“They don’t allow their only daughter to move out.”
“You sound panicked.”
She makes the most adorable sound, sort of like a growl. “I am panicked. I don’t want to get into the middle of a power struggle with Piper and her parents, but she’s also my best friend. She stayed my friend when no one else would, Seth. People were cruel when you and Jase went to prison. Really, really cruel. She became an outcast for me.”
Pain slices through me as I imagine what Rowan must have endured as a sixteen-year-old girl from the wrong side of the tracks at our snobby-ass school. All because of things out of her control.
“Bring her home, baby.”
She’s silent for so long that I check to make sure my call wasn’t dropped.
“Where will she sleep? I don’t feel right letting anyone in Miss Myrtle’s old room,” she says with a little hitch to her voice.
“Your room or mine. Either way, we’ll share.”
“Don’t you have all the answers?” she replies, but the little dig is halfhearted.
“You’re welcome.”
“Piper and I will share until it’s time for you to go back to Jacksonville, then she’ll get your old room,” she says.
“And when I come back?”
“That’s not something I’m worried about happening. I don’t know why I called you in the first place,” she says and hangs up on me before I can respond.
I dial her number and get sent straight to voice mail. I try again and again, until I realize she’s turned off her phone. “Fuck me.” Falling against the cushions, I toss my phone to the side.
After everything I’ve done, she still doesn’t trust me to come back. I’ve put up with her bossy ass, taken her insults, left town and come back to show her I’m a man of my word, broken up a fight, and helped get her best friend away from Jase so she didn’t get her ass kicked by his vicious girlfriend. I’ve apologized until I’m blue in the face, fucked her, made love to her, and simply held her in my arms.
What more do I have to do?
Closing my eyes, I try to force my anger to leave my body. It’s not her fault. I screwed her over. I pushed and pushed until she had no desire to come back to me.
But it occurs to me in that moment that, once again, I was the first person Rowan called for help. She could have called anyone—her brother, Boyd….I frown.
Who else would Rowan call?
All she does is go to work and hang out with Piper, unless she’s out to celebrate with friends from work.
Is that all there is to her life? Yeah, it’s fulfilling, but what else does Rowan like to do? I know what she used to like, but—as she keeps telling me—she’s not the girl I used to know.
But maybe, just maybe, the girl she used to be is hiding behind that tough-as-nails façade I helped create.
Chapter 12
Rowan
Sunday morning, Piper moves six suitcases and two bags to my house. I struggle getting the last one through the door and into Seth’s old room.
“What’s in this—rocks?” I ask, hefting it on the bed.
“Shoes.”
“Can’t blame you.” Piper has an amazing shoe collection. She’s like the rock star of shoe collections. Only, she’s not allowed to wear three-fourths of them in public because, as her mother says, women of good breeding don’t wear hooker heels. If I were Piper, I’d be more offended by the comparison to animals than the hooker description. “I wish my feet were as small as yours.”
Piper’s eyes twinkle. “I might have added a few size elevens to my collection last week.”
I put my hands on my hips. “It’s incredibly rude to tease your new roommate like that.”
She unzips the bag and pulls out a pair of three-inch stilettos covered in crystals that make me sigh and drool.
“Here you go, roomie.”
“What?”
“They’re yours.” With a little grin, she shakes them at me. “You know you want them.”
Taking them from her, I hold them reverently and gaze at them adoringly. “If Cinderella had worn these at the ball, the prince would have taken her up to his bedroom instead of dancing.”
“Maybe they’ll help you find your Prince Charming.”
I roll my eyes. “No such man exists.”
“Give them back,” Piper orders, holding her hands out. “Only those who believe in the possibility of a happily ever after get to keep those.”
“I believe. I believe, Fairy Godmother Piper!”
She dissolves into a fit of giggles. “I like the sound of that. I’ve never been—”
“Hold that thought, lady. Only those who have complete confidence in themselves get to live here.”
Piper mimes zipping her lips.
“Rowan?” Seth calls from the doorway.
My heart bounces against my chest. As usual, Seth and I ignored each other at work, communicating only via email and Boyd. “Can I help you?”
Piper makes a face at me, then smiles at Seth. “Thanks for letting me move in.”
“You’re always welcome at Rowan’s house.”
My eyes narrow as I whirl around. “So it’s my house now?”
He gives me a sexy, crooked smile. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. In private.”
I tip up my chin. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Piper.” Yeah, I’m a huge coward to use my best friend as a buffer, but I don’t want to be alone with him. Well, okay, so I do want to be alone with him, and that’s the problem.
His dark gaze roams my face. “I talked to Shaw about the house yesterday.”
“And?”
“I’m deeding it to you.” Then he walks away, leaving me to stand there with my mouth open wide.
“I think I just spotted the elusive Prince Charming,” Piper says from behind.
“Until he backs up his words, I’m not holding my breath,” I say loudly, but on the inside I’m completely breathless. My heart’s quaking, while I’m hoping he’s not lying.
“So very chaaaaarming,” Piper sings out.
I turn to face her, holding up a heel. “Don’t make me use this as a weapon.”
Piper snorts. “Go on. I dare you to throw it at me and risk breaking that gorgeous, sexy shoe on my hard head.” She lightly raps on the side for emphasis. “Like. A. Brick.”
I clutch my heels tighter to my chest and decide to not even think about the house right now. “You’re on probation.” With two fingers I point at my eyes, then hers. “So watch it.”
Practically skipping to my room, I imagine all the places I can wear my new shoes. Well, not around here obviously. I try them on and nearly moan at the sight.
Humming, I dance around the room with an imaginary partner. The shoes are so comfortable that I barely know they are on my feet.
“Nice shoes,” Seth says, leaning against the door. “Plan on wearing those for me tonight.”
I freeze, then slowly take off my heels and put them in the closet. “These are for my fantasies, not yours.”
“Where would you wear them in yours?” he asks.
I glance at him over my shoulder. He seems sincere enough, and he actually looks interested in hearing my answer. Then again…I swallow as a sweet memory takes hold.
We’re lying on a blanket down by the river. Sunlight filters through the leaves. The breeze is warm, though I’m a bit chilly. Seth and I have just made love and we’re holding hands. I’m only sixteen, but I’m sure he’s the one for me.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” he asks. “Pick any place.”
“The beach? I’ve never been there.”
He rolls to one side, resting his head on his hand. “I’ll take you to the beach this summer, Rowan. But what I want to know is your ultimate fantasy kind of place. A place I can save up my money and take you to one day.”
My heart melts at his words. “I need to think about it.” I’ve never thought about going anywhere, h
onestly. My world is on our street, four houses down.
“Wherever you are is where I want to be,” he says solemnly. “That’s my fantasy, you know. To be with you forever.”
“Rowan,” Seth says, looking at me with concern. “Are you all right?” He moves closer, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me.” I race past him. I am not fine. Not one bit. Throwing open the back door, I head outside, tears blurring my vision, but I don’t let them fall. I refuse to let them fall.
Strong hands grab my shoulders, spin me around, and shove me into a hot wall of muscle. “Talk to me, Ro. Tell me what has you so upset.”
“Let me go.” Please don’t let me go.
“Can’t do it,” Seth says.
“I don’t understand you.”
“You’ll have the deed to the house by the end of next week.”
I pull back. “It’s not about the house. It’s about everything. I don’t get it. Why is it so important for you to do this? Why now?”
“Because I’ve seen death and war and violence. I’ve held dying men, and all I could think of was you. You’re what got me through.” He shakes his head. “Not just you, but apologizing to you. I made a vow that if I came back from my last deployment, then I would make it up to you.”
“Did you ever think I might not want your apology?”
“No. Apologizing to you—setting things right—is what I’m supposed to do,” he says firmly. “In the Marines, they taught me to be responsible for my fuckups, and I committed no greater fuckup than when I pushed you away.”
“Okay, fine. You’ve set stuff right, or you will once you figure out what you’re doing with the shop. But the rest—me and you—how is that part of your grand plan?”
He leads me to the old gazebo in the backyard and we sit on the swing. It’s sturdy, the chains only groaning a little bit. When we were younger, his grandfather always kept it painted, and then after he passed, Miss Myrtle paid local boys to keep it white. Rosebushes, long untamed, surround the structure.
Miss Myrtle told me on more than one occasion that Mr. Tom had built the gazebo just for her—that the flowers represented their growing love. Then she’d giggle as she shared that every single rose he’d planted the first year had withered and died. But they eventually figured out the best roses for the soil and tended to them. Finally they grew and grew.
When they bloom in the summer, the scent is heady, almost seductive. I still sit out here sometimes at night and relive all the kisses I’ve shared with Seth in this swing. But I’ve never told anybody. It’s my most carefully guarded secret.
That’s my fantasy, and he’s led me right to it. Only, it’s not summer and I’m not sixteen.
“Do you ever think of all the times we sat out here?” he asks suddenly, as if reading my thoughts.
I squirm in my seat slightly, not liking where this can lead us. “Sometimes,” I answer truthfully, surprising myself. “Especially in the summer.”
“The roses,” he says with a smile. “I loved giving them to you.”
He always gave me roses, different colors and lengths. Sometimes in a bouquet while other times just a single rose.
“Grandma would tell me which ones to get. That each one had a meaning.”
“Roses have a meaning?”
He turns to me. “Apparently, they all do. She learned it from a woman named Poppy Holland.”
“Really, then, tell me—what do purple roses mean?” I challenge.
“ ‘Enchantment’—that’s why I gave you purple roses first.”
I can’t hear that. I don’t want to hear that, but his explanation doesn’t stop me from asking more questions. “And yellow?”
“ ‘I like you.’ ”
I list more colors, and he answers each one. If he’s full of it, I won’t know unless I search for it on the Internet.
“And red?” I ask softly. My favorite is red roses. Seth brought those to me all the time, even before I had a favorite.
“It means ‘I love you,’ ” he says quietly, his eyes burning into mine.
I love you. I love you. How often had Seth given me those words—and not only given them to me, but meant them—when we were together? I knew he meant them, just as much as I knew I had meant them when I’d said them back.
That’s why his abandonment hurt so badly. “You thought I betrayed you, didn’t you?” I ask. “When you went to jail and then into the Marines, you blamed me. And Jase.”
He nods slowly. “I blamed you most of all.”
A lump grows in my throat, so big and powerful I can barely breathe around it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to take the fall for us, for me—”
He places a finger under my chin. “You didn’t make the choice. I did. Out of everyone there, Rowan, you were a child compared to the rest of us. I knew what I was doing.”
“You never should have gone to jail. You were always better than any of us,” I say softly.
“Better than you?” Seth dips his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “No such thing. I could never be better than you. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful and wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
My eyes stay open when he kisses me. How am I supposed to stay strong when he says things that make me weak?
Seth
I don’t let our kiss last long, mostly because I wouldn’t stop at just a kiss. I have to be strong for Rowan, because right now she’s vulnerable. Soft. This version of Rowan isn’t one I’ve seen in a long time. There’s no way I’ll screw up just to get in her pants.
I press one last kiss to her forehead and simply hold her to me, gently rocking the swing. Her body melts into mine, and I finally relax a little.
If Rowan had her way, I’m sure she’d rather contend with only the physical aspect of our relationship instead of dwell on the emotional connection between us. She would welcome that, I think. For me, it’s not only about the physical aspect, though being inside of her is beyond amazing. Actually, words can’t adequately describe it. But sex with her, is…more. I don’t think I’m a pussy for recognizing that. Rowan is different, and I’ve been with enough women to confirm what I knew at seventeen.
We belong together. What we have is real, and nothing can change that—not war or distance or even time apart.
She makes a noise in her throat. “Why do you have to go and say stupid things like that?” she grumbles.
I smile at her disgruntled admission. “Because you need to hear it.”
“No, I don’t. I’m perfectly fine not hearing anything you have to say.”
Not going to work, baby. I’m staying right here in this swing with you. “What was college like?” I ask her, and she twists a little to look up at me with wide eyes.
“I didn’t go to a four-year university,” she says slowly, like she can’t quite wrap her head around the change in conversation. But this is how it has to be. Keeping her on her toes so that she doesn’t know what’s coming next is how I have to deal with her. “I went to community college while I worked for Miss Myrtle.”
“I’m aware of that, but was it fun?” I ask, pressing for more. I know very little of what she did once she graduated. The tidbits of information my grandmother gave me weren’t enough. “I’d like to think it was fun for you.” I have to. I don’t want to think of her sitting around and being depressed.
“Fun and me didn’t exactly go together too often—well, once I got partying out of my system,” she says dryly. “I had a lot of responsibilities after my first year of classes.”
“Marines weren’t exactly a cakewalk, either, but when it comes time to have fun”—I whistle—“those men know how to throw down. It’s insane how much my battle buddy can drink the night before we have PT—physical training—and not puke his guts up.”
“What happened to all those scholarships you had to go to UNC Charlotte?” She sits up and turns to me, pulling one leg up and wrapping her arm around it.
“They were rescinded.”
She winces. “I never thought about that happening. Guess that’s another strike against me…and Jase.”
“Rowan,” I begin with a thick exhale. “You are not at fault. Neither is Jase.”
“But—”
“No more blaming yourself.”
Lips twisting a little, she looks away. “Then blame yourself. Whatever.”
“And no more using blame as a wall between us. I’ll knock it flat on its ass if you do.”
She jerks her head around. “Oooh, the big, bad Marine can hit things.”
“Jesus, Rowan. Give me thirty minutes of the real you.”
“I am.” She smirks. “You can’t handle the real me.”
“I can handle anything you throw at me, which is why I’m going to keep calling your bullshit.” I grab her chin. “This tough-ass bitch act doesn’t work with me. Be the strong woman you are—the take-no-prisoners chick—at work. Bust their balls for not doing what they’re supposed to, but for me…if I wanted to fuck my drill sergeant, I’d date him instead of you.”
Her face turns red with anger, and she jerks out of my grip. “We’re not dating.”
I give her a pointed look. “Anyone else you’re spending nights with?”
“Screwing me doesn’t mean you have exclusive rights to my time.”
The caveman inside of me rears its ugly head. “The hell it doesn’t.” I stand up. Too much anger is eating at me to think straight. I said I wouldn’t let her provoke me, yet here I am yelling at her. “I think it’s best if I go back to Jacksonville.”
Her face goes from red to white, but she quickly recovers. “Do what you need to. I have Piper for company.”
But not other men. “I won’t be back for a while,” I say evenly.
“Working in an auto shop too hard for you? Bless your heart,” she coos at me.
“No, I have to go back to my real job.”
“What about me teaching you how to run the business?”
“Like you care about doing that. That would require you to grow the hell up and talk to me like an adult. For what it’s worth, I’d planned on selling the business to you—that is, if you want it, or will you be too damn stubborn to buy it from me?” I shake my head and walk down the steps, heading to my truck.
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