expecting me.” I tried to keep the bite to my tone, but it faltered a little at the end.