Dusk Snow Hides All Return (Rowan and Adrienne) novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21.

The next day, Adrienne went back to the cafe. He wasn’t there.

The manager said he’d quit.

Adrienne stood in the empty café, and for the first time in her life, she felt this deep, hollow powerlessness

Her money. Her power. Everything she’d once thought could do anything–all of it turned into a joke in front of him. Worthless. He didn’t want any of it. Wouldn’t even glance at it.

All she could do was keep playing stalker from a distance, watching his life.

Then one day, she saw him wiping down a table. His body suddenly swayed. His hand shot out and caught the edge of the table. He dropped his head and stayed like that, frozen, for a long time.

Her chest clenched. She was halfway out of her chair when he pulled himself upright. His face was whiter than paper. A thin film of cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. She rushed over in a few strides and caught him. “Rowan!”

He was burning up under her hand.

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He had a fever. A bad one.

Adrienne’s panic kicked in. Her other hand flew to his forehead. Scorching.

“You’re running a fever! I’m taking you to the hospital!”

Rowan tried to push her off, but there was no strength behind it. “Not your problem.”

“This time, you’re listening to me!” Adrienne snapped, sharper than she’d ever been with him.

She pulled him toward the door. On the way past the stunned/manager, she tossed out, “He quit.”

Then, ignoring his weak attempts to fight her, she shoved him into the car and floored it to the hospital.

The hospital smelled sharp and chemical. Antiseptic burning her nose.

After the doctor finished checking him, the guy’s frown was carved deep. “Fever at 39.5. Inflammation’s back. Infection on top of it. Malnutrition, anemia, mild pneumonia. He needs to be admitted. Now.”

Adrienne’s heart sank, inch by inch.

She handled all the paperwork and sat at his bedside, watching his pale, fragile face as he slept. She wished phe

apart.

Alone. How in the world had he gotten through all this alone?

When Rowan woke up, it was dark outside the window.

He blinked a couple of times, letting his eyes adjust, and then he saw Adrienne sitting there by the bed.

She looked wrecked too. Deep shadows under her eyes. She was staring at him, not blinking.

Their eyes

locked.

Rowan looked away first, up at the ceiling. His voice came out rough. “Leave.”

Adrienne’s eyes went red all over again. She grabbed his hand where it rested on top of the blanket. Ice cold.

could tear herself

She squeezed tight, trying to push her warmth into him. “I’m not leaving. Rowan. Hate me. Resent me. Whatever you want. I can’t sit here and watch you go through this alone anymore.”

“Whether I live or die-“Rowan tried to pull his hand back. She was holding on too tight. He gave up. His voice just got colder.

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has nothing to do with you.”

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“It has everything to do with me!” Adrienne stared at him, stubborn and fierce. Every word came out like she was pulling it up from the bottom of her soul. Rowan Ashford. For the rest of my life. Living or dying. It all has to do with you.”

Rowan closed his eyes, exhausted. Didn’t say anything else. Didn’t look at her.

Adrienne’s chest ached. All she could do was keep holding his hand, frozen there, not moving an inch.

What finally broke the stiffness in the room was Viena walking in

She was carrying a bright bunch of sunflowers. She pushed the door open, saw Adrienne, and stopped short.

Adrienne went into defense mode on instinct, like an animal protecting its territory. Her eyes cut to the woman in the doorway, sharp.

“You are…?” Viena’s brow creased slightly. Her eyes dropped to the way Adrienne was gripping Rowan’s hand.

drienne

“I’m his fiancée.” Adrienne stood up, blocking her view of Rowan. Her voice was flat and hard.

Viena actually smiled at that. A small smile. A little knowing. A little mocking. “His fiancée? Rowan told me he’s single. No girlfriend. Definitely no fiancée.”

Adrienne’s face darkened. She opened her mouth to snap

back-

From the bed, Rowan’s voice came out weak, but clear. “Viena. You’re here. Come in.”

Viena made a soft sound of agreement. She walked around the tightly–wound Adrienne, went to his bedside, slid the sunflowers into the vase on the nightstand, and asked in a soft voice, “Feeling any better? What did the doctor say?”

“Much better. Just a fever. Same old thing.” Rowan’s voice actually softened.

“Good. I brought you some soup. Try to eat a little.” Viena pulled out a thermal food container.

There was something easy and familiar flowing between the two of them. Adrienne was the complete outsider. Locked out.

She wanted to step in. Then Rowan spoke. This time, to her. “Out.”

His voice was flat. Not a single crack to push through.

Adrienne’s feet froze in the doorway. She watched Viena gently help Rowan sit up, carefully prop a pillow behind him, open the container, scoop up a spoonful of soup, blow on it softly, and hold it up to his mouth.

And Rowan didn’t turn it away.

Adrienne stood outside, back pressed against the cold wall. She listened to the low murmur of the conversation, to Viena’s quiet, warm laugh every now and then. Jealousy ripped through her like a wildfire, burning straight through whatever rational thought she had left. Threatening to swallow her whole.

And she didn’t even have the right to push the door back open and walk in.

Over the next few days in the hospital, Adrienne barely left his side.

She’d never taken care of anyone in her life. She fumbled through it, clumsy but dead serious.

She called home, had the family’s chef walk her through it over the phone. In the cramped little kitchen of her apartment, for the first time ever, she tried to make soup.

Not enough water. Too much salt. Splashed with hot oil, her hand blistered in four or five spots. What she finally set in front of Rowan was a bowl of ugly, questionable restorative broth.

Rowan glanced at it. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t touch it.

She quietly dumped it out. The next day, she tried again.

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When he coughed at night, she was awake instantly. She’d ease hitn upright, rub his back, hold water to his lips.

When the coughing fits got really bad, he’d curl in on himself, shoulders so thin it was painful to look at.

Adrienne would wrap her arms around him carefully, trying to soothe him in her clumsy way.

He never responded. Never pushed her off either. Just a rag doll with no soul.

Chapter 22

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Chapter 22.