Rowan Revived

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Rowan Revived Page 5

by Colbert, Taylor Danae


  She throws a towel up over her shoulder and puts her hands on her hips as she gives me those sad eyes.

  “I know you do,” I say, lifting the last crate of glasses up under the counter, getting ready for the rush. “But you don’t need to. Soon enough, I’ll get that place sold, and I’ll be somewhere, sipping some fruity-ass drink on a beach without a care in the world.”

  That’s my plan, or lack thereof. Take what’s left of my inheritance, the money I save from working here, and whatever I can get from the inn, and take off. Somewhere blue and sandy and warm, with no memories of my parents to haunt me. No reminders of what I couldn’t do for them. I flash Berta a smile, but she doesn’t return it. Her eyes drop, and I can see the sadness in them instantly.

  “We will miss you around here, Jess. This whole town will,” she says. Just then, like clockwork, the stampede of locals storms through the doors. And I’m glad, because I don’t really want to keep having this conversation. The truth is, I don’t know what I’ll do when I leave. I don’t know who I am without Baycrest. But one thing I do know is that I don’t like who I’ve become. It’s time to go.

  I’m back behind the bar, pouring drinks, listening to Rob’s crummy band playing the same shit he’s been playing here for fifteen years. But the people of Baycrest are loyal. They keep comin’ back.

  I turn around to make a couple of tequila shots, when I hear her.

  “How about one of those for me, handsome?” she asks. Normally, I’d be spinning around so quickly, I’d almost break the rest of the glasses on the counter. I’d let Berta know I needed five, I’d wipe off my hands, scoot out the side of the bar, take her hand, and follow her out back.

  This time, though, something’s a little different. I take in a long breath, then turn to her slowly.

  “Hey, Amber,” I say. She flips her long blonde hair over one shoulder, her hot pink halter top cut low enough that it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Lucky for me, I don’t really have to imagine it. I’ve seen the real deal, plenty of times.

  She smiles, and her brown eyes light up under the neon bar lights.

  “Hey, yourself,” she says. “Got a few minutes?” She raises her eyebrows, and I know that’s my cue.

  Amber Cole. She was a few years behind me in school, and had a crush on me all through the years. We were in similar boats for a while, Amber and me. A lot of our friends took off after we graduated, but we stayed. And we found each other. We’ve been finding each other behind the bar, at her place, at mine, in my truck…well, all over Baycrest for the last few years. I would never go so far as to say we were dating...there wasn’t much more to Amber and me than sex, and the occasional inappropriate text message.

  Sometimes we’d meet some other friends for food, but I always found myself spending most of the meal talking to everyone else around the table. There’s no substance with Amber. And I’ve always known it. And I’ve always been honest about it. Amber holds on, though. She thinks somehow, sometime, some way, the tides will change. I know they won’t.

  But looking at her now, I just don’t know how I can say no. And I don’t really know why I want to. I let Berta know I’m taking a breather, chuck my towel down on the counter, and follow her outside. Before I get a word in, she’s on me like bees on honey.

  She pushes me up against the side of the building, kissing my neck, nipping at my ear. It gives me a little chill, but for whatever reason, that’s it.

  Usually, I’m ready for action in half-a-second with Amber. It takes all of one minute, the sensation of her tongue on my skin, the slight tug as she undoes my belt. Now, I kiss her back, but only for a minute. But I’m just not into it tonight. She carries on for another minute or two, and then she pulls away, slowly.

  “What’s the deal?” she asks. I shrug and sigh. She raises an eyebrow, but when she realizes I won’t be doing any raising of my own, she steps back. I clear my throat and re-buckle my pants.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just not in my right mind,” I say. “Got a lot goin’ on.”

  “Well, that’s okay. Maybe later,” she says with a casual shrug. There’s no denying the disappointment in her eyes. She straightens out her top and smiles at me, then glides back into the bar. I watch her go, and I know that me and Amber, whatever we are, it’s coming to an end. And as much as I want to deny it, I know exactly why. It’s because ever since I got cussed out by the girl with the coal-colored hair, I don’t have any interest in getting off with any other woman. And it’s annoying as all hell.

  As I’m walking back behind the bar, I freeze when I see my phone light up with a text. It’s from Rodney. And suddenly my heart’s pounding a mile a minute.

  6

  Lena

  It’s early Monday morning, and even though we’ve been here for a few days, I’m still not quite used to how bright the sun is when it reflects off the Chesapeake. It’s streaming through our windows, and before I know it, I’m wide awake. Millie and Caleb are snuggled up on the other side of the bed, curled up tight under the big, white, down comforter that Josie brought us. She also brought us a cot for Caleb, but so far, he’s lasted exactly zero nights in it before crawling back into bed with us.

  I get dressed and sneak downstairs. It’s clear the second I reach the first floor that Josie has gone back to D.C.; there’s no smell of fresh coffee wafting through the kitchen, and there’s no three-course breakfast waiting for us.

  There is, however, a pitcher of lemonade, and a box of waffles in the freezer. I guess he’s trying, at least. Or maybe he’s just so scared of his big sister that he decided it was worth making some sort of effort. Either way, it makes me smile.

  As I sift through the other food in the fridge, I hear a car door slam outside. I curiously step over to one of the huge windows, sipping my room-temperature lemonade out of a mug. Jesse is climbing into the cab of his truck, lifting out two brand-new rocking chairs. He carries one in each arm—making it look way too easy—to the porch, and situates them extra close to each other. Then, he all but runs back to his truck, dragging the old, decrepit ones behind him. He closes the back of the cab, and pulls it off to the side of the house. He gets out and rushes to the barn. He goes inside, and returns moments later with a giant broom. He starts sweeping the steps, the porch—I swear he’s moments away from sweeping the gravel driveway.

  Then he goes back to the barn again, and returns with a tool box. He grabs his hammer and starts wailing away at random nails around the porch. After a few minutes of that ruckus—which I cannot believe my nephew slept through—I see Jesse making his way toward the front door, and I quickly tuck myself back into the living room. I grab a seat on one of the big blue couches, making it look like I’ve been casually sitting for a while. He almost doesn’t see me, but stumbles in place when he finally does.

  “Oh, uh, mornin’,” he says.

  “Morning,” I say, taking another sip.

  “There’s waffles,” he says, motioning to the fridge.

  “I saw, thank you,” I say. He pauses for a moment before heading back to the kitchen. I hear a few cabinets open and close, then he’s back with a bottle of window cleaner and an old rag. He starts going to town on the windows, and I cringe at the streaks he’s leaving.

  “Is Monday cleaning day,” I say, “or are you expecting someone?”

  He doesn’t stop his horrible swirling of the rag. He moves from one massive window to the other, twirling the rag in horrific circles all over the place.

  “Someone’s coming to look at the inn,” he says.

  “Someone?” My first thought is he’s expecting someone, a girl maybe. Someone he doesn’t want the inn to look like a total disaster. But then I remember it’s barely past six in the morning, and he’s moving awfully swiftly.

  “Yeah. Someone who’s interested in buying it. My realtor texted me last night,” he says. He finishes—at least to his standards—and scurries back to the kitchen to put the cleaner away. He rushes past me again, bursting out
the front door and heading for the barn. As he walks, he swiftly unbuttons his shirt, letting the flannel slide off his thick muscles as he disappears inside the big doors. I feel heat rising in my cheeks as I force myself to look away.

  I hate that he’s attractive. I hate that he’s really, really good-looking, in that gruff, stubbled kind of way. He’s big and broad and strong. And he’s also an ass. But knowing that he’s under a bit of stress does something to me—it makes me want to help.

  I set my mug in the dishwasher, then grab the window cleaner from under the sink. I turn back to the windows, and get to work at recleaning what he’s already “cleaned.”

  In a few moments, he’s back at the front door, just as I’m finishing the last window, leaving it perfectly streak-free.

  “Oh, I, uh, just wanted to help,” I say, tucking the cleaner and rag behind my back. He takes a quick look at the windows.

  “Thanks,” he says with a nod. He walks past me and out the door.

  I follow him outside, and start rearranging the new chairs.

  “Do you need help with anything else?” I ask him. He stops plucking weeds from the front bed and turns to me.

  “Ah, actually, I think that about covers it. It’s an as-is deal; I was just trying to give the place a little more umph before he gets here.”

  I nod and turn back to the inn. It’s almost like looking at someone you love, a grandparent, maybe, as they age. Watching them slowly turn into a less vibrant version of their old self.

  It’s clear there was once a lot of life in this old house. It’s just slowly fading away.

  “When is he supposed to be here?” I ask. Jesse brushes one hand through his sandy locks, and holds up his phone the other.

  “Ten minutes,” he says, a nervous shake in his voice.

  “Okay. I’m going to go wake Millie and Caleb, and we will get out of your hair for a few hours,” I say. I swallow as I make my way into the house.

  I know we’ve only been here for a few days, but right now, this old house is the only thing that emulates anything close to “home” for us. And I’m basically helping throw it away. Not that I have a choice. I know we can find another place by the time settlement comes around, but I...I’m getting ahead of myself. Besides, it’s not like we intended to stay at the Rowan for long. Eventually, we won’t be able to afford it. Single-night rates or not.

  I get Millie and Caleb up and rolling, and in a flash, we’re downstairs and loading into my car. Jesse’s standing on the front porch, and as I’m about to duck into the driver’s seat, our eyes catch each other. I give him a quick “good luck” nod, and he nods back.

  We take Caleb to get some breakfast at a little diner on the highway. He’s coloring away on his kids’ menu while we’re flipping through ours. My eyes wander out the window, and I can’t help but wonder how the potential sale is going.

  “So, any ideas where we should go next?” Millie asks, as if she’s reading my mind.

  “I haven’t looked much yet. I was going to ask Jesse if he had any recommendations nearby,” I say. Sometimes I’m amazed at my ability to spitball, to totally pull an answer out of my ass to avoid causing others anxiety. In our family, I’m always the one with the answers. Despite my internal panic, I’m quick with a comforting smile and a nonchalant wave.

  “Good idea,” Millie says. Her eyes drop to Caleb, and when she sees that he’s still coloring, she turns back to me. “He called again last night, late.”

  I drop my menu.

  “Why did you turn your phone on?” I ask. I was quick to monitor both of our phones when we left Boston, but I’m still paranoid. And with Tiger, there’s no such thing as being too safe.

  “I just...I don’t know I just wanted to see if he was looking for us, I guess,” she says.

  I glare at her.

  “Millie, why?” I ask.

  “It’s not because I want him to,” she says, placing her hand on me to reassure me. “Honest. I don’t. Not this time. Not when he...” her voice trails off as she looks down at Caleb, brushing his hair back. I remember her, just a few days ago, sitting in his bedroom. Knowing that Tiger had chased them in there, knowing that he got closer than ever before to hurting my favorite little human. A chill goes down my spine. “Not this time.”

  “Then, why?” I ask.

  “Because. I guess I just wanted to see how much time we have before he starts moving. Starts using his dad’s tools and money to find us,” she says.

  I nod and take a big swig of my coffee.

  The Bentleys own a few restaurants in the city, and word is, they traffic a lot more than just food. Tiger’s dad has connections all over the country, and I don’t mean like free tickets to a game, connections. I mean like, give-me-a-name-and-I’ll-give-you-a-body connections.

  I take another sip of my coffee as the panic starts to settle right on my chest.

  I had thought plenty about avoiding Tiger, but I didn’t think through avoiding his rich father. I just knew we needed to get out, so we did.

  “You turned it off again, right?” I asked. She nods. I can tell by the look on her face, she’s feeding off my anxiety. I smile at her and grab a crayon off the table.

  “I’m X’s, you’re O’s,” I tell Caleb, drawing a Tic-Tac-Toe board on the piece of paper. I look back up to Millie. “We’re gonna be fine.”

  We head back to the inn a little bit later. As soon as I park, Caleb is running through the grass, chasing, and being chased by Coby. I smile as I watch them run—Caleb’s never had this much room to himself in his entire life. To be honest, neither have Millie or I. For a brief moment, Caleb stops running, turning back to us.

  “I love it here, Mommy. I wish we could always live here,” he says, then turns back to run after the dog. Panic washes over me once again as I realize that this might be coming to an end.

  “Don’t go near the water!” I hear Millie call as she follows them around the back of the house.

  I look around. There are no other cars in the driveway. Jesse’s red truck is still parked off to the side. I look around, but he doesn’t seem to be outside anywhere. Just as I’m about to walk up the porch steps, I hear the barn doors slide open. He’s stomping out, dragging behind him a wheelbarrow full of bricks.

  “Hey,” I say, but he just walks on by me, dumping them in the dirt behind his truck.

  “Humph,” he musters up, before wheeling back into the barn. I follow him inside, but before I can speak, I lose myself inside the barn for a moment. This was the restaurant, before everything shut down. There are still a few tables set up, and the counter at the back of the room is still shiny and silver, despite the dust everywhere. I can tell the dining area had a rustic theme—rod-iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and artificial sunflowers sit in jars on a few of the tables. At the back corner of the room stands the long staircase that leads to what I guess is Jesse’s room, and he is currently stomping up the steps. I follow him up, my curiosity getting the best of me. There’s one door at the top of the stairs, and when he opens it, I see the most boring bedroom I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing but one dresser, and an unmade bed. Funny that I didn’t notice this the other day; the almost-naked man standing in it at that moment must have distracted me.

  “So is this your room?” I ask, startling him. He whips around.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asks.

  “I just wanted to check, see how it went with the buyer.”

  “There is no buyer,” he says, his gruff voice seeming even more gruff right now. “He said the work that needed to go into it wasn’t worth the aggravation of the sale.”

  He digs through one of his drawers, then he turns back toward the stairs, stomping again.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, following him down. He actually lets out a laugh before turning back to me.

  “Don’t you worry, looks like your little vacation doesn’t have to end anytime soon. So by all means, continue making yourself right at home,” he says, his voi
ce oozing with sarcasm.

  A second ago, I felt bad for him. Now, I’m holding myself back from kicking him down the rest of the stairs.

  I have a lot of four-letter words I’d like to shout at him right now. Several not-so-nice names stand on the tip of my tongue, ready to be fired off in his direction. But as I watch him bluster across the barn floor and out the big doors, nothing comes to me. Nothing but just the tiniest bit of relief that our little sanctuary can remain just that a little while longer. Jesse has no idea just how important this little “vacation” really is.

  We avoid Jesse for dinner—or, rather, he avoids us, since he’s not even home. After eating, we take Caleb outside to swing a little bit more, then settle him into bed. Millie and I curl up on one of the wicker benches on the back patio, letting the cool summer breeze blow through our locks. The only difference is that mine sit straight down my back, while hers are naturally shaped into beautiful curls, something I’ve always been jealous of.

  “It really is beautiful here,” she says after a few minutes. I look out over the water. The bay is so blue, even in the disappearing sunlight. The sky has a twinge of orange in it, and the cattails are all bowing in the wind. A few boats skate across the water way out in the distance, so small they look like toys.

  “It is,” I say.

  “I know Caleb will be devastated when we leave,” she says. “And to be honest, I will too.”

  I look down at the ground. Despite the infuriating company here, I will be too.

  Jesse’s words echo in my head.

  The work that needed to go into it wasn’t worth the aggravation of the sale.

  Suddenly, my survival instincts kick in, and my creative juices are flowing.

  I don’t want to go. Neither do Millie and Caleb.

  We’re safe here, at least for now, and their safety just isn’t something I’m willing to give up on.

 

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