Rowan Revived

by Colbert, Taylor Danae

  “What if...” I say, gathering my wild thoughts. “What if we don’t leave?”

  “What?” she asks, giving me a concerned look. “You mean like, squat?”

  I snort.

  “No, ya dork,” I say. “What if we help him fix the place up some? It would buy us some time to stay here until we figure out a solid next move, and it would help him get the house in better selling shape.”

  Her eyes grow wide with a mix of possibility and concern.

  “I mean, I guess it could work?” she says.

  “Maybe we can work out a deal. We stay for free as long as we help him,” I say. She nods. “Although, I imagine if we’re staying for free, he won’t necessarily be too keen on feeding us every day. Even if it is just lemonade and waffles.”

  The wheels in my mind are spinning into overdrive. We still need money. We’ve been frugal, living off of snacks and mostly fast-food, but my savings and the money from Mrs. Hinders are going to run out eventually. Probably sooner rather than later.

  “I could get a job,” Millie says. I look up at her. She hasn’t worked since she was a teenager. After she had Caleb, Tiger forbade her to work. Just one more way he alienated her from the world, leaving her clinging to him for anything she might need.

  “Mill, you don’t—”

  “No, Lena. If this works, if you can get him to agree to this, I’ll get a job. As long as you don’t mind keeping an eye on Caleb while you’re working around here, I’d be happy to get one. I haven’t had my own money in a long time. It will be a nice change of pace,” she says. “I mean it. You’re always taking care of things. Let me do this.”

  I smile, nod, and squeeze her hand.

  “Okay,” I say. “First thing tomorrow, I have to charm Mr. Uncharming.”

  Millie laughs as she puts a hand on my knee.

  “Say what you want,” she says as she pushes herself up from the bench, “but you’re not exactly stealth in the way you basically drool over him every time he walks away.” My jaw drops.

  “I do not! That is bullshit. That guy is a complete asshole,” I say, crossing my arms like an angry child. She smiles.

  “That may be so, but it doesn’t make him any less good-looking. And he might be an ass to you, but your nephew sure has taken a liking to him. I think it might be mutual,” she says.

  “No way. He’d have to have a heart to like a kid,” I say.

  “Well, you better hope he has something left of a heart, if you want this plan to work.”

  7

  Jesse

  I roll out of bed the next morning—early—and head downstairs to move more of the leftover bricks out from the back of the barn. My parents had planned to build this big, beautiful patio on the side of the barn, but it never happened before the accident. I can’t bring myself to do it now.

  I’m an early riser—growing up in this place did that to me. My parents were always up by 5:30 a.m. to make sure everything was ready for the guests. Comes with the territory, I guess. If only I could grow out of it, since there’s not so much to tend to these days.

  But almost every single day so far, that girl’s been up at the same time as me. And each time I catch a look at her through her window, I wonder what gets her up so early.

  Just as I’m loading up the last bit of bricks into the wheelbarrow, I hear creaking wood—it’s her, leaning against the barn doors. I smell coffee instantly, and it sets my insides on fire.

  “Morning,” she says. “I brought you a cup.”

  She’s holding one of the mugs out to me. I hesitate, then set the barrow down and take one out of her hands.

  “Thanks,” I say. She nods.

  “Lemonade just wasn’t doing the trick for me,” she says with a sly smile. I crack a fast smile, but it disappears into my mug.

  I can’t make out what she’s thinking as we stand here in silence, sipping our coffee. I’m desperately trying not to look at her. Her hair is wavier this morning, like she must have slept with it wet or something, and it’s flowing down, directing my eyes straight to her chest. These little white strings are hanging from the hem of her jean shorts, and her tank top is tight to her body. She’s got an arm crossed over her ribs, I think to keep herself warm in the chilly morning air, but all it’s really doing it displaying her...assets. And it’s killing me.

  But as hard as I’m trying not to look at her, I can feel her icy blue eyes piercing through me. She hasn’t stopped looking at me since she stepped foot inside the barn.

  She clears her throat and shifts her hair over one shoulder. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she might be a little bit nervous. But why?

  “Do you ever sleep?” she finally asks.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I say, setting my mug down on the bar and lifting the barrow up again, pedaling it out the doors.

  “Eh. I don’t sleep much when I have things to figure out,” she says. It feels like a bait—she wants me to ask what she’s trying to figure out. But I won’t. I don’t have time for these games.

  I move back into the barn and start straightening up the tables and chairs that have all been pushed there.

  “What are you doing with all of these?” she asks.

  “Movin’ ‘em,” I say. I know I’m not the most talkative guy, but there’s something about this girl that makes me never want to talk. If I’m being honest, it’s because I’m a little afraid she might get too much out of me. I’ve never wanted to avoid someone but also see them naked so much in my life, and it’s making me nuts.

  “I see that. Why?” she asks.

  “Rodney says it might help to show off the square footage some. So I’m movin’ em,” I tell her. She nods. She clears her throat again, and lets out a long breath. Here we go—whatever she’s been dying to bring up these last few minutes is coming out.

  “So, um, I was talking to my sister last night, about our...situation. And yours,” she says. I glance over at her, but quickly divert it back to the barrow. Where is she going with this? “And...I sorta had a thought.”

  Aw, shit. What kind of thought?

  I don’t say anything, I don’t ask...I just keep moving. Can’t let her know that I’m all kinds of curious.

  “For the love of God, can you just pause, for like, a second?” she asks. Her tone makes me freeze for a minute. God, there’s something so damn sexy about how direct she is. It’s annoying as all hell, but also really freakin’ hot. I put the last chair down, and turn to her slowly.

  “Yes?” I ask impatiently, feeling the tension growing in my jeans.

  “So. You need a buyer,” she says. I raise an eyebrow. Where is she going with this? “And in the best case scenario, it would be a buyer that would offer you something that will actually leave you with some sort of profit.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, and if I’m not mistaken, she glances up, her eyes scanning my chest and shoulder before finding mine again.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize I wanted to make a profit,” I say sarcastically. She ignores it and moves on.

  “So, what if we...I...could help get it into selling shape?”

  I rest back on my hip, pulling my arms even tighter across my chest, secretly trying to entice her to look. There’s gotta be some sort of ulterior motive to this.

  “Ha,” I say. “And what does this have to do with you?” She swallows, and for a moment, I feel bad for asking. I don’t know what the deal is with these three yet, and I have a feeling that this plan of hers has a lot to do with it.

  “Well,” she says, her voice getting a little shaky, “my sister, and Caleb and I...we need a place to stay.”

  I lean back on my hip again. What are they running from?

  “So, what if...what if we worked out a deal where I help do the work around here, and you let us stay?”

  “What?” I ask, a bit baffled.

  “Hear me out. If you let us stay here, with no fee, I could fix it up. I can help with whatever you need. I was thinking maybe
we set a timeline, like, maybe...three months or so?”

  This actually makes me chuckle, and she looks surprised. Probably because I haven’t given her more than a fast smirk the whole time she’s been here. This chick must be crazy. She clearly doesn’t realize how fast I plan on running from Baycrest...if I could just find some sucker stupid enough to buy this shithole.

  “Three months? I want to be on an island somewhere floating around in three months. Not stuck here with this godforsaken piece of shit inn on this stupid inlet. Three months,” I say, shaking my head as I turn back to the table. But there’s a part of me that feels this pull, this small tug, toward her. Toward her sister. Toward the kid. Why do they need a place to stay so badly?

  “Well, it sure took you longer than three months to tear this place apart like you did, so I don’t know how the fuck you think you’re gonna sell it the way it stands now. Or barely stands, for that matter,” she says. I whip my head around to her, and she’s standing there, arms crossed again, giving her chest yet another perfect boost. And as the breeze blows her hair back, and I see more of her skin, I forget for just a minute that she’s one of the more infuriating humans I’ve ever been in contact with.

  And probably the most annoying thing about her is that Josie likes her. Which means my mom would, too. She’s got that same sort of unstoppable attitude my mother had. And she will never know it, but it’s actually a little intimidating.

  I don’t know quite how to respond, but lucky for me, she keeps going.

  “If you want to be living it up somewhere else, you’re going to have to put some work into it. If you don’t, you won’t even get half of what it could be worth. Or, you might not even sell it at all.”

  My eyes move slowly across the floor, as I actually start to hear what she’s saying. If I think I’m going to be in the sea somewhere, drinking from a coconut in a few months’ time, with this place looking like it does...I have another thing coming. Shit. She’s right. And that’s so damn annoying.

  “Look, I think this place could be a freakin’ gem,” she says, catching my eye, “again. This place could be as amazing as it once was. If you want it to be. If not, we can still fix it up enough to where you can get what you deserve from it. What your parents would deserve.”

  That catches my attention.

  “And what exactly would you be helping with?” I ask. I see this light in her eyes, like she’s realizing that she’s got me tracking her bait. But I keep playing along. I really am genuinely curious to see where this goes.

  “Anything. I’m not afraid of physical work. I’m pretty handy. But I can also help with things like interior decor, cleaning, cooking, occasionally wiping down the counters…” she says with a slight smile, a dig at my housekeeping skills.

  “Three months, huh?” I ask. Three months isn’t that long. And I really could use the help. Maybe some feminine direction, like how mom used to run the place. The only downside—for a few reasons—is having to be near her for the next three months. But I think I can deal.

  “Three months. Then you can put it up, and watch the buyers flock,” she says.

  I reach a hand up and scratch my stubble.

  “And what about you guys? What will you do in three months?” I ask. She pauses, that nervous look returning to her face. I’m asking like I want to make sure they will really be out of my hair. But I’ll admit, there’s a small piece of me that just wants to make sure they will be okay, wherever they end up.

  “I’ll have it figured out by then,” she says. I look at her, letting my eyes travel down her whole body before I flick them back up to her. She shifts in her shoes, but she doesn’t take her eyes from mine.

  “Alright,” I finally say. “Three months. You guys and the kid can stay.”

  Instantly, I watch her shoulders drop, as if some huge weight has lifted from them. And I really want to fucking know what that weight is. But I can’t get too caught up in this. I don’t need this. I just need to fix this place up, sell it, and get the hell out. A shy smile forms over her round lips.

  “Thank you. You won’t be disappointed,” she says, turning to make her way out of the barn.

  As she’s walking away, and my eyes are betraying me and trailing her every step, I think of something pretty damn important.

  My shifts at the Shell won’t exactly cover three extra people. And I need to save that money for whenever I go, wherever I end up next.

  “I can’t support you guys, though,” I call out after her. “You’ll have to deal with your own food.”

  She holds her hands up.

  “Oh, absolutely not. My sister will get a job somewhere in town, as long as you don’t mind Caleb hanging with us while she’s there.” I nod quickly, suddenly feeling a little sheepish for even mentioning it. I don’t know her all that well, but I do know that she’s not the expectant type. And it’s pretty clear that she takes care of herself...and the other two. But why? As she turns to walk away, my curiosity gets the best of me.

  “Why do you guys need a place to stay?” I ask. She freezes. She turns back to me slowly, taking in a long, slow breath.

  “Let’s just say that my sister and I didn’t have a quiet upbringing on the bay,” she says with a fast smile that never touches her eyes. “And I don’t want Caleb having the same sort of upbringing. That’s why we’re here. And that’s why we can’t go back to Boston. Not right now, anyway.”

  I take a step back, nodding. I remember how badly Millie’s face was bruised when they got here, but I was a bit of a selfish ass—too consumed in my own shit to really ask, or to even give a shit. It’s healing up nicely, but there’s still a small scar over one of her eyes.

  “So, the kid’s dad?” I ask. She nods. I nod back, looking down to kick a pebble on the ground. Then I look up at her again. “Three months,” I say.

  “Three months,” she says.

  8

  Lena

  It rains a bit in the morning, and Caleb’s getting restless. He and Millie are playing a board game that we found in one of the hall closets when I get up to make us some sandwiches. Ever since I told Millie the news, she seems lighter, relaxed. Which makes me feel lighter, relaxed.

  Just then, Jesse makes his way through the front door, covered in mud and soaking wet.

  “Were you working outside?” I ask him.

  “Naw, I just sweat a lot,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I look him up and down. His shirt is clinging to his muscles again, and Jesus, it’s hard to look away.

  “Well, if you want to go change, I’m making sandwiches. You want one?” I ask. He dries his hair with a hand towel from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, eat with us!” Caleb cries.

  “Alright,” he says. He stomps down the basement steps to where the laundry is, and I feel a pinch on my side.

  “Having ourselves a little lunch date, are we?” Millie asks. I swat her hand away.

  “Stop it. We need him to like us,” I say.

  “No, we don’t. We just need him to let us stay. You just want him to like you. Which is so unlike you, I must say,” Millie says, leaning against the counter and snatching up a baby carrot from a plate in front of me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you have literally never been one to give a shit about what anyone thinks of you. Especially a guy,” she says, way too nonchalantly.

  “Well, I still don’t. I just want him to be happy enough with us to let us stay,” I retort. Millie smirks as she snatches another carrot. “What?” I ask.

  “You want him to like you,” she says, as she ruffles Caleb’s hair and sits down next to him. I want to argue—I always have the last word, and this is no different. She’s not right. I don’t need or want Jesse to like me. I just...don’t want him to not like me. Ugh, okay, fine. Maybe I do want him to like me. But no other human needs to know that. And just as I’m about to point out all the reasons why I don’t care what he thinks—which are surprisingly difficult to come up
with—he’s back in the kitchen, and I have to swallow my tongue.

  I finish slapping the last bit of mayo on the last sandwich, and pile them up on a plate.

  “Sit here!” Caleb says, patting the chair on the other side of him. A smile flashes across Jesse’s lips and disappears as he does what Caleb says.

  “These look yummy,” Millie says, taking a sandwich off the pile and grabbing some chips out of a bag in front of her to put on her plate. “So, Jesse, do you have a job?”

  I look up at Millie. While I’m a generally curious person, I’ve resisted the urge to ask too many questions of Jesse. One, because the first time I did, he responded by being an asshole. Two, because...oh, for Pete’s sake. Because for some reason, I want him to like me. But I will never, ever admit that out loud.

  But, in any case, I’m sort of glad she asked, so that I don’t have to. I want to know more about him. He’s so quiet, mysterious. He’s just this big, hulking, brooding being that stomps around the property all day, moving heavy objects and letting the Eastern Shore sun hit him in all the right places. It’s unfair.

  I want to know more about him. And I wish I didn’t.

  “Uh, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat before he takes another bite of his sandwich. “In town,” he says. Ah, so descriptive. Thank you for the details, Mr. Rowan.

  “Oh, nice. Doing what?” she asks, keeping it casual, but knowing damn well how intently I’m listening. I sigh. It’s unnerving how well my sister knows me.

  “I help out at one of the local businesses. A friend of my parents’ runs it,” he says. She nods. Still so freakin’ vague.

  “Did you help out at the inn, you know, when it was running?” Millie asks.

  “A little,” he says. The hardly riveting conversation stalled as the quiet sounds of chewing and crunching took their place.

  “Do you know how to fish?” Caleb asks, and the relief on Jesse’s face is palpable. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about the inn.

  “Yeah, I know how to fish,” Jesse says, shooting a quick smile in Caleb’s direction. “Do you?”