I’m sorry. I am so sorry for hurting you. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt and I hope, one day, you can forgive me.
It’s okay if you don’t write me back. I understand.
Love,
Nina
Rowan read the letter three times as tears flowed non-stop. It was painful and she didn’t realize how much she needed the words until she received them.
Wiping her face, she folded up the letter, placed it in her keepsake box, and went to bed.
Staring at the ceiling for hours, she wondered what the only friend she’d ever had was working toward in her adult life.
Maybe one day, Rowan would write her and ask.
* * *
Six weeks later, elated from her acceptance into an exclusive business master’s program, her heart stumbled in her chest as she received another letter.
This time, it was from Gage.
Unable to wait until she was back at her dorm, she chose a bench in the quad and lowered to it as she ripped the envelope.
Dear Rowan,
I can see you soaking up knowledge at school like you always did. I hope you’re making everyone else look bad.
I got your mailing address from Miss Jeffries. She asked me why it took me so long to ask for it.
Guilt. Plain and simple, Rowan.
Nina wrote me a while back. Part of her therapy is making amends and she apologized for chasing me back then. Said she told you the same.
It wasn’t her. It was all me, desperate and dick dumb. She didn’t try nearly as hard as she probably told you she did.
I’m ashamed to say, it didn’t take much. I used her because I could. I used her because I told myself it would all be okay in the end. I used her because I was weak and a coward.
Grown ass man led around by his dick. Old enough to know better, hard enough to ignore it.
I think about you every day. I’m not telling you that to make you feel bad or try to excuse what I did. There’s no excuse for what I did.
I rambled a lot of nonsense at you when you showed up that night and you might think I was talking out of my ass to try and get in your pants. I wasn’t.
When I said I loved you, I meant it.
I hurt you bad, Rowan. I know that. The last thing you said to me in the woods haunts me. I don’t want what I did to keep you from loving somebody else that deserves you.
I’m sorry. Deeply, deeply sorry.
You take care of yourself and show all those snotty trust fund babies I know you’re at school with why you got a full ride to one of the best colleges in the country.
You’re beautiful, brilliant, and my greatest regret. You ever need help from my dumb ass, you let me know. I wouldn’t mind seeing your pretty face again...as the friend I should have been to you all along.
Always,
Gage
For an hour, Rowan stared at nothing, his letter in her hand. Her mind and heart in chaos, she finally managed to pull herself together.
Standing, she walked to her dorm, put the letter in her keepsake box, and went to grab dinner before her shift started at the bookstore.
She still hurt deep in her chest. She still didn’t imagine it disappearing anytime soon.
Disregarding all common sense, she still loved him.
Rowan knew she was still too weak to write Gage, speak to him, or see him.
To get stronger, she needed more time.
* * *
Rowan did not fit in with other people at college. She hated alcohol, possessed zero patience with dating or the opposite sex in general, and followed a firm agenda she’d laid out in her mind that made her fellow students look at her sideways.
Sleep was a commodity she didn’t have nearly enough of but it would all be worth it in the end.
Receiving her bachelor’s in business in three years by piling on her course load, she dove immediately into her master’s program without a second thought.
All the education she needed, she planned to get as quickly as she could. There was no time to waste when a person made barely sixty dollars a week checking customers out at the local bookstore.
Surviving on ramen noodles, peanut butter, and bottled water - some Kool-Aid if she was feeling fancy - Rowan kept her head down, studied hard, and kept her priorities straight.
Despite not writing Nina or Gage, they continued to write her every few months. Their letters were like journal entries, telling her about their days and the people they met.
It was comforting to read them, even with the dull throb of pain in her heart, and Rowan revisited them when a rare bout of loneliness appeared in her own life.
The only person she spoke to once a month was Miss Jeffries. Returning from a double shift on a Saturday afternoon, Rowan called the elderly woman from the payphone in the hall to check in.
Miss Jeffries told her that Gage’s father had died suddenly the day before. “The medical folks suspect it was an aneurysm but they won’t know for a bit. I know you’re studying for middle of the year exams so don’t worry about comin’ for the funeral, Rowan. Still…”
“I’ll write to Mrs. Chambers now. I promise.”
“Maybe Gage, too. He was the youngest and he’s takin’ his daddy’s loss pretty hard.”
Swallowing, staring at the wall above the payphone, Rowan nodded. “Alright. I-I’ll write him.”
They talked for a few more minutes and Rowan walked to her room. She removed stationary from her desk and sat staring at it for several minutes in silence.
Tabitha Chambers and her husband Delson were fixtures in Rowan’s childhood. Gentle, kind people who laughed easily and always asked Rowan details about school. She wrote Mrs. Chambers first and cried as she did.
When it was done, she took out a fresh piece of paper and found herself unable to move, to write, or to formulate a single thought. How she wished she’d written Gage at least once before composing a letter about his father’s death.
Taking several deep breaths that helped to calm her somewhat, she placed the pen to paper and wrote what her heart directed.
Hello, Gage.
I just spoke to Miss Jeffries and she told me about your father. I was devastated for you and your family when I heard the news. I greatly admired your dad and always liked when he’d bellow across the yard about everyone getting some good eats off his grill.
He was always nice to me and I know he was an amazing father to you and your brothers. I’m sure you’re hurting and I hate that you are.
Please hug your mom for me and have her give you one back (also from me). I wrote her a letter as well.
If it’s any comfort, I’ve always thought that you were the most like your dad. You got your easy laughter and happy spirit from him, I think.
Don’t tell your brothers but they were always a bit stuffy compared to you and Mr. Chambers. They took themselves rather seriously.
You also look the most like him. When you start to miss him, take a look in the mirror. I know he was proud of you - all your life - and he’ll be watching to see what you do next.
I’m sorry, Gage. Truly.
Rowan
Addressing both letters, she walked to the mailbox and dropped them inside. Then she returned to her room and thought about a man so many would miss.
Imagining Gage mourning his father’s loss with the extensive family a good man left behind pushed her into painful tears.
A few months after losing his father, Gage wrote that he’d taken over the cattle business for his dad.
His mom moved out of the house she’d lived in throughout her marriage because the memories were too painful.
I’m living in this big old house alone now. It’s strange not to have someone down the hall or upstairs. Noise, movement, breathing...something. I never realized how big it was until there was no one living here but me.
Nina secured the lead in a play and had decided to take some fashion design classes in her spare time.
Rowan started writing them ev
ery few weeks but never told them anything personal about her life or asked them personal questions about themselves.
The five years since that night had given her some much needed perspective. Youth, lust, loneliness, and desperation could create an environment ripe for mistakes.
She didn’t hurt as much as she once did: when recalling a memory of Gage or Nina could bring on unexpected tears that didn’t stop.
Every year it got better.
Sometimes she dreamed about Gage and woke aching so badly that she wanted to kick herself.
* * *
College was made for a driven woman like Rowan. She bent all her focus, all her will, to getting her education. She had no intention of abusing the opportunity she’d been given.
She was officially done with classes and would be graduating at the top of her class. Technically, she was already a graduate and it felt incredible.
She could finally start searching for a job that paid more than retail, move out of a dorm filled with spoiled children, and get on with what came next.
Her world was hers to command.
That was just the way she liked it.
She jogged from the campus bookstore along the huge box hedge that lined much of the property.
She’d just sold back the last of her textbooks and was calculating her finances happily.
As frugal as she was with every penny, her job at the bookstore had provided a little nest egg that would allow her to get an efficiency apartment while she hunted for a permanent job.
Leaving chaotic dorm life behind was going to be heavenly. She valued her privacy and quiet.
Running along the hedge, she approached a hidden drive. A limo pulled out directly in front of her. She was going too fast to stop and didn’t want to take the hit in her legs.
Twisting with a small jump, she slid over the hood on her butt and landed in a hard crouch on the other side. She could tell right away that she’d sprained her ankle and gritted her teeth against the sharp pain.
Car doors opened and then two people stood over her.
“I’m fine, honestly. Please, I’m fine.” Showing weakness - ever - was humiliating and grated against her fierce independence.
There was a small chuckle followed by a cultured voice saying, “Well, you just went over the hood of the car like a stunt woman. James, help her up please.”
A very large golden man bent and lifted her the rest of the way to her feet as if Rowan was no bigger than a toddler. He supported her when she put all her weight on her injured foot. Both men watched as she tried to play off the sprain.
James was almost a foot taller than she was and his coloring reminded her of Nina. “Your ankle is injured,” the driver pointed out.
Rather unnecessarily in Rowan’s opinion.
She took a deep breath. “It’s probably just a cramp. Really, no reason to worry.”
Glancing up, she met the prettiest green eyes she’d ever seen in the face of an older man with black hair silvering at the temples. She recognized him instantly.
“Oh, my god. You’re Bennett Jefferson,” she said reverently. He nodded once curtly and seemed prepared for her to fall on the ground and grab her neck.
No way would she embarrass herself in front of her idol.
“I’m a huge fan of your investment column, Mr. Jefferson. What an honor to meet you in person. Honestly, a little bump was worth it for the privilege.” Looking up at the driver who still supported her weight, she added, “James, you’re strong. I’m not light and you picked me up like a potato chip bag.”
Smiling at both of them, she carefully placed her weight on her sprained ankle and grinned through the pain. Later, she’d wonder how maniacal it looked.
“I have to get back to my dorm. Y’all have a great night.” She turned and started to limp away slowly.
The investment banker and billionaire financier known to every person with serious money in the world called out, “Young woman, what is your name?”
Over her shoulder she answered, “Rowan Foxe. Don’t worry, you won’t see my name on a lawsuit. I swear. I’d rather swallow shards of broken glass than initiate another frivolous lawsuit in this country. I’ll throw some ice on it and be good as new in a day or so. Again, really great to meet you in person, Mr. Jefferson. I’m stoked.”
James asked his employer, “Is she really going to limp to her dorm after I hit her with the car?”
“It appears so. How extraordinary.” She managed fewer than ten steps when Bennett Jefferson said loudly, “James, please bring Miss Foxe back to the car so we can return her to her dorm. She’ll never make it with a hurt ankle.”
“I’m fine,” she called without looking back. “Seriously…”
Then James was beside her and it was immediately obvious that arguing with the driver was an exercise in futility. He stared at her for a long moment, bent, and bodily lifted her in his arms. He carried her back to the limo and set her on the seat.
“This isn’t necessary, Mr. Jefferson. No need to make a fuss.”
Mr. Jefferson snorted. “On the contrary, Miss Foxe. When one hits you with their car, a fuss is generally expected.” He slid into the backseat across from her.
With a heavy sigh, she answered James’ question about which dorm she lived in and he closed the door.
As he got behind the wheel, she asked, “Can you stop a block or two away, James?”
“My goodness, may I ask why?” Mr. Jefferson had an expression of shock and general confusion on his face.
“Half the girls in this place come from extremely wealthy families, here to hook up with the next business mogul or oil man. It’s beyond nauseating and I’m afraid I’m quite vocal about their complete lack of self-respect. Selling themselves to the highest bidder and whatnot.”
It was impossible to prevent her eye roll.
“My financial analysis paper was an in-depth study of your market strategies, sir.”
“Fascinating.”
“I’m something of a super-fan of your work. If they see me getting out of a limo, specifically your limo, I’m going to look like the worst hypocrite. I have to practically beat these silly bitches down half the time as it is.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask why.”
Affecting a stereotypical southern belle persona, Rowan fanned herself and fluttered her lashes. “Why, I declare, I don’t know why they let these scholarship students in here. They should select applicants based on their hierarchy in the social and financial strata. Allowing charity cases into our hallowed halls is just plain vulgar.”
“That bad, huh?” She nodded with a heavy sigh. “You seem uniquely grounded for someone your age, Miss Foxe. Your attitude should be refreshing to other young people.”
“Call me Rowan. I don’t rate a Miss Foxe in any company.”
“As you wish but not because you don’t rate the respect. Why would you think you don’t?”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember anything before waking up in a hospital with a busted head at age ten. My name is cobbled together from a piece of paper and a wooden necklace. It may or may not even be mine, Mr. Jefferson.”
“Call me Bennett. Tell me more.”
“I spent the next eight years in a girls’ home in a small town named Daingerfield and I came here on an academic scholarship. I work at a bookstore. I buy my clothes off the rack when I feel the need to shop once a year. I don’t drink and I don’t date. None of these people know how to deal with me and since I have no interest in dealing with them, it’s just best if we avoid contact at all times.”
James pulled over a block away from her dorm entrance and Rowan moved to get out.
Bennett put his hand on her forearm. “Miss Foxe…Rowan. Allow me to assist you. You aren’t going to be able to work for a week or two with that ankle. I distracted James as he was leaving the parking lot and feel horrible about it. You must allow me to replace your wages.”
With that, he pulled his wallet out of a suit jacket th
at probably cost more than everything she owned combined. Withdrawing a wad of hundred dollar bills, she thought there must be several thousand dollars there.
He tried to hand them to her and she laughed as she leaned away. “Uh, no. You don’t know what someone makes at a bookstore these days, do you? I clear less than a hundred dollars a week. If it will make you feel better, I’ll take a hundred for this week. I’ll recuperate and be back on my feet in no time.”
Bennett quirked a dark brow. “I’m going to have to insist or I’ll have James carry you to your dorm room and tuck you in. He will announce loudly that you’re my new…protégé.”
Rowan’s mouth opened and closed twice before she snapped it shut with a glare. She took the cash, removed a single hundred-dollar bill, and tucked the rest into a compartment beside the seat.
“I insist you be reasonable. You may be used to dealing with Wall Street but you’ve never dealt with me. You’re much nicer than most people would think in person. Thank you for the ride. There are a thousand things I would have rather talked to you about - current interest rates and the depreciation of the American dollar, for instance.”
James opened the door and helped her out, making sure she didn’t trip as she hopped up on the curb.
Bennett opened the window and said quietly, “It was a great pleasure to meet you, Rowan. Let me give you a signed copy of my book for all your trouble.”
He removed a Montblanc pen and spent a moment signing the inside cover. “Here you are. You’re an enigma. I hope we meet again.”
She took the book excitedly. “Sprain was worth it for your autographed book. Thanks, Bennett.”
“You’re welcome, Rowan.”
They didn’t pull away until she reached her dorm entrance. The distance took forever to traverse and hiding the pain she was in took acting skills she hadn’t known she had. Her skin covered in sweat, she gave them a wave and ducked inside.
The stairs were going to be a bitch.
Chapter Three
2000-2001 - Age 22-23
Rowan made it to her dorm room and collapsed in pure agony on the twin bed. Her ankle was so swollen she had trouble getting her sneaker off.
The stairs had almost been the end of her. She was sweating harder than when she ran.
Coming Home: The Damaged Series - Book Three Page 3
