I packed what I could into my car, having to leave some things behind because there wasn’t room. Once I found a place to stay it would only take one more trip back here to have everything.
Even though I’d showered, I felt dirty from having been in that house. Its nastiness clung to me and I wanted it off—but that wouldn’t happen until I was gone and never had to come back.
I was thankful that I only had to work today and didn’t have classes. I didn’t need the added stress on top of what I already had to deal with.
My mom was dead—this lone thought playing on repeat in my mind.
I think a part of me was still shocked.
I’d believed someone as vile and despicable as her would never die. I felt like she’d stick around, always reminding me of my sins, and what I lost.
But she was gone, and I was free of my binds. I could be Tristan’s mother. I didn’t have to lie, or disappear from his life when it became unacceptable for me to be there if he believed I was merely his sister.
Now that Trenton knew the truth, and Tristan would know soon, I felt…at peace.
The moment I signed those damn papers, I lost my freedom. Now, thanks to a stroke of luck, I had it back. I had been stuck in a prison for so long, that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t have to work so hard now, and hide money, because I didn’t have to fight for custody.
Everything was falling into place for me.
Well, almost everything.
I had lost Trenton, and I was never getting him back, so there would always be damage to my heart.
That was okay, though, because I no longer had to live a lie. The truth was out there and I didn’t have to hide behind the story I’d been coerced into telling.
It didn’t take me long to get to work. Trace was already there, his boots sticking out from beneath the car he was working on.
I inhaled the scent of motor oil—something that had become familiar to me in the short time I had been working here.
“Can I ask you something?” My voice was hesitant as I stopped beside the car.
“Sure,” he slid out, scaring me half to death with how quickly he did it. “What’s up?” He grinned, running his fingers through his unruly hair. Trace was always so…unusually peppy. Did the guy ever get mad?
“My mom died last night,” the words slipped from my mouth. That was not what I’d been planning to say.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he jumped up, his arms winding around me before I knew what he was doing. I couldn’t make myself hug him back, I was so in shock by the gesture.
“Don’t be sorry,” I muttered. “Seriously,” I stared at the ground, frowning.
“Oh…” He paused. “Was she…not a good mom?”
I laughed at his awkward question. “You could say that.”
“Do you need the day off?” He asked. “You could’ve called me. You didn’t need to come in.”
“I know,” I shrugged, still looking at the ground. “I wanted to come in though. Work will help take my mind off things,” I forced a smile. “I was wondering if I could leave early though? I need to find a place for us to live. I can’t stay in that house.”
Trace’s eyes filled with sympathy and compassion. “Of course,” he told me without any hesitation. “Wait…” He paused and for a moment I thought he had changed his mind and my stomach dipped with worry. “I might have a solution to your problem?”
“Really?” I was a bit afraid as to what his solution was. There was no way I was staying with his mom and grandma at the mansion or at Trent’s townhouse. Even if he was away at school that would be beyond awkward.
“Follow me,” he stepped around me, striding out of the garage. He didn’t look back to see if I was coming, he knew I would.
He led me around the side of the building and up a set of steps to the floor above the shop. I didn’t know what was up here and never bothered to ask. He dug a key out of his pocket and opened the door.
He reached inside, flicking a light on, then reached out and grabbed my arm to yank me inside. I stumbled, and he tightened his hold so that I didn’t fall.
It was a small apartment. The kitchen was surprisingly nice and clean. I saw a bedroom and a bathroom to my right and the living room was straight ahead.
“You guys can stay here,” he beamed, his hands resting on his hips. “I know there’s only one bedroom, but for a temporary thing, it’ll work. I can get some bunk beds for your sister and Tristan, and they can go here,” he pointed to the space where a dining table had probably once sat. “This is where I used to live,” he smiled, looking around the place with a fond look in his eyes. “I like it. Once Olivia got pregnant though, it wasn’t suitable for a newborn,” he shrugged.
“How much?” I asked.
“Huh?” His brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”
“How much do you want to rent it out for?” I clarified.
He looked at me like I had lost my mind. “I don’t want anything.”
“Trace,” I groaned, knowing I was going to have to fight him on this, “I have to pay you something. I won’t feel right if I don’t.”
“Rowan,” he said my name slowly, staring me down with unwavering green eyes, “this place is sitting here empty and I’m not making any money off of it. You’re not paying me.”
“I have to pay you,” I whispered, crossing my arms over my chest. “I won’t feel right if I don’t. You already let me keep my job, and after everything that’s happened with your brother, I won’t feel right if I don’t.”
He shook his head back and forth forcibly, like a child would. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ as he rocked back on his heels.
“Well,” I turned to leave, “I’ll find somewhere else.”
“Wait!” He reached out, grabbing my arm. “Tristan is my nephew, please let me help.” His eyes pleaded with me to give in. “I want to know that you’re all safe. Not just him, but you and your sister too.”
When he put it that way I didn’t see how I could say no. I’d been forced to keep Tristan from him and his family long enough. I didn’t need to do it anymore.
“Fine,” I relinquished. “But if you change your mind and want me to pay, just say so.”
“I won’t change my mind,” he winked, tossing his arm over my shoulders like we were old friends as we walked out the door. “Luca will be here any minute. I’ll leave him here, and we’ll get your things packed and moved in.”
“I already packed everything,” I admitted, shrugging off his arm as I descended the steps. “Most of it’s already in my car, I couldn’t fit everything, but there’s not a lot left.”
It was really quite sad how little the three of us had.
“Cool,” he rubbed his hands together. “We’ll get your car unloaded and you can go get the rest of your stuff.”
“Thank you,” I told him, finally allowing myself to sigh in relief. I had a place to stay with the kids. We didn’t have to spend one more night in that house that haunted me. We could start over new.
“You don’t ever need to thank me,” he smiled, walking towards my parked car.
“Yes, I do, believe me,” I muttered under my breath. Trace didn’t understand how much his simple acts of kindness had meant to me. “It’s unlocked,” I told him, since he stood by my car waiting. I hadn’t bothered to lock the piece of junk when I arrived at work.
He opened the back door, grabbing one of the clear plastic bins I’d used to pack our stuff. I hadn’t had boxes and I’d gotten crafty.
“These are heavy,” he said, unnecessarily, seeing as how I’d loaded them in the car and knew what they weighed, “so let me carry them. It’s a long way to the apartment.”
He was right, but I hated being useless. As soon as his back was turned, I grabbed one.
I knew I wouldn’t make it up the steps without dropping it and spilling the contents, so I left it at the bottom of the steps. At least he wouldn’t have to walk as far with it. That counted
for something.
I unloaded the rest and found Trace waiting for me, staring at the bins as he shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you not to help?” He eyed me, a smile playing on his lips—lips so similar to the ones I missed.
I forced a smile, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I’m not the type to sit back and not do anything. I have to help.”
“I’ve figured that out,” he laughed, wetting his lips. “I’ll get these brought inside, why don’t you head home and get the rest?”
“I can do it later,” I shoved my hands in my back pockets. “I need to work.”
He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Take today off. Get your stuff, come back, unpack, and get yourself settled. Make a home for my nephew,” he grinned.
How could I argue with that? The man knew how to guilt trip me.
I nodded. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time,” he shrugged, tapping his fingers on the stair railing. “We’ll be fine here.”
I didn’t reply. I was overwhelmed by Trace’s generosity, especially considering I’d kept Tristan a secret. Trace was an understanding guy, though. He didn’t hold grudges.
I wished Trenton were the same way.
I didn’t expect, or deserve, forgiveness for what I had done. Still, I would’ve loved to hear from him, something…anything. Hell, I would have been happy with an angry phone call at this point. I wanted him to acknowledge my existence. Selfish, I know, considering what I had done. But love made you that way. Even if the other person hated you, you still wanted them.
I packed up the last of our things. Jim wasn’t home, and I had no idea where he was, nor did I care. He was a piece of shit, and I was glad I could be rid of him and my mom. This was my chance at a clean slate. A new Rowan Sinclair was emerging.
I didn’t have to lie and deceive anymore—and that was a really good feeling.
I loaded the last of our things up and didn’t bother looking back at the house as I left. I was closing this chapter on my life, and starting a whole new one…I only hoped it got better.
“This is our new home?” Tristan asked as I opened the door to the apartment. He clutched his stuffed dinosaur tightly in his hand, his eyes taking in the new space.
Ivy looked around, much the same way, a Barbie doll dangling from her fingers.
After everything that had happened last night, I’d decided to indulge and taken them to Target to get a new toy and then out to dinner at a nice restaurant.
“Yep,” I turned on the light, “this is our new home.”
I gasped when I spotted the bunk bed. Trace hadn’t been kidding.
Tears pricked my eyes at his kindness. While I’d been gone, he’d bought a bed and put it together for the kids. Wow. To say I was touched didn’t even cover the way I felt.
“Are those for us?” Tristan’s eyes lit up when he spotted the bunk bed. He danced excitedly on the balls of his feet as he pointed at it.
“It sure is,” I smiled.
Tristan giggled, running for the bed. “I get the top!” He shrieked.
I knew Ivy would want the bottom bunk anyway, since she was afraid of heights.
I set the groceries I’d picked up on the counter and then began un-bagging them. I hadn’t gotten much, so it didn’t take me long to put everything away.
Once the food was in its proper place I scoured the bins for the kids bedding. I finally found it—in the last bin I checked—and forced them to vacate the bed.
Tristan pouted, upset at being evicted from his new favorite place.
“Don’t you want your sheets on the bed?” I asked when he kept staring at me with mopey eyes as I made Ivy’s bed.
He nodded. “I guess so,” his fingers tightened around his stuffed green and orange dinosaur.
My breath caught for a moment as I looked at him. I so desperately wanted to tell him the truth—so why not tonight? What difference would waiting make? It wasn’t like the woman he believed was his mom had ever acted as such. I was scared to tell him though. He was a child, and they could be so incredibly fragile. I didn’t want to cause him pain. I had only ever wanted to protect him, which had led to the adoption in the first place. That had been a major screw-up, so I didn’t want the same thing to happen again. I felt that waiting until he was older would only bring more heartbreak. There had been enough lies, and I’d carried them for so long. I was ending this tonight.
The new Rowan Sinclair wasn’t going to keep quiet.
I finished making their beds and turned on the TV that had been left in the apartment from when Trace lived here. There was also a couch, and a bed was in the bedroom. Everything else had been cleared away.
As soon as I sat down, Ivy cuddled against one side, and Tristan burrowed against my other. I guessed playing on his new bunk bed wasn’t a priority anymore.
I ran my fingers through his light hair and kissed the top of his head. I loved him so much—and that love had led me to make the worst decision of my life. I’d thought I was doing the right thing though.
“Tristan,” I swallowed thickly as his blue eyes—Trent’s eyes—raised to meet mine. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I spoke. God, this was hard.
Ivy sat up too, watching me curiously. She knew from my tone that I had something important to say.
I didn’t know quite how to approach this. Shit. I should’ve googled this or read a book about it. I was sorely unprepared to have this profound conversation with my son.
Finally, I reached out, lovingly stroking his cheek. “A long time ago, I had a baby,” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, “a baby boy.”
“You had a baby?” Ivy gasped.
“Baby? Where?” Tristan looked over his shoulder like one was magically going to appear.
“Here,” I tapped his chest.
“The baby’s inside me?” His light brows wrinkled together, looking like a fuzzy caterpillar.
“No, silly,” I couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re the baby.”
“I’m the baby? I’m not a baby, Row.” He shook his head in disgust that I would suggest such a thing.
“Not now, but once you were a baby. My baby. I carried you in my tummy,” I touched my stomach.
Tristan reached out, his little fingers touching my now flat stomach through the soft cotton of my shirt. “I was in there?” He tilted his head.
“Mhmm,” I nodded. “I was a kid myself,” I brushed his hair out of his eyes, “and didn’t think I could take care of you. So, my mommy became your mommy. She adopted you.”
“Huh?” He questioned.
I shook my head. At his age, there was no need to go into detail. He wouldn’t understand.
“What I’m trying to say, Tristan, is that I’m your mommy.” I couldn’t hold back my sob. When had I turned into such a blubbering mess? I didn’t like this new development.
Tristan grinned, showcasing his slightly crooked little white teeth. “I always knew you were my real mommy.” He surprised me by flying at me with open arms. I wrapped mine around him, holding on tight. I never wanted to let him go. I wanted to cling to him forever.
“Does this mean you’re my mommy too?” Ivy’s soft voice spoke up.
I looked over at her, not releasing my son, and found her crying little sniffling tears.
I frowned, wanting to cry harder for my sister. “No, sweetie.”
Her face crumpled. “I want you to be my mommy too!”
I let go of Tristan with one hand, and wrapped it around her, pulling her in for a group hug. “I am, Ivy. In all the ways that count, I am your mom. It isn’t blood that makes someone a mother, it’s how they care about you,” I dotted kisses all over the top of her head.
The three of us continued to cry, clinging to each other.
I was glad Tristan knew the truth, that they both did.
Now, it would be easy to move on…I hoped.
<
br /> chapter twenty
“Why do we have to go?” Tristan stomped his feet as I tried to fix him in his dress clothes.
I was losing my patience with him.
I had been trying to get him ready for my mom’s funeral for the last twenty minutes and he was being impossible.
“Because, she’s my mom and your grandma. It would be wrong not to go,” I explained, trying to get his pants on but he was wiggling too much.
“She was mean! I don’t want to go!”
“Tristan,” I warned.
Somebody knocked on the door and Tristan scampered away, courtesy of my distraction.
I groaned, rising to my feet, and striding across the small apartment to see who was there.
I wasn’t surprised to find Trace standing there in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt.
“Hey,” I ran my fingers through my hair to get the long strands out of my line of vision. “We’re not quite ready yet,” I pointed over my shoulder at the shrieking Tristan, who was running around in nothing but a pair of robot underwear.
“Uncle Trace!” He shrieked, running towards the door.
“Hey, buddy,” Trace bent down, scooping Tristan into his arms. “Dude,” he tickled my son’s stomach, “why are you naked?”
“I’m not naked, silly,” Tristan giggled, “I’ve got my big boy underwear on.”
“That you do,” Trace laughed, walking into the apartment. “I wish Dean wore those.”
“But Dean’s a baby!” Tristan screamed exuberantly.
“I still wish he didn’t poop himself,” Trace groaned, spinning Tristan through the air before dropping him on the couch, much to the boy’s delight.
“Mommy! Uncle Trace said poop!”
I dropped my head in my hands. I didn’t think Trace showing up was going to help things.
“Yeah, yeah,” Trace groaned, reaching for the clothes on the floor that I’d been trying to wrestle Tristan into wearing. “It’s time to get you dressed.”
Tempting Rowan Page 26
