Take the Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  “Hell, no, I don’t feel better,” I roar. I stand up and begin to pace. “I’ve told you the truth and given you what you wanted so you could feel secure in your future, not like you’re hanging out in the wind, waiting for a big gust to blow you away.

  “I did that, not your brother, not your parents, not anyone but me. The man who loves you,” I add.

  “So you say,” she says.

  “So I say,” I repeat with a laugh. “So I do. So I did. Without me you wouldn’t have shit.”

  “Get out,” Rowan snaps, jumping to her feet. She shoves at my chest, but I won’t budge. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

  “Make me.”

  Her hand snaps back, like she’s going to slap me. I brace for it, but it never comes. Instead, she shoves my duffel bag into my chest and runs into her bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.

  “That went well.” I take a few deep breaths to clear my head. “I’m heading to Jase’s to stay,” I call out. “If you need anything, I’ll be there.” I have no idea why I’m telling her this. She already believes the worst about me.

  “Good for you. He’s having a party tonight, so I’m sure you’ll find plenty of sloppy seconds,” she shouts.

  Reluctantly, I leave the house, get in my truck, and call Jase. He answers on the second ring.

  “Seth.”

  I hear a breathy moan in the background.

  “Mind if I crash at your place?” I ask, trying to ignore the woman who’s practically panting into the phone.

  “Nah.” Something scrapes across the phone, and then I hear Jase whispering to the woman. “Like that, all the way down…fuck, that’s good.”

  “Okay. I’ll knock real loud when I get there.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  When it comes to Jase Simmons, texting is your friend, I remind myself. The dude had no shame, although at least he tried to be discreet. A little.

  Since there’s a party at his place, I get out of my truck and walk the couple of blocks between the houses. My vehicle is safer at Rowan’s than at any throwdown at Jase’s. Some of his friends have no clue what private property actually means, or they don’t care.

  Just as I walk up the driveway, Piper comes bursting out the side entrance, her face all flushed. Oh, fuck. Surely that’s not the girl who was on the phone. Rowan’s going to kill Jase if he’s just used Piper and then sent the poor girl on her way. Hell, I’ll help her.

  “Piper,” I call out. “Need a ride?”

  Her eyes grow wide. “No. I…um…parked down the street, but you might not want to go inside right now. Jase has company.”

  Jase chooses that moment to appear, his jeans barely on him and a murderous expression on his face. “Piper Ross, get your ass back here so we can talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she says primly and then steps behind me.

  “Move it, O’Connor.” He walks toward me, trying to reach around to grab her.

  “Nope.” I grab his arm. “The lady says no. Maybe you should go back inside.”

  His blue eyes are bloodshot and he doesn’t look like he’s slept in days. There’s whiskey on his breath and his jaw is covered with what Piper would probably refer to as golden stubble. The girl has always had a thing for fairy tales, though I did appreciate the shoes she gave to Rowan. My ass and thighs did not appreciate the scratches from them, though.

  “I just want to apologize,” he says.

  Piper peeks around the other side. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should have called before visiting.”

  “Wouldn’t have been any different,” I mutter, and Jase’s jaw works.

  “Not helping,” he points out and takes a step back. He holds up his hand. “Not going to touch you.”

  “I don’t have a problem with you touching me,” she says and I want to cover her mouth. “We’re friends, Jase, and I only wanted to check on you and bring you something to eat.”

  His dark blue gaze roams over her. “You brought me something very delicious.”

  Oh Jesus. Yeah, he’s smooth, but I do not have time for this. I’m tired as fuck from extra PT, dealing with Rowan, and getting my ass chewed out by my commander before he realized his mistake.

  Piper’s hazel gaze drops, her cheeks flushing. “Your date is looking for you.”

  “My what?” he says and then glances behind him. I look, too, only to see the face responsible for the panting. She’s nice to look at if you like that fake-tit shit. I don’t. “Oh. Go back inside, Angel.”

  Piper sucks in a breath. “She’s your angel?”

  “It’s her stripper name,” I reply.

  “It is?”

  Jase glares at me. “There’s no shame in working for a living.”

  “Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply there was,” Piper says. She starts edging away and I take a look at what she’s wearing. Oh, hell. No wonder Jase is so hell-bent on changing her mind. Piper looks like a winter pinup girl, wearing a sweater dress that clings to every lush curve and fur-topped high-heeled boots. But the kicker is the pearls in her ears and around her neck. They scream class and innocence on her.

  Hell, even I approve of her outfit, though I’d rather see Rowan wearing it. That is, if we were on better terms and she didn’t hate me right now.

  “You really want to take that,” I nod at Piper, “and dirty her up with Angel?”

  For a minute, he considers it, I can see it with my own eyes. Then he shakes his head. “No.” He turns to Piper again. “Thanks for the casserole, kitten.”

  She frowns. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to call me that anymore. I’m not fourteen anymore.”

  He’d been calling her that since she was fourteen? How in the hell had I missed—oh, right. Rowan.

  Jase holds out his hands, clearly insulted by her reprimand. “Excuse me, Ms. Ross. Or is it Princess Piper?” He points to her. “I like the sound of that. Go home, Princess, your kingdom misses you.

  “And I’m the damn fool who can’t have you,” he mutters as she speed walks to her sport coup.

  “I’m horny, Jase. Can we finish fucking?” Angel asks, not in the least disturbed by what just went down. She gazes at me with glassy eyes. “Are you staying?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With me and Jase?”

  “No,” Jase says, brushing past her and taking her hand. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

  “That girl was so pretty. I wanted to touch her.” She pouts. “She smelled so good, too. Like one of those classy perfume stores.”

  “Cacharel Anaïs Anaïs,” he murmurs.

  “What’s that?”

  Jase leans down, running his nose along Angel’s neck. “It’s French.”

  “I want some,” she sighs. “I want to smell like her.”

  “Too innocent for you,” he says, and I have to wonder if he’s talking to himself or to the female in his arms.

  “I want her.”

  “She’s forbidden, remember.” Yeah, he’s completely talking to himself.

  Angel pouts even more. “Him, too.”

  “Yeah. Him, too.”

  Her full lips turn down. “Maybe you’ll have friends over later who aren’t?”

  Jase glances at me. I hold up my hands. “Your house. No judgment. I only want to crash until Sunday.”

  He gives me a grateful look. “Yeah, we’ll get you some friends,” he says, tugging her upstairs. “But, this time, we stay in the bedroom.”

  “She watched for a long time.”

  “Too long,” Jase said, and, turning to me, cleared his throat. “Make yourself at home. Pantry’s stocked.”

  Make myself at home in the house that had been my second home while I grew up. I look around the kitchen and smile a little. Nothing has changed. Despite Jase’s ragged appearance, he is OCD about cleaning. He hates dirt, and I think being in prison probably made it worse.

  I hear a rhythmic creaking, but other than that and Angel’s calli
ng out his name and God’s, the house is quiet. Pulling my earbuds from my bag, I tuck them in and blast music from my phone.

  Growing up, this place had always been full of people, and I had always worried about Rowan’s safety. But Jase had taught her how to defend herself. And, as much as he could, he watched her like a hawk.

  I think I’m the only guy to ever have dated her without getting my ass handed to me. Then again, he knew I loved and respected her. Still do, in fact. I make my way to the other side of the house, to the room in the back. At one time this huge house had been someone’s pride and joy. It’s enormous, about five thousand square feet, and sits on an unheard-of six acres. Hence the reason why parties did so well here.

  Apparently, Jase and Rowan’s dad is some big-shot millionaire who’d given it as a present to their mom before he’d taken off. Supposedly, he couldn’t handle the whole family responsibility thing. Their mom couldn’t take it and fell into drugs. Sometimes, I think she took Jase with her.

  But not Rowan. Jase was always adamant about her staying a kid for as long as possible. Maybe that’s the other reason I was allowed to date her. We were only a year apart in age while his other friends were three or more years older than her.

  I push open the door to the small bedroom in the back. There’s a narrow bed on one side and a small, private bathroom on the other side. A desk faces two windows with a view of the yard out back. I can just make out the fountain that’s never been full of water, except when it rained.

  I think this would have been the butler’s room back in the day. Or maybe the main housekeeper’s. Either way, it’s clean and comfortable.

  Tossing my bag onto the bed, I roll my shoulders and my neck, trying to ease the tension. I double-check my phone, just in case Rowan came to her senses in the fifteen minutes I’ve been gone.

  My messages remain the same. No such luck.

  I sit on the bed and start to go through my stuff, looking for that extra shirt I packed. Instead I stab myself in the hand with the sharp edge of something.

  “Damn,” I mutter, taking the object out. It’s a stack of envelopes tied together. Letters from Rowan. Letters I never read, but kept with me. There are dozens of them in varying widths. Carefully untying the string holding them together, I take the one from the top and open it.

  Dear Seth,

  Today your grandmother finally made me go to school. It sucked. I hated starting my senior year without you. Not that you would have been here with co since you’re a year older than me and have different obligations.

  Anyway, the kids are asswipes. They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know you would never hurt anyone, only defend them. Except Piper—Piper Ross—if you have trouble remembering my best friend’s name. Okay, girl best friend. She sticks to me like glue. It’s…nice to have someone on my side.

  English class is fun. We’re reading your favorite book, The Count of Monte Cristo. I cheated by watching the movie first. Hope you don’t get it in that stupid smart brain of yours to become all revenge driven when you get out. It didn’t work out too well for him. And it won’t for you, either.

  I miss you so much. I love you, too. When you get out, maybe you’ll still have time for my senior prom?

  Don’t worry about the other day. We all say things in the heat of the moment.

  Your girl forever,

  Rowan

  I read each one, laughing at her insights and hurting when she starts to realize that I’ll never answer her.

  Dear Seth,

  Please tell me what to write to make you forgive me. I miss you.

  Love,

  Rowan

  Dear Seth,

  You’re being mean. Write back, asshole. I miss your face. It’s much better looking than the new guy in third period. He keeps asking me out, but I keep saying no.

  Love,

  Rowan

  Dear Seth,

  Obviously, your time in the slammer hasn’t toughened you up enough to read one girl’s letter to you without crying like a baby. But I’ll forgive you if you’ll call me. Jase gets to call….

  Love,

  Rowan

  Dear Seth,

  Today, I turned seventeen without you or my brother. Thanks a lot for the birthday present you never sent. Jase gets to email me, but I think you would ignore those, too, or claim you never got them, so I won’t bother trying to contact you that way.

  Come on, Seth. Write me. You have to. When I blew out the candles, I made a wish that you would and birthday wishes have to come true, right?

  Love,

  Rowan

  Dear Seth,

  I finally had sex with another guy. Did that get your attention? Actually, I didn’t because I’m a loyal person and only want to be with you. But it’s hard being loyal to a guy who won’t even write you back or call.

  I hate this new side of you.

  Love,

  Rowan

  “Fuck,” I breathe. I should have read these letters a long time ago. I would have seen the inside of the heart of a sixteen-year-old girl who’d just lost everything. I couldn’t even be bothered to call her on her fucking birthday.

  For a long time, I stare at the letters. Then I start gathering them up. I know exactly what I need to do.

  Chapter 16

  Rowan

  Bleary-eyed and half-awake from crying all night, I stare at Seth in complete shock. He’s standing on my front porch. There are dark circles under his eyes and he hasn’t shaved. This is not the look of a man who slept well. I’m torn between telling him to get the hell off my property and dragging him to my bed. I settle for interrogation.

  “Why are you here? Haven’t you hurt me enough? Need to rub in how awesome living in Hawaii will be without me?” Way to be strong, Rowan.

  Ignoring my questions, he holds up the letters. “Did you mean what you said in these?”

  Everything. I meant everything. “You’re asking me this now, seven years later?”

  He flushes. “I never read them before now.”

  “What?” The pain at what he just admitted cuts through me. It’s like I’m reliving his rejection all over again.

  “But I kept them. I took them to Afghanistan with me. They were my connection to home, to you. These letters and my tattoo, that’s all I had.”

  His admission makes me go all soft and gooey on the inside, but I refuse to melt all over. I will be strong. I won’t let him in.

  Then he pulls out another set of letters and holds them up. “I’ve stayed up for the last forty-eight hours writing to you. I haven’t slept. I’ve barely eaten because I had to answer them before I head back to base.”

  My knees go weak. Stupid, weak knees. “I don’t want them.”

  Seth smiles sadly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. But I’m going to leave them right here”—he kneels, setting the letters on my doormat—“in case you get bored today.”

  Tipping up my chin, I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t get bored. I have a business to run.”

  “Yeah, you do, and you’re a damn good businesswoman.”

  “I don’t need you telling me what I already know.” But hearing that felt almost as good as being with you.

  He blows out a breath. “I deserve that from you. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that you won’t have to deal with the uncertainty of what I’m doing with the shop, because I’m not going to sell it to you…or anyone else for that matter, but you have to read the letters to find out why.”

  “Oh, goody—a mystery.”

  He hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “Anyway, I’ll leave the letters. What you do with them or with the information you find in them is up to you.”

  “So completely nice of you.” I refuse to look at the letters. Or allow myself to even guess what he could have written. I keep my gaze trained on him, making myself hard. Uncaring. A complete stone statue, when inside I’m crumbling to pieces, the fractures he caused so long ago giving in under the weight
of the pain I feel right now.

  Seth is leaving me. Again. Only this time…I’m not so understanding. I’m not so sympathetic.

  “I’m sorry, Rowan.” His voice cracks. “So damn sorry I hurt you.”

  I shut the door without answering him.

  After thirty minutes, I peer through my blinds to check the driveway. It’s empty. I open the door and snatch the letters before anyone can catch me.

  Bumping the door closed with my hip, I tear into the first letter.

  Dear Rowan,

  I remember the first time we met, in kindergarten. You punched me for not letting you swing first, and I fell in love. I never stopped.

  While I was in prison, I felt betrayed by you, by Jase…by everyone. That wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Jase’s, either. I’d forgotten that. I needed someone else to blame…

  Only, I had made the choice to take the fall with him and go to prison. Not you. Not him. Me. And I have to own that.

  So this is me, owning my actions, and begging for your forgiveness.

  Love,

  Seth

  P.S. I won’t be able to go to your senior prom because I’ll be in boot camp. Send me a picture of the dress you’re wearing, and remember to punch your date in the nose if he tries to mess with you. I bet you’ll be the sexiest woman there. On second thought, take Piper as your date.

  Dear Rowan,

  There isn’t anything you need to write for me to forgive you. Just keep writing. It gets lonely in here. Miss your face and your hot body.

  Love,

  Seth

  Dear Rowan,

  Happy birthday! I’m very sorry I couldn’t be there to help you blow out the candles, or eat my grandmother’s cake. Maybe you could bring me a piece the next time we have visiting day at Western.

  Each day I get to go outside. Some guys stare through the fence, while others play basketball. Me, I write you back first—every time—then work out while giving everyone the evil eye.