Closer to the Edge

If Paul were any more delirious, he probably would have let out a squeal of joy when he saw the rear end of the Delvecchio House. But he wasn’t, so no squeal fell past his slightly parted and fully-chapped lips as they paused at the edge of the woods.

“Okay, just rest here, Paul,” Rowan said, setting him against one of the trees with Martin’s help.

“What are you doing?” Martin asked.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, though not at his tone; the sarcastic and insolent tone that Martin had used for the majority of their time together had been abandoned about three miles previous, when Paul threatened to punch him if he said one more thing. Of course, Rowan couldn’t brag, because then Paul threatened her with the same thing. He had to be fair, she guessed, but still. “I’m going to let him rest while I go to my father,” Rowan told him. “I need to explain to him what’s going on.”

“How do we know you’re not going to lie?” Martin asked. And he wasn’t trying to be a prick, he really wasn’t; he just wanted to make sure that he had all of his bases covered.

“Martin,” Paul said with a sigh. “Just trust her, okay?”

Martin ran a hand over his face. “I can’t just trust her blindly, Paul. She has reason to want revenge.”

“I don’t want revenge,” Rowan said quietly.

“I’ll go with you,” Martin offered.

“No, you’re staying with Paul,” Rowan told him.

“I’ll be fine,” Paul said, with a pathetic wave of his hand; he was beginning to feel dizzy again.

Rowan shook her head. “No, Martin will stay with you.”

“I’ll go,” Ash said her voice soft. “I mean, if someone’s gonna go…your mom kind of already knows me. I mean, I don’t think she likes me but. Yeah.”

Rowan smiled softly. “Ash will go with me. You guys stay here. We’ll come out and get you when it’s clear, yeah?”

Martin sighed again, clearly displeased with the situation.

“That works,” Paul said, his eyes drifting shut. “We need some bro time anyway.’

“I’ll stay,” Martin said, albeit begrudgingly.

Rowan nodded and walked over to Paul, kneeling next to him. She pushed his bangs away from his forehead before pressing a soft kiss against his sweat-covered skin. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, yeah?”

“Don’t jump out of any windows,” Paul joked with a small smile on his face.

“I’ll try not to,” she promised, before standing up and looking back at Ash. “You ready?”

+

Rowan tried to keep her steps light as she walked towards the back door of her house. She loved the wide, double French doors that led into the kitchen, a place where she spent most of her time cooking with her mother when she was younger; the good years, before she knew what was expected of her. She kneeled down and dug out the small, silver key from underneath the mat, sliding it in, and pulling the door open quietly.

At first she was surprised; she didn’t hear the alarm that she thought would be set. Her nose scrunched on its own accord as she stepped into the house, Ash following quickly behind. She shut the door quietly behind her and glanced around the kitchen; the only light that was on was above the stove. She didn’t see anyone, she didn’t hear any movements, and that wasn’t really a surprise since it was only four-thirty in the morning.

Part of her didn’t want to wake up her father. But she knew she had to talk to him. She led Ash down the hallway and up the stairs; she went to turn to go to his bedroom and stopped. A light caught her eye, a small sliver underneath the door to his office. She glanced back at Ash, raising a finger to her lips, and mouthed for her to wait there. She walked over to his office, not bothering to knock, and she pushed the door open as quietly as she could.

Nicolo’s head whipped up instantly, his dark eyes widening as they landed on his daughter. “Rowan… Am I—“

“Hi, daddy,” Rowan whispered, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, my God,” Nicolo said quietly, standing up from his desk and crossing the room in four point five seconds to embrace his daughter in a hug. “Are you okay?” he asked, not failing to notice the cut on the side of her face or the multiple bruises on her arms.

“I’m fine, daddy,” Rowan said. “Can we sit?”

“Of course,” he told her, leading her to the chair across from his desk. Instead of sitting behind it like he normally would have done, he sat down in the chair right next to her.

It was an interesting change of pace, to say the least. Rowan was close with her father, though not in a typical way; to see him change from businessman to concerned father was, well, interesting. It had been years since Rowan and her father shared any sort of father-daughter moment aside from the business. But she wasn’t complaining. It was the comfort that she needed since the past forty-eight hours had been so…intense.

“Are you okay?”

Rowan nodded. “We need to talk, dad.”

“What happened, Rowan? You don’t just disappear for two days and come back with cryptic messages,” Nicolo said, his words harsh but his tone soft.

“I didn’t leave on my own,” she told him. “I was…taken.”

Nicolo’s eyes widened and he cursed. “I knew it!” He ran his hands over his face. “How did you—“

“Get out? That’s…part of the long story,” she told him. “I need to explain this to you without getting interrupted every four seconds, okay?”

Nicolo nodded and waved a hand to prompt her to continue.

“Before the party on Friday, I was getting ready. I had a new make-up girl, Ash, and I didn’t think anything of it, not like I should have. As it turns out, she was working for the DiGiovanni’s—“

“What?!”

Rowan frowned. “Don’t interrupt.”

Nicolo smiled and didn’t reply.

“So, her boyfriend and some other dude came into my room and took me. I was blindfolded and gagged, slapped a couple of times—though I might have deserved that—and I was held hostage until about eight hours ago,” she told him. “It turns out Anthony DiGiovanni manipulated his son into kidnapping me, without telling him why—“

“That bastard!” Nicolo exclaimed before he could stop himself. “After everything he’s done to our family—“

“Dad,” Rowan said softly. “His son is the one who got me out of there. Paul’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Paul? You’re on first-name basis with him now?”

Rowan sighed. “I didn’t even know who he was until last night. He went to his father and found out that he had been lied to. I never lied to him, dad. And because of that, he got me out of there.”

“What if he’s just manipulating you to get what he wants, Rowan? I taught you better than to just trust anyone—“

“I know, dad,” Rowan snapped. “I’m not a child. I trust Paul, okay?”

“You can’t just trust any boy that you think is attractive, Rowan.”

Rowan sighed. “It’s not because he’s—“ she shook her head. “He could’ve killed me, dad. He found out that was his father’s plans. If he really wanted to, he could’ve done it at any point. But he didn’t. Because he’s not a bad person. And last night, his father and a bunch of…ridiculous goonies broke into the penthouse and tried to kill me. He saved me, dad. He got me out of there and risked his own life for me. What does he have to gain from that?”

“To get back at his father? To manipulate your feelings for him so he can take you out when it’s easier for him?” Nicolo offered.

“I’ve thought of all of that, trust me,” Rowan told him. “And I know you taught me to follow my gut. And I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. Otherwise I…wouldn’t have brought him here,” she said quietly.

Nicolo frowned. “He’s here?”

“Outside, technically. He needs a doctor, dad. And his family can’t find out he’s here or they’ll probably attack us all. I need your help,” she told him.

He sighed. “I can’t help the DiGiovanni’s in any way. Not after all they’ve done.”

“Then help me help Paul,” she said quietly. “He hates his father. He doesn’t want anything to do with him. He wants to bring him down, just like you to. And think about it, dad, we have someone from the inside. He knows more about Anthony than you do. He can help you bring him down.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Rowan,” Nicolo told her. “You’re trying to use your daughter charm to manipulate me.”

Rowan laughed softly. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, dad. I’m trying to appeal to your business sense,” she told him.

“Same thing, when you use your little girl face, daughter,” Nicolo said. “And I know you know what I’m talking about. It’s the face you would use when you wanted a new book when you were younger.”

Rowan smiled. “Well, I learned my tactics from the best.”

Nicolo sighed. “I don’t trust him, Rowan.”

“Give him a chance, dad. I promise you he’s worth it.”

+

Paul could feel himself slipping out of consciousness, but he was brought back to reality when Martin kicked his foot. He jumped slightly and sent his best friend a glare. “What the fuck, man?” he asked. He briefly wondered if he sounded as pathetic as he felt.

“You gotta stay awake, bro,” Martin told him, sitting down next to him.

“I’m so tired,” Paul said, lifting his good arm to wipe at his eyes.

“Stay awake.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed as his head lulled to the side to meet Martin’s eyes. “Why do you hate Rowan so much?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate her, Poolie.”

“I think you do,” Paul decided, his voice soft. “But I don’t understand why. Is it because you think she’s going to break us up?”

Martin laughed. “No one can break up our bromance.”

“Then what is it?”

“You need to save your energy, Paul, until we can get you inside,” Martin told him.

“I’ll be fine,” Paul said, dismissively waving his left hand. It only took less than two seconds for the initial shock to set in as he let out a gasp; his wrist was definitely broken. His right hand reached out, gripping his left wrist tightly as if to ease the pain, but it didn’t help. “Fuck.”

Martin looked around, unable to find anything to support his friend’s wrist. He glanced down, noticing the edge of Paul’s shirt was ripped, and he shrugged; it was better than nothing. “Lift up your arms,” he told him. When Paul did so, he gripped the edge of the black cotton and pulled. It ripped easily and he found himself with half of Paul’s shirt in his hands in one long strip. “Fuck. How am I going to—“

“I have a knife in my left boot,” Paul told him, reading his mind.

Martin reached down and pulled out the thin blade, thanking himself for giving it to Paul before they left the penthouse. He slid the blade through the fabric and tied it around his best friend’s wrist, tucking it under at the end. It wasn’t the best bandage but at least it would give his wrist enough support until hopefully a doctor could look at it.

“Please give Rowan a chance, Martin,” Paul said, his eyes drifting shut again. “I like her.”

“I know you do,” Martin said quietly.

“She’s not going to betray us.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Is that why you don’t like her?”

Martin shrugged. “That’s why I’m weary of her.”

“Oh,” Paul said with a shrug.

“I just don’t want her taking advantage of you,” Martin told him.

Paul’s eyes opened and narrowed them at his friend. “She’s not taking advantage of me.”

“You like her, Paul. I don’t want her playing you, you know? I don’t want her manipulating your feelings because, let’s face it, you’re not subtle at all,” Martin said with a shrug.

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t sound so sure, Paul. Women are fickle creatures,” Martin said quietly, eyes drifting back to the house. He was starting to worry about Ash and he wasn’t sure why.

“I know.”

“They’re manipulative bitches,” he muttered bitterly.

Paul laughed. “I would love for you to say that to Ash.”

Martin caught himself smiling before he could stop himself. “Even Ash is. The difference is, I love her too much.”

“That and she would never manipulate you for evil.”

“Just for her own good,” Martin said, still smiling.

“That could be me and Rowan one day,” Paul said.

Martin shook his head. “You’re delirious.”

“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted, eyes drifting shut again.

“Don’t close your eyes, bro.”

But once more, Paul had drifted off into unconsciousness.