Until We Met Again ( Rowan and Johnson )
Chapter 60

Chapter 60 

To anyone passing by, she could have mistaken for a mob boss with the way she commanded the room with steely eyes and a stance that brooked no challenge. 

Joseph and his cronies, still sporting bruises from their last encounter with Karla, were wise enough not to stir the pot. They ordered a few plates of comfort food. But they barely touched their grub before they skedaddled, looking like they’d been through the wringer. 

“Anything else?” 

Rowan couldn’t believe Karla would keep secrets from him. Teddy had tried to play dumb, but the jig was up, and he spilled the beans. “One of Joseph’s lackeys, the chubby one, he’s picked your lock before.” With that simple sentence, everything clicked into place for Rowan. Karla had been dragged into his mess. Back at the St. Rose’s Street apartment, Karla stood by the window, watching as Landon climbed into a sleek black sedan. She only turned away when it disappeared from view. 

Glancing at the ashtray–cum–water–cup stuffed with cigarette butts, she crinkled her nose and decided to air out the place. The ashtray and its contents were promptly chucked into the bin downstairs. Despite her efforts, Karla worried the lingering scent of tobacco would still be detectable when Rowan got home. As this thought crossed her mind, she heard the telltale screech of a bike brake. Rowan was back. 

Karla had made up her mind. If Rowan noticed, she’d tell him straight up about Landon’s visit. So, she sat down, mentally preparing for his entrance. 

However, after a lengthy wait, the door she’d left ajar remained untouched. Confused, she went to investigate, descending the stairs only to find him at the second–floor landing. 

Just s she was about to ask why he was idling there, her face drained of color as she pieced together the 

je dashed towards him. 

wan was clumped against the wall, one hand clutching his head, his brow furrowed in pain, his completion gnostly pale, sweat beading on his forehead as if he’d just been pulled from icy waters. His breathing was rapid, and his pale lips were bitten until they bled. 

Although Karla knew that Rowan suffered from headache, seeing Rowan experiencing it for the first time, she was taken aback by how severe it was. 

“Rowan! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” 

She helped him up, but he was limp as a ragdoll, his entire weight bearing down on her. 

His breaths were heavy, his head resting on her shoulder, so close she could feel his warm breath tickling her ear–a sensation that made her knees buckle, considering her extreme ticklishness. In a moment of weakness, she lost her balance, and they both tumbled to the floor. 

The narrow stairwell left them cramped and gasping for air. With Herculean effort, Karla righted them both. She tried to talk some sense into him, “Rowan, please don’t breathe in my ear, I’m ticklish. Just lower your head, and I’ll get you back to your room, okay?” 

Somehow, he complied, and Karla managed to guide him upstairs, into his room. She frantically searched the drawers while asking, “Where’s your migraine medication? Is it in here?” 

20-56 

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aware eat was atting He tenched as teeth aginat the pen, He ision blurred. He alosed nearne and the darkness. Wal OC 號 紉 he fore dietified 

Whows he dierrors waters The wetties errat  Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

*Core on, conse off Heat some water Whath The taison too 

*Great tirang Seriously, this is the last thing I need 

As pain enveloped Rowan, it was Karla’s flustered voice that brought a sense of solace, and without realizing it he dofhed into a routied aloey. sleep. 

Years later, Rowan would struggle to recall the details of that day, but two things stood out 

For one, Karla developed a habit of boiling water each night to fill the kettle. 

And secondly, Rowan would never forget the sensitivity of Karla’s ears, that she was ticklish. 

Chapter 60 

“Mmm…” he responded weakly. 

She found the pills in the second drawer and hurried to the kitchen for water. 

Rowan’s head was splitting. He clenched his teeth against the pain, his vision blurred. He closed his eyes, and in the darkness, Karla’s voice was all the more distinct. 

“Where’s the damn water? The kettle’s empty?” 

“Come on, come on! Heat some water. What? The tap’s out too?” 

“Great timing. Seriously, this is the last thing I need.” 

As pain enveloped Rowan, it was Karla’s flustered voice that brought a sense of solace, and without realizing it, he drifted into a troubled sleep. 

Years later, Rowan would struggle to recall the details of that day, but two things stood out. 

For one, Karla developed a habit of boiling water each night to fill the kettle. 

And secondly, Rowan would never forget the sensitivity of Karla’s ears, that she was ticklish. 

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