Take the Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  “Jesus, Rowan. This isn’t a fucking movie.” Jase winces, grabbing his ribs. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Cracked a few?”

  “Or broke them.” He stands slowly and breathes out. His face turns white. “Fuck, that hurts.”

  “Rowan, leave,” I say. “I’ll stay here with Jase.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope.”

  Before I can argue with her anymore, the cops show up. They take one look at the four of us, mutter the words, “Simmons boy,” and then break out the handcuffs.

  Rowan

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  I’m sitting in the holding cell with Seth. He’s wearing a standard orange jumpsuit. His face is swollen on one side, the skin around his eye on his good side is mottled purple and green, and his lip is busted. Every last injury is due to a paperwork error that had put him in the general population. The stupid guard took great pleasure in telling me how much a pretty boy like Seth caused a ruckus.

  Bile rises and I force it down, taking a deep breath. I can’t imagine the horror he’s been through, or how he must feel right now. Only, while his feelings matter to me, the rest…I don’t view him any differently.

  He’s still the guy I love. The guy I want to take home with me. The guy I gave my virginity to, and the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  “How are you?” I ask and immediately want to smack myself. How do you think he is, Rowan? He’s in prison!

  “How do you think I’ve been?” he says, his gaze sharp.

  I shrink back a little. “I’m sorry—I didn’t think.” Taking another breath, I try again. “I miss you.” Since he’s been here, my life has gone to crap. And Jase…Jase is here at Western Prison, too—serving time for attempted murder.

  God, if I could go back and shoot Tony Johnson myself, I would. The two men I love the most are behind bars because neither of them would listen to me.

  Neither of them would let me take the fall.

  Guilt overwhelms me, so my gaze lowers and I stare at the table, then the floor…anywhere but at the man sitting across from me. He doesn’t look at me like he used to….In fact, I think he hates me.

  A full five minutes of silence pass before I finally speak again. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “What do you want me to say? Thanks for making me go down for you and your brother?”

  “That’s unfair, Seth. Jase has to serve seven years. That’s a hell of a lot longer than nine months,” I snap and then take a breath. This hasn’t been easy on Seth; he’s not like Jase. I have to remember that.

  When Seth was sentenced, it was like the boy I knew faded away. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, including me, afterward. He let the guards handcuff him and lead him away, without looking back.

  “But he didn’t get the shit beat out of him, did he, the first night and every night for a week until a paperwork mistake was corrected?” Seth blows out an angry breath. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that blood spills into my mouth. “He doesn’t have to join the fucking Marines and get sent off to war to reduce his jail sentence, does he?”

  “You could always get your lawyer to contest it,” I say softly. “Everyone knows Judge Smith gives creative judgments.” But because he’s been on the bench so long and has accumulated so many friends in high places, no one dares to question him.

  “Yeah, right, Rowan. Keep dreaming.”

  “I’m only trying to—”

  He pounds his fist on the table and I jump. “Quit trying to do anything but listen to me. I got a death sentence from some crackpot judge who wanted to make sure I never pulled something like this again. I’ve never been in trouble in my entire life, Rowan. Who’s going to take care of my grandmother now? You?”

  Miserable and helpless, I nod as tears spring to my eyes. “Yes. I’ll take care of her. I’m already living with her. Miss Myrtle took me in after…everything,” I say quietly.

  “Good.” The fierce look on his face fades a little, and I ache to take him in my arms. I want to make him feel better. I want to assure him that everything will be okay. “Promise me you’ll take care of her,” he says.

  I reach out, grab his hand, and squeeze it tight, but it’s entirely one-sided. “I promise. I swear I’ll take care of her, Seth.”

  Finally, finally, his hands cover mine as he lifts them to his lips. He breathes in, eyes closing. “Promise me one more thing, sweetheart.”

  “Anything.” I mean it. I’ll do anything for him if it means he’ll keep loving me. If it means he’ll stop being this guy I don’t recognize.

  His eyes open and my breath catches. They’re like obsidian. Hard and cold. “Don’t ever come see me again.”

  A cry escapes my mouth before I can stop it while the rest of me is frozen and hard, like a statue. Only on the inside, I’m crumbling. I’m dying.

  “Please don’t be this way,” I whisper brokenly. “Please. I’ve already lost Jase. I can’t lose you, too.”

  He rises to his feet. “You already have.”

  I watch as he calls for the guard to come get him, as he’s handcuffed once more and led away.

  Jumping up, I run after him, but another guard puts out his hand.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Seth barks, jerking back and putting himself between the guard and me. Hope springs in my chest. If he didn’t care about me, why would he bother to say that? “Unless you like going to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

  Stunned, I stare up at him. Seth’s dark eyes search my face, like he’s trying to memorize it. This isn’t the boy I love, but he’s in there. I know it. Finding my nerve once more, I take a step toward him. “Seth, I—”

  The guard clears his throat. “You can’t go with him, Miss.”

  My lips tremble as Seth turns away without another word and walks out the door. “I love you, Seth,” I cry, right before the door closes.

  My knees give, and I crumple to the floor, sobbing. This isn’t over, I silently vow. I’m not giving up on us.

  If Seth won’t let me visit him in prison, then I’ll find another way to keep in contact and let him know how much I care. I won’t let his change in attitude toward me drive us apart.

  All I have to do is remember who Seth really is. Who he’s been since we were children. Who he’s been since he first told me he loved me.

  Wiping my tears away, I stand and then grab my purse. When I leave Western Prison, it’s with a sense of purpose.

  I’ll get Seth back, no matter what.

  Seth

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  “Another letter, O’Connor.”

  I take the letter and place it on my bed. For a minute, I almost give in to the temptation of opening it. Every week, without fail, for the past twenty-eight weeks, Rowan has sent me a care package and a letter. The care package, I open, because I’m not stupid.

  But the letters are another story. I don’t want to read them. I don’t want my heart to soften toward her. All I want to do is finish out the next two months and join the Marines. I want to go far away from this place, from my old life, and never look back.

  The hatred that lives inside of me now fuels me. I eat, sleep, and dream about taking my revenge, about actually killing Tony with my bare hands—at least I’d have a reason for being here. Not my bullshit luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time while letting love rule my brain.

  But really¸ can I blame her? She didn’t force me to stay. She didn’t sit on top of my chest and pin me to the ground until I cried uncle.

  I run my hand through my short hair, then pick up the letter and smell it, imagining that it’s her perfume lingering on it. That, instead of piss and vomit and the bleach that never quite cleans it all up, the scent that surrounds me is Rowan’s.

  Images flash through my mind of our last time together, down by the lake, her golden hair spread out on the blanket, her breasts tipped upward, displaying her hard nipples. Rowan is beautiful with creamy skin and long-ass legs. One thin
g I always found sexy is how damn tall she is. How I didn’t have to bend very far to kiss her. How I could take her standing up, once we figured out the mechanics of it.

  How she laughed, how she smiled, how she wrinkled her freckled nose; she made every day brighter.

  “Come home to me,” dream-Rowan breathes. She holds out her arms, but remains out of my reach.

  Shaking my head, I force the fantasy away, but then I do something I never do. I open the envelope.

  “Fine. I get it. We’re over.”

  My gut caves in, like I’ve been repeatedly punched. My throat gets tight, and my vision blurs.

  This is what you wanted, I remind myself.

  God, but I didn’t think it would hurt so damn bad.

  Tucking the letter back into the envelope, I walk to the other side of my cell—all four steps—and carefully place it on top of all the other ones. Then I take the pile and shove it under my mattress.

  Chapter 1

  Rowan

  SEVEN YEARS LATER

  Nothing but death could make Seth O’Connor come home and face the girl he left behind. He had made that completely clear with seven months of ignored letters and care packages I sent him. But that wasn’t what hurt the most—oh, no.

  The deepest cut came a year and a half later, when he’d returned to the States from a deployment and arranged for his grandmother to visit him in Jacksonville, North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune instead of coming home to Forrestville. Naively, I had thought that time in the Marines would make him see what he missed; that even though he’d hurt me, I couldn’t completely cut him out of my life. I don’t think my heart ever stopped racing at news reports of fallen Marines.

  But in the end, and once again, none of that mattered. When he got home from yet another mission, he finally came to town, visited his grandmother…and left before I knew it, like some kind of asshole ninja.

  So, I let him go. Again.

  Instead of pining over Seth, I forced myself to go out with a couple of guys, and although I had fun, it wasn’t special. But I’m living my life. I’ve been making a life without him.

  Over the years, I convinced myself that I was over him. That I didn’t need him. That this hole in my heart could be filled with other things. It worked.

  Liar, liar, a voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it.

  A part of me wants to thank Seth for what he did. He reminded me of something I had forgotten, that no matter how much a man said he loved you, in the end, he would abandon you. Just like my dad. Just like my brother.

  Although it’s not exactly fair to put Jase in the same category. Prison makes it impossible for my brother to have a normal relationship with anyone.

  The only person I’ve ever been able to count on is Miss Myrtle, and now she’s gone, too. But now that Seth’s back, I feel as though time has stopped and rewound. I’m sixteen all over again, and in love with Seth O’Connor while hoping like hell he feels the same way about me.

  I sniff, but I refuse to cry—I’m not sixteen anymore or hoping for anything from him. My heart aches like hell and it feels as though someone’s rammed me in the stomach a million times, but I refuse to let the hurt show. I can’t let him see me weak, but missing a woman like Miss Myrtle isn’t easy to hide. She was fun, caring, smart, and made her house a home for me.

  I lift my eyes, and my gaze collides with Seth’s. The sight of raw pain residing in those dark depths makes me suck in a breath. He’s hurting, just like me. Maybe worse, since he wasn’t here when his grandmother passed.

  He’d missed seeing her alive by seven hours. I hadn’t been at the hospital at the time, but from the gossip, Seth had nearly gone insane when he finally arrived. Then he’d left before I returned—just like always.

  I allow myself a longer look. This is the first time in years I’ve seen him in person. He’s wearing black head to toe. His hair is cut short and his shoulders are broader than ever. When he left Forrestville, he hadn’t been so tall and wide shouldered. He hadn’t been so…manly looking.

  His full lips flatten into a thin line, like he’s displeased at me staring at him.

  Ha! Fat chance I’ll stop now.

  Boldly, I let my gaze travel over his sexy face. At this moment, my pride and anger are overshadowing my grief, so I could give a damn what anyone would think about me checking him out at his grandmother’s funeral.

  He looks older and harder than in the pictures he’d mailed Miss Myrtle. The man in the picture smiled and sometimes posed with a dog in his lap, all the while wearing a uniform and a gun strapped to his thigh. Other times, he would be playfully serious, with his battle buddy and brothers as he called them in his letters to her. But the man standing across from me looks ready to destroy anyone in his path.

  Including me.

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the preacher murmurs as he closes the Bible. He glances up at the mourners, his expression serene. Calm. Just like you’d expect a pastor to be. But I don’t feel serene or calm. I’m a jittery mess inside. “The Gardner family would like to thank you for coming today.” The crowd begins to thin out, whispering condolences to Seth and me as they go.

  “Do you want me to stay here with you?” my best friend asks, her hand slipping into mine. Piper Ross, the epitome of proper southern manners and my lifesaver since the day the two men who had mattered most to me were sentenced to jail. Her hand feels like it’s on fire, or, rather, mine feels like ice. Either way, I need the support right now.

  “Or I can go to your house and handle visitors so you can have some time for yourself,” she adds.

  The thought of dealing with anyone right now makes my stomach roil. “Thanks,” I whisper gratefully as another lump forms in my throat. I’ve known of only one other person as sweet and kind as Piper, and that’s my other best friend, Brooklyn Reeves. Morgan. She’s Brooklyn Morgan now.

  As if she’s reading my mind, Piper continues talking. “Brooklyn would probably do a better job, but you’re stuck with me,” she says seriously. If we weren’t at a funeral, I’d punch her in the arm right now. We’ve been working on her self-esteem issues for years, but her mother has a way of undoing any progress Piper makes with a single withering glare.

  Like she’s doing now. Mrs. Ross’s dark eyes narrow and her mouth pinches. Heck, she probably thinks we’re being rude for talking, even though the ceremony is over. Okay, so she probably thinks I’m rude for talking, and I’m corrupting Piper in the process.

  Much to Mrs. Ross’s obvious displeasure, Piper and I have been best friends for years, but it’s a weird friendship. She’s quiet. I’m loud. She’s proper while I have no clue if the fork I’m using is the right one.

  But I love her to death because she’s never backed down from being friends with me, even after Jase went to jail and everyone else at school looked at me like I was contagious.

  I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at the woman, if only because I don’t want to embarrass Piper. And…I want to make Miss Myrtle proud. She attempted to teach me to be a lady. It’s the least I can do to act like one at her funeral.

  “I’m never stuck with you.” Turning to Piper, I see the tears running down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to be strong. “Besides, pregnant women are moody as all get out. And so are their overprotective husbands who won’t let them fly clear across the country because of their stupid due date.”

  Actually, I had been relieved Brooklyn’s doctor had put her on travel restrictions. As much as I love the girl, she isn’t a part of my past. She didn’t know me before everything went down. She only knows the tough woman I’ve become. The same one who’d hired her to help me manage Gardner’s.

  Swallowing around that lump in my throat, I manage to say, “Could you go deal with everyone?”

  Piper smiles and squeezes my hand. “Take your time.”

  I don’t want to take my time. I want everything to fast-forward and be over with already. I want it to be next week. A year from now. An
y length of time that would put distance between me and death…and Seth.

  “Thanks,” I whisper before she walks away. Turning my attention back to the grave, I struggle to maintain my composure. The workers are already at graveside and pulling away the blanket of Astroturf covering the mound of dirt beside it.

  The world seems to shrink. The thought of all that dirt falling in on her…I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then open them again, only to find Seth’s gaze on me.

  My feet start moving before I can stop them. His eyes widen slightly, and my chin goes up. I can be the bigger person. I can talk to him like it’s no big deal he’s here after being gone for so long. That it’s no big deal he cut me out of his life without a real explanation.

  My hands clench into fists, and I stuff them into the pockets of my winter coat before he sees them. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, inwardly relieved at how controlled my voice sounds.

  “Thanks,” he replies in a gruff voice I’ve never heard before. I want to cry at the sound of it. I want to slap him, too. I want to know why and what the hell’s his problem. Most of all I want his stupid, muscular arms around me while he whispers, It’s okay.

  He starts to leave, but I stop him by stepping slightly in front of him. “How long are you staying?” The question comes out more sharply than I intend.

  Seth gives me a look and runs the side of his thumb right under his bottom lip, just like he did when we were together. “I’m not sure.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. If I don’t, my heart is liable to fall out and onto his feet, where he can grind it into the ground once more. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  Seth

  Distance and time are supposed to dull feelings and memories, but seeing Rowan like this, so beautiful and vulnerable, brings them back to the forefront in an instant.

  Only years of military training and discipline prevent me from touching her, when all I want to do is take this beautiful girl in my arms and hold her. All I want to do is kiss her sweet lips and say that I’ll do anything for her, so she won’t ever cry sad tears again.