Tempting Rowan

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Fine,” he ground out through his teeth. “Don’t let me see him.”

  He stood, pushing the chair back against his desk with a calmness I knew he didn’t really possess. “I think you should leave now,” he whispered with his back to me.

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

  I stood, laying the book on the bed. “That’s…that’s for you,” I said slowly, as he peeked around at me.

  He swallowed thickly, turning around fully, and his eyes landed on the photo album.

  “I was making it for you,” I squeaked. “It’s…it’s pictures of Tristan from when he was born, till now. I was going to fill it until he was eighteen and knew the truth, and then give it to you. But seeing as you know the truth now,” I lifted my shoulders in a small shrug, “I don’t see the point in keeping it.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t mistake the telltale glimmer of tears in his eyes. I hated that I had hurt him. I had been a naïve child, and put my trust in a woman that had never given me a reason to trust her before. I had been foolish. I couldn’t take back that fateful decision, and I was stuck living with the consequences. I always knew that if Trent ever saw Tristan he’d see the resemblance, so there was never any chance of us having a relationship. I had let myself get tangled up in him again, though, because I couldn’t help myself when it came to Trent.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other so I could leave. I stopped with my hand on the doorknob, unable to make myself twist it.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

  I refused to turn and look at Trent, but I had to get this off my chest. He deserved to know my true feelings, even though it was too late for us.

  I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.

  Our breaths were the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Time appeared to stand still as I prepared to say three very important words.

  I swallowed thickly and didn’t bother to look at him. I couldn’t bear to stare at his angry face as I finally spoke these words out loud.

  My eyes closed, and I murmured, “I love you, Trent.”

  He gasped.

  And with that, I swung open the door, tears falling from my eyes as I ran away from everything.

  chapter eighteen

  “Rowan, are you okay?” Tatum asked, her blonde hair falling forward as she leaned across the table to peer at my face.

  I didn’t answer her.

  Was I okay?

  Yes.

  No.

  I suppose.

  I don’t know.

  Did it matter if I was okay or not?

  “I think she’s comatose,” Jude piped in, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

  I didn’t blink.

  “Should I get someone?” Tatum whispered to Jude, but I heard her.

  I must have looked bad if those two were speaking civilly to one another. They bickered like an old married couple. Well, Tatum did. Jude usually just smirked at her as she went on a tirade about what a man whore he was.

  “I dunno,” Jude shrugged, tilting his head and squinting.

  “You’re the one that’s studying to be nurse,” she smacked his shoulder. “You should know if we need to call someone.”

  Jude grinned. “It pleases me that you know what I’m studying.”

  “Oh, down boy,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, “stop fluffing your damn peacock feathers. I only know what you’re studying, because it’s the same as Rowan.”

  Jude rolled his eyes. “Liar. You know you go home and stalk me on Facebook. I bet you lick your computer screen when you see pictures of me shirtless,” he licked his lips suggestively. “Ow!” He exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head where Tatum had swatted him.

  “Focus,” Tatum hissed. “I’m really worried about her.”

  I frowned. I hated that I was worrying them, but I had nothing to say.

  “Look,” Tatum pointed to me, “did you see that? She moved her face.”

  Jude rolled his eyes. “She’s not fucking dead, Tate, of course she can move her face.”

  “Don’t you ever call me Tate,” she seethed, loud enough that several people in the library shushed her.

  Jude raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t know I couldn’t.”

  “Only my friends,” she emphasized, “can call me Tate.”

  “Oh, so we’re not friends?” He grinned, propping his head in his hand and pushing the beanie he wore up his forehead a bit.

  “We’re not anything,” she countered, glaring at him.

  “We’ll see about that,” he chuckled under his breath.

  Watching those two argue was like watching a really competitive tennis match play out. “Will you guys shut up?” I snapped.

  “Finally!” Jude tossed his hands dramatically in the air. “She speaks!”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not mute,” I muttered.

  “What’s going on with you?” Tatum asked, her lips turning down in a frown. “You haven’t been yourself for like two months now. I mean, it’s not like you’re normally a peppy person, but you’re not normally this…depressing either.”

  “I’ve had a lot going on,” I muttered, looking down at the book I should have been reading.

  “Rowan,” Tatum continued, “we’re your friends.” I wanted to laugh at how she reluctantly said, we’re. She didn’t like that Jude was my friend too and was hanging around all the time. “You can talk to us.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I sighed. “Honestly.”

  “Did something happen with Trent?” She questioned, refusing to let up.

  I flinched. Even hearing his name was painful. I hadn’t heard from him since the day I left his apartment a month ago. I told him I loved him, and he did nothing. Not that I was expecting him to run after me, kiss me passionately, and take me back. I knew that was silly, but selfishly I had expected something. A call, a text, something. But I got a whole lot of nothing.

  He didn’t care about me.

  Once he found out about Tristan, that shattered anything we had or could’ve been. I’d known it would, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

  “It did!” Tatum clapped her hands together.

  “Why are you clapping?” Jude nudged her. “Obviously something bad happened, or she wouldn’t be moping like this.”

  “Oh.” Tatum’s shoulders slumped. “Riiiiight.”

  I rolled my eyes and stood, packing up my books. “This has been…fun, but I’m going home.”

  “No, don’t leave,” Tate begged.

  “It’s late. I need to get home anyway,” I muttered, heaving my heavy backpack onto one shoulder and then the other.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Tatum said sadly.

  I didn’t reply. I needed to get out of there. I didn’t want to hear or talk about Trent. I wanted to file all my memories of him in a box and only peek at it when I needed to be reminded of my love for him. I wasn’t ready for that yet. For now, it was easier to pretend he didn’t exist.

  I got in my car, letting out a shaky breath.

  I missed him.

  It killed me to admit that to myself, but I did.

  I missed his smile. His laugh. His warmth. Everything.

  I needed to move on, though. I couldn’t live in the past forever, and that’s all he was to me.

  I knew I would never love anyone else, and I couldn’t see myself with another man, but I needed to move on in some way. It would help if I could focus on school and the kids, but it was impossible. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block Trenton from my thoughts. Thoughts of him always popped up when I least expected it.

  I drove home, keeping the radio silent. I couldn’t remember the last time I listened to music, because even a song could trigger a painful memory that I was trying so desperately to avoid.

  When I stopped in the driveway, the house was dark,
the only light was the one shining in the kids bedroom window.

  I grabbed my backpack, locking my car.

  I stepped inside the house and found Ivy and Tristan waiting for me. They stood in the darkened living room by the door, waiting for me.

  “Uh…what’s going on?” I asked, easing the door closed. I was irked by their strange behavior.

  “Mom’s cold,” Ivy whispered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, fumbling through the dark for a light.

  “She’s cold,” Ivy repeated. “I think she’s sick. She won’t wake up.”

  Oh, shit.

  I finally got the light on and rushed over to the couch my mom always occupied. Ivy was right, she was cold. Too cold. Her skin had turned an icky blue gray color and her eyes were closed, giving the impression that she was sleeping. I knew better though. It didn’t take any medical training to figure out that she was dead. I still felt for a pulse, but no fluttering met my fingers.

  “Ivy, bring me my phone,” I kept my tone as calm as I could. “It’s in my purse.”

  “Is sumfing wrong wif mommy?” Tristan asked, his words unrecognizable than from his tears.

  “She’s not feeling well,” I explained, not sure how to tell him that she was dead.

  Ivy handed me my phone. I dialed 911 and pressed the phone to my ear. “Ivy,” I took the girl into my arms, hugging her, “I want you to take Tristan to your room and play for a little while, okay?”

  She nodded. “She’s dead…isn’t she?” Ivy whispered in my ear.

  I nodded. There was no point in lying to her.

  She reached her hand out for Tristan’s and spoke to him sweetly as she coaxed him out of the room.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  “Uh…” What the heck was I supposed to say?

  “Ma’am, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked again.

  “I-uh-my mom, she’s dead. An overdose, I think,” I muttered, feeling so exhausted.

  And shouldn’t I have been sad? Or remorseful? Something? The woman who was my mom was dead and I didn’t even feel like crying. I’d stopped caring about her a long time ago and after everything she’d done to me I felt nothing but relief at her passing.

  “What’s your address?”

  I rattled it off.

  “I’m sending an ambulance and a police officer to your house. They should be there in ten minutes,” the woman said.

  “Okay,” I said slowly, my voice sounding as dead as the woman lying on the couch. I was in shock.

  I hung up the phone, dropping it to the ground and crawling across the floor to the other side of the room where I sat with my legs drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her body slumped on the couch. Empty bottles lay beside her.

  She could no longer be a pain in my ass, or smack me around, or hold those wretched legal papers over my head. I was free to tell Tristan that he was my son…but at his age, was that the right thing to do? Was he ready for the truth? I didn’t think I could live with this secret anymore, and now that she was gone, I didn’t have to.

  “Row?”

  I looked up to see Tristan standing beside the couch with Ivy behind him, looking from my mom to me.

  “We heard the sirens,” Ivy whispered, like she was afraid I’d be mad they left the room.

  I shook my head, slowly coming to my feet.

  Sirens?

  I forced myself to focus, and I could indeed hear sirens in the distance.

  “I need you guys to stay in the bedroom,” I slowly came to my feet. “Wait there for me, okay?”

  Tristan ran forward, wrapping his arms around my leg. “I don’t want to leave you, Row.”

  I squatted down so I was at his eye-level. “I know you don’t, but I need you to be a big boy and do this for me.” I ran my fingers through his sandy hair. “Can you be a big boy?”

  After a minute, he reluctantly nodded.

  “Good,” I kissed his cheek, steering him back to Ivy.

  They went back to their bedroom and I heard the door shut.

  At that moment there was a knock on the door, announcing the presence of the paramedics and police.

  I opened the door, letting them inside.

  It didn’t take the paramedics long to pronounce her dead.

  The police came inside, looking around, and asking me questions. I knew it was all standard procedure, but it still bugged me. I wasn’t a criminal, and I most certainly wasn’t a murder, so I didn’t see why they thought they needed to interview me.

  When they finally finished their questioning, it was beyond late. I wanted nothing more than to get in the bed, and be done with this day. I was still numb to the fact that I’d come home to find my mom dead. It didn’t seem real, and I felt like a despicable person for being happy that she was gone. She had done horrible things to me, and I didn’t have an ounce of love or even gratitude for the woman. She’d destroyed every good thing I had in life.

  “We’re going to have an autopsy done,” the police officer said, heading for the door. “We shouldn’t rule out foul play yet.”

  In other words, I was a suspect and I shouldn’t leave the state. Good to know.

  I nodded. “Okay,” I forced the word out of my mouth as the two officers descended the front steps. I closed the door, locking it.

  I turned around, my back against the door, and bile rose in my throat. I couldn’t take my eyes off the couch where she had died. I ran for the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet as I emptied my stomach contents into it. I heaved, unable to breathe, and tears stung my eyes.

  I flushed the toilet and leaned against the sink, needing the support as I brushed my teeth, and then splashed my face with cold water.

  I needed to get out of this place and find somewhere for us to live. We couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t stay here. It already held so many unpleasant memories, and knowing she had died here freaked me out even more. But it was close to midnight now, so there was no way I could find us a place to rent this late, and a hotel was too expensive. I didn’t have class tomorrow, but I did have to work. Maybe Trace would let me off early to go house hunting. I didn’t think he’d mind, especially once I informed him of the situation.

  I grabbed a hand towel, using it to dry my face. I looked in the mirror and found my eyes bloodshot, my hair hanging limply, and my face gaunt. I didn’t look good at all. The police officers probably thought I was a drug addict and killed my mother for some dumb ass reason.

  It wasn’t drugs that had made me this way.

  It was my broken heart, because I’d been foolish enough to fall in love.

  I’d never make that mistake again.

  I laid the towel aside and walked across the hall to the kids room.

  I opened the door and they both barreled into my chest.

  I wrapped my arms around them, holding on tightly, and wondering how someone couldn’t love their child.

  I hadn’t believed it was possible to fall in love, but I had always loved my sister and son. It was a different kind of love than what I felt for Trenton, but nonetheless, it was love.

  “What’s going on?” Tristan asked. “Tell me, Row!” He cried, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

  I took his small face between my hands. “Tristan,” I whispered his name, “mom’s dead.”

  His little face crumpled and he squeezed his arms tightly around my neck. “Does this mean you’re our mommy now?” He asked, his tears soaking my shirt.

  I kept quiet, because I didn’t know what to say.

  “Can we sleep in your bed tonight, Row?” Ivy asked. “I don’t want to sleep by myself,” she whispered.

  “Of course,” I replied, my eyes connecting with hers as I hugged Tristan.

  They were both already in their pajamas so I fixed them in bed, and set about fixing them something to
eat. I wasn’t hungry after everything that had happened tonight, and they probably weren’t either, but I wanted them to at least try to eat.

  I found some microwave chicken nuggets and the fries you bake in the oven. It would do in a pinch.

  As the food cooked, I carried bottles of water back to my room.

  I smiled when I saw Ivy speaking to Tristan, her arm draped protectively over his shoulder.

  I wanted so desperately to tell Tristan that I was his mom, but I wasn’t sure that was the best thing. Would it be better to let him be older before I told him? Or was now okay? There wasn’t a proper procedure for this, and I felt so clueless. I wanted someone to tell me what to do. I was sick and tired of always being the person that had to figure things out.

  Their food finished cooking and I fixed them plates. It smelled good, and I found my stomach rumbling, so what was left I put on a third plate for myself.

  “We’re having a picnic in Row’s bed!” Tristan clapped his hands.

  I laughed, shaking my head.

  The horror of our mom having been dead in the living room had already left Tristan. The woman had been awful, and children processed things differently than adults.

  I didn’t have a TV in my room, so the three of us sat lined up in my bed eating our food, and filling the silence with our chatter.

  Since the ambulance and police officers left, a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t have to lie or worry about pissing off my mom anymore. I was beginning to feel the first inkling of freedom and I wanted to grasp onto it and never let it go. I wouldn’t be imprisoned any longer.

  “What’s going to happen to us, Row?” Ivy whispered once the lights were off and we’d laid down to go to sleep. “Are they going to take us away from you?”

  I reached over Tristan’s body, since he was snuggled between us, and grasped Ivy’s hand. “I will never let anyone take you guys from me,” I spoke fiercely. “I promise.”

  “I love you,” she sniffled, and I knew she was crying.

  “I love you too.”

  chapter nineteen

  After I took the kids to school, I packed up everything that belonged to us—which wasn’t much. I had no plans of sleeping here tonight. I knew it would be pretty much impossible to find a place to rent on such short notice, but if it came to it, I knew Colleen would be happy to let us stay with her. My grandparent’s lived too far away for them to be an option, because of Tristan and Ivy being in school.