by E M Lindsey
James nodded, confused why Rowan was throwing himself into this so hard, but he supposed he might do the same if the situation ever presented itself. There was a fat chance he had some unknown sibling out there, but stranger things were known to happen.
Flipping through files, most of them were mortgage records, repair estimates, stuff for her old car that he was pretty sure no one owned anymore. Standard living stuff that a person always thought they’d need, and never did.
It wasn’t until he pulled out an unmarked folder from the fourth box that he froze. Inside were papers he recognized. They were court documents, and he didn’t want to pry, so he cleared his throat and handed them over. “I didn’t look,” he said as Rowan took them.
Rowan didn’t say anything, his eyes moving quickly across the page, widening, and then his cheeks went pale. “Fuck,” he breathed out, long, slow sound.
“Darlin’?” James asked softly.
Rowan looked up, a little bit of panic in his eyes. “She was…” He cleared his throat, rubbing a dusty hand across his forehead. “She pressed charges against a man named Milton Cooper. For sexual assault.”
James felt his heart speed up. “You don’t think…”
“The dates match,” Rowan said. His tone was tense, his hands shaking a little as he flipped through the pages. “She…I think she won. It looks like it. These were so fucking long ago—hand-typed. Jesus.” He made it to the end of the stack, then looked up again. “I’ll have Rob do some digging—if he hasn’t found this already. I don’t know what’s on her birth certificate, but if this guy is listed, she might already know.”
“Ain’t that a kick in the teeth,” James said, shaking his head. “Findin’ out your daddy’s a rapist.”
Rowan shuddered. “I thought mine was bad.” His laugh was a little choked as he rubbed at his eyes. “I keep wondering if he’s going to show up at the funeral.”
James cocked his head to the side, a little surprised. He knew Rowan’s mom had died when he was young, but he realized he’d never mentioned his dad. “Is that…something that might actually happen?”
Rowan leaned back against his hands, his eyes falling closed. “Maybe, I don’t know. I can’t actually remember him, but my mom said he used to show up to harass my birth mom from time to time before Marie took custody of me. She never said directly, but I think he showed up a few times after, but she always kept him away. Wouldn’t surprise me if she paid him off.”
James felt his stomach twist. His own childhood had been no picnic, but it was nothing like this. He felt alone, but he’d never been alone, not the way Rowan had. He vowed right then to make sure the other man never felt like that again. Setting the box aside, James shifted over, then carefully urged Rowan to lean against him. Rowan gave in, letting out a huffing laugh as he turned his face into James’ shoulder and breathed in.
“Sorry,” Rowan said after a moment.
“You got nothing to be sorry for, darlin’,” James murmured. He turned his head and nosed along Rowan’s hair which was just long enough it was starting to curl at the ends. “You wanna take this up and get ahold of Rob, or you wanna keep lookin’?”
Rowan was quiet for so long, James wasn’t sure the man was going to answer him. But after a while, he let out a slow breath and sat up. “I should finish up here. I mean, I need to decide what the hell I’m going to do with all this stuff when I sell this place. I don’t…fuck, I don’t even know what’s important, and now I have some kid,” he stopped and laughed, “shit, she’s not even a kid, she’s older than I am—and she might want some of this. It might help her.”
James stopped him before Rowan could climb to his feet, gently curling his fingers around the other man’s wrist. “You don’t owe her anything. Your momma made her choice—for whatever reason she made it…”
“I think we both know why she gave her up,” Rowan said bitterly.
James shrugged. “Its’s all well and good to speculate, but we don’t actually know. She was real young, and probably real scared. And she made the best choice at the time for this girl. But that choice doesn’t make this woman entitled to things that are yours. It don’t matter what some judge said twenty years ago, darlin’. She was your momma, and this stuff—she left it to you.”
Rowan looked at him a long time, his eyes red-rimmed and watery, though he wasn’t crying. “I feel so out of my depth. It’s…it’s fucking ridiculous,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I’m a fucking lawyer—I deal with crap like this all the time, but suddenly it’s me and my mom and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing!”
There was a note of hysteria in his voice which went straight to James’ heart, and he acted. He rose to his feet as gracefully as he could manage, then tugged Rowan with him. As he pulled them along toward the stairs, Rowan tugged back.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
James turned to face him, taking a few steps forward and backing him into the wall. “You have time for all this later. But not right now. Right now, you’re in pain, and you don’t need to be making decisions while you’re still processing the death of your parent.” He moved his hand to Rowan’s cheek, cupping it softly. “Right now, we’re gonna get something to eat. Then we’re gonna go out and do something that doesn’t involve thinking about any of this. Then we’ll come home and I’m going to fuck you hard and slow, and tomorrow, we start again.”
Rowan swallowed thickly, a few tears escaping his eyes, but he relaxed like a weight had been lifted off him. He leaned his face into James’ palm and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
It wasn’t much, but it was all James had to offer, and he was more than happy Rowan took it.
* * *
Rowan woke the next morning feeling better than he had in a while. Sore in all the right places, rested—even if sleep had come at the swallow of a mild sedative—and his head had cleared some. He knew he was going to be up and down when it came to finishing up his mom’s estate. Rob hadn’t gotten back to him on Anna, and the funeral was just around the corner. He was fielding RSVP phone calls, which forced him into awkward conversation with distant family members—half of whom insisted on bringing up his bio mom’s funeral, which he barely remembered, and that wasn’t doing his psyche much good. But James was with him the entire time, and that helped.
He was starting to feel insecure about his return to Denver, but he had a feeling it was the grief creeping in and messing with his head. Maybe it would have been easier if anyone in his past besides his mother had ever offered him a home, but any place he’d settled, he’d carved out for himself. This thing with James—not just the relationship, but everything that came with it—was painfully new and strange.
For all that James had been a virgin in bed, Rowan was a virgin to being loved, and loving in return. When he had space to think about it, between the moments of chaos, he wondered if it was real. Maybe it was pity, maybe James couldn’t separate love from lust or infatuation.
He felt like a dick for questioning his lover, but his mind wasn’t exactly right, and he didn’t know how to get himself thinking straight again. For now, he would take whatever James was offering, and he’d figure out the rest when the time came.
The day before the funeral, Rowan found himself standing outside Rob’s office, waiting to get through their second to last meeting. James was across the street picking up a few things they needed at the supermarket, and Rowan’s intention was to make this quick. He had spent some time in his mom’s basement—late at night when even the drugs weren’t enough to take away the restlessness in his bones— and he’d sorted most of what she’d left behind.
His mother’s tendencies to keep everything led to half the boxes being marked for trash. She’d kept every receipt and every invoice for everything done to the house in the thirty years she’d owned it. The new owners—whoever they ended up being—wouldn’t need any of it. The other half was stuff he wanted to keep himself, and some he thought Anna could use. He wasn’t su
re what he was going to do about the assault case, though Rob said he’d found some information in old records, and that was the second thing they were going to talk about.
In truth, Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about his mother’s rape, and the child that likely resulted from that, but he knew he owed it to her to see this through. Taking a breath, he walked in, nodding to the secretary before making his way back.
Rob was behind his desk, tapping slowly at his keyboard, and he smiled when Rowan walked in. “Do you want some coffee? I was just about to send Meghan on a latte run.”
Rowan shook his head. “I’ve had way too much already, but thanks.”
Rob shrugged, then gave his order before returning to his desk. His face went from polite to pensive, and Rowan braced himself for the impact. “She wants to come to the funeral.”
Rowan blinked, then realized he was talking about Anna. “Oh. Uh.”
“She’s offering to sit in the back and keep her relation to Marie a secret, but she wants to be there. I told her it was up to you, but the funeral was published in her obit, so she already knows the date and time,” Rob said, his tone almost apologetic.
Rowan shook his head. “No that’s…whatever. It’s fine. It’s not going to be long anyway, and I don’t have anything to do with the wake.”
Rob nodded, making a note on his pad before looking back up. His pensive look had shifted to something more serious, and Rowan knew what was coming now. “I managed to get what I could from old records. They weren’t sealed, but they were buried, and it was a pain in the ass. They settled out of court. The defendant took a plea deal, served just over two-hundred days, and was required to register as a sex offender going forward.”
Rowan felt his stomach twist. “That’s it? Two hundred days was enough for what he did?”
Rob’s face fell a little, and he nodded. “He died two years ago. Cancer.”
“Good,” Rowan spat, unable to stop himself. “I hope it fucking hurt at the end.”
It was a mark of his professionalism that Rob didn’t really react much, apart from giving Rowan a sharp nod. “I don’t think Ms. Grant is aware of her father, and I thought I’d leave that up to you if you want to offer the information.”
Rowan wanted to fall forward and bash his head on the desk. He hadn’t fucking signed up for any of this. All he’d wanted was a mother who wasn’t shooting up every hour, one that didn’t die in a puddle of her own vomit. He hadn’t asked for Marie to take him, then get sick and have him ripped away. He hadn’t asked for her illness for force him into choosing the day she died. He certainly hadn’t fucking asked for her past assault to creep up and make him responsible for telling a woman that her father had been nothing more than a vicious monster.
He suddenly wished James was there with him, but a small part of him was glad his lover wasn’t seeing him at his absolute worst. He sniffed, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling, willing his tears back. “I’ll…think about it, I guess. Though I’m not sure what choice I have.”
“You have every choice,” Rob told him. “You can tell her you don’t know and let her do her own digging. She knows some of what you’ve been through. She knows you were with Marie for only a short time before CPS took you.”
Rowan nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I think I need some time.”
“You have as much as you’ll give yourself,” Rob told him matter-of-factly. “Monday, I’d like to discuss the house sale, and closing her estate. The retainer is enough to cover those final costs, and I’m not taking a percentage of what the house goes for.”
Rowan shrugged, really wishing he could just sell the house and shove all the money at Rob for everything he’d done. “Can you find me someone who can get this house into the hands of someone who needs it? Maybe a young family with disabled parents? I just…she put so much work into it, and it deserves to have someone who needs it.”
Rob blinked, then smiled softly and nodded. “I think I might know someone. I’ll shoot him an email and call you when I hear back?”
“Great,” Rowan said. “Anything else?”
Rob shook his head. “You’ll forgive me for not showing up to the funeral? In all honesty, I could never stomach them. I prefer to grieve in my own way.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me. You’ve been a rock through all of this, and I can’t be more grateful.” Rowan extended his hand, then let himself out, not looking back. He made it to the parking lot, and saw James making his way out of the shop, his heart beating hard in his chest. He still couldn’t shake the guilt for being so damned happy right then, on the heels of his mother’s death, but he couldn’t help it. This was everything he never thought he’d get—everything his mother had wanted for him.
He stepped aside so James could load everything into the back seat, but before he could head to the passenger side of the car, Rowan reached for him, pulling him into a kiss. He felt utterly unapologetic about kissing James slow and deep, right there in the middle of the parking lot like nothing else mattered. He sighed when James stroked his fingertips down his cheeks, then pulled away gently.
“What was that for?” James asked, his mouth curved up in a smile.
Rowan shrugged. “Because I…because I can. I wanted to, and I can.”
“Well, of course you can, darlin’. I’m yours, after all.” James huffed a laugh, leaning in to steal a quick peck before walking around to the other side, and he was buckling up as Rowan slid in beside him. The car was ice cold from the winter chill, but he got the heater going quickly, and as they pulled out onto the street, James reached over the gear shift and tangled their fingers together.
“The guys say hi,” James told him softly. “Sam called while I was checking out.”
“Is everything okay?” Rowan asked, his pang of worry flaring up. No one should be able to get between him and Maisy again, but Rowan also didn’t trust the system.
James nodded. “All good, darlin’. They’re just not used to me being away for so long.”
Rowan felt that pang of guilt again, and breathed through it. “Look, this is going to take a while, so if you need to get back…”
“I might,” James admitted, making Rowan wince. “Not because I want to, but I do have a shop to run. I got time, though.” He lifted Rowan’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist, and it helped ease the sting a little bit. “We’ll talk after the funeral.”
Rowan nodded, not trusting himself to speak just then. He had so much to consider—with Marie’s daughter showing up, with everything else he’d learned, with family who would want to pick at Marie’s things like it was a damn rummage sale with the excuse that they wanted to remember her instead of just looking for something with value.
He was profoundly grateful that James was with him, and would be until this was over. If James had to go back after, Rowan would deal. At the very least, it would be something to come home to, and it was a strange but welcome feeling. One he was unused to, but one he hoped would get more familiar as the years went by.
Chapter Twenty-Two
22
For something short and to the point, Rowan had never felt such chaos at a funeral before. The little hall held forty people, and just over half the seats were filled. Faces Rowan had seen once or twice in his lifetime smiled at him, kissing his cheeks, telling him how much they were going to miss sweet Marie.
He did his best to control both is nausea and his rage, and took comfort in the occasional smiles and fleeing touches from James who hovered just at the periphery of the events. The pastor who did the services kept it fairly secular, and Rowan closed his eyes against tears when a few of Marie’s cousins got up to talk about her childhood. The pastor had asked him if he planned to say anything, and it wasn’t until the moment he was meant to get up there that he realized he had the strength for it.
It was overwhelming, to look over the sea of faces that meant nothing to him during a lifetime of being
separated from his mom, but he tried not to let the bitterness creep in when he cleared his throat and started to talk. “My mom was one of the most unique people I’ve ever met. She plucked a scared kid out of a bad situation when no one else was willing to step in,” he couldn’t help the dig, “and she was rewarded for that selflessness and love by having that child ripped away from her the moment she was considered useless to society. In spite of that, my mom stayed strong. She welcomed me home the second I was allowed to be with her, and stood by me through my failures and successes. She gave me the strength to pursue my own happiness—even when I was sure I didn’t deserve it.” He sniffed, his throat thick, but he willed himself to finish. “She deserved better than she got, and I like to think she’s somewhere peaceful.”
It was all he had. It wasn’t clever, full of funny little inside jokes for the family to laugh at. It was simple and to the point. His mom had been the only one to give a shit about him, and she had died young. Maybe not impossibly young— maybe not the sort of young where people gasp and shake their heads in sadness because she had so much more to give to the world—but young enough. She could have met grandchildren, she could have sold her house and moved close to Rowan and seen him happy.
If only he’d pulled his head out of his ass sooner. But he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He reached over and let James take his hand, solid in his resolve to see this through— to love and let himself be loved.
The funeral was concluded with a little slide-show, mostly of Marie as a little girl, and a few photographs of Rowan when he was small. When it ended, he followed the required protocol to stand up front as the people filed past him, offering him false condolences.
“So, did uh…did anyone show up you were worried about?” James murmured, leaning into him as Rowan shook some random cousin’s hand.
