Tempting Rowan (Trace + Olivia #3) (9 page)

“Oops.” Tristan looked around. “Sowwy.”

“It’s, sorry,” I corrected. “Use your R’s.”

“Sorry?” He tilted his head. “Did I say it right?”

“Yep, you’ve got it right.”

“Does that mean I can have a cookie now?” He questioned.

“Yeah, you can have a cookie,” I smiled at him.

“Yay!” He said in a hushed whisper, waving his arms in excitement.

“Thank you,” I told Mary.

“You’re welcome,” she placed the lid back on the tin once each kid had two cookies in their hands. Whispering, she said, “Grab this on your way out. I made way too many and don’t need them.”

“I can’t take your cookies,” I shook my head.

“Thanksgiving is tomorrow, sweetie, my house is going to be full of sweets. I don’t need them.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You know you’re welcome to bring the kids and come to my house for Thanksgiving,” she offered. Mary was one of
the nicest people I’d ever met and she always wanted to help.

“
Thanks for the offer, Mary, but I’m going to make dinner for them.”

She smiled, glancing over at the kids who were sitting at one of the tables munching on their cookies. “What you do for them…it’s remarkable, Rowan.”

“Hardly,” I shrugged, brushing off her comment.

“No, really it is,” she continued. “Most
people your age…they would’ve abandoned them, saying they have parents to look after them, but not you. You stayed.”

“I have my reasons,” I murmured, staring off into space.

“Regardless,” she waved her hand in dismissal of my statement, “I’m proud of you.”

I looked up at her in surprise. Proud of me? No one had ever told me they were proud of me before.
I’d always been told I was worthless, useless, and a pain in the ass. I wasn’t called nice things, and unfortunately I was used to it. Kindness wasn’t something I experienced often, and when I did I clung to it with strong fingers. I let her words warm me all over. I didn’t know it could feel so good to have someone tell you they were proud of you. It seemed like such a simple thing to say, but it could have such a profound effect.

“I-I…thank you,” I finally said.

“For what?” She tilted her head.

“Nothing,” I
muttered. I couldn’t explain to Mary how much her words had meant to me.

I sat down at the table with Ivy and Tristan as they finished their cookies. I cleaned up their crumbs and led them to the
kids’ section.

“
There’s so many books, Row,” Tristan looked around in awe.

“There
are
so many books,” I corrected.

“How do you expect me to choose just on
e?” He frowned. “I want all of them,” he put his hands on his small hips.

“Well,” I bent down, keeping an eye on Ivy, “you pick one now, we read it, and then we bring it back and you get to choose another.”

His lower lip jutted out. “Can I get two? Please?”

“Yes, you can get two.” It had been relatively easy to deny him a chocolate bar, but a book? No way was I telling the kid he couldn’t have two books.

“Yay! I love you, Row,” he wrapped his tiny arms around my neck.

I squeezed him tight, inhaling the scent of his baby shampoo. I wished he could stay this little forever—naïve of all the bad in the world.

“You’re the bestest big sister,” he kissed my cheek.

“Let’s get your books picked out. The library is closing early,” I told him, pulling his shirt down to cover his
stomach.

I let the kids each pick two books and play in the kids’ area for a litt
le while. I sat against a shelf with my legs brought up. I draped my arms over my knees. I watched them play and talk about their books, my heart swelling with pride. I didn’t understand how someone like my mother could birth a child and not care about them. I knew there were plenty of other parents exactly like my mom, and my heart broke for those children. A child deserves to be loved, and without it, they’ll shrivel into nothing—I think that’s what happened to me. Without the love of my mom or any parental figure, I’d missed out on some fundamental development. I was closed off and emotionless. I knew it, and yet I could do nothing to stop it. Maybe one day I could learn how to feel, but I didn’t see it happening any time soon.

I watched the clock, giving Tristan and Ivy a five-minute warning that we needed to leave. Neither was ready to go back home. Like me, they found solace in the peaceful library.

“Alright, guys,” I stood, dusting lint off my jeans, “we have to go.”

Neither gave much protest, but they did frown, their heads slightly bowed.

I let them hand their books to Mary for her to scan them. She handed them back and thrust the tin of cookies at me, lest I forget it. “Have a good Thanksgiving,” she smiled pleasantly, “and the offer’s still open if you want to come to my house.”

“Thank you,” I told her as I took Tristan’s hand. “We’ll be fine though.”

We headed straight home and I cringed when I saw my step-dad’s truck sitting in the driveway. The last thing I needed was to deal with him.

The kids helped me carry the groc
eries inside. When I passed Jim his hand shot out grazing the side of my butt. I cringed, bile rising in my throat. I wanted him gone from my life—him and my mom. I wanted to erase all the bad.

“You been to the grocery store?” He asked, spitting into a can and scratching his round beer belly.

I bit my tongue to keep from correcting his grammar. “Obviously,” I said instead, my tone short and clipped.

He tilted his head, his hairy brows furrowing together. “Don’t sass me,” he warned. “You know how I feel about that,” he said in his thick southern drawl. I think Jim was from Alabama—I didn’t really know, and frankly didn’t care.

I said nothing, heading into the kitchen and sitting the bags on the counter.

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

I took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm myself. I felt like I was suffocating under the stress of being stuck in this house. I wanted out. I wanted to break down the walls and run away, never to return.
It wasn’t that easy though, nothing ever was. I wouldn’t stop trying to get away. My eyes landed on Tristan and Ivy. They deserved more than this shitty house and life. They deserved to have toys like other kids, and chocolate bars, but most importantly they deserved a future my mom could never give them. I didn’t want them to have to work as hard as I did. I wanted them to have the chance to be kids and normal teenagers.

“Row?” I shook my head clear of my thoughts and looked down to see Tristan tugging on my sweater.

“What?” I asked.

“You did it again,” he whispered, like he was letting me in on a secret.

“Did what?” I asked puzzled.

“You left me…” He shrugged his small shoulders. “Sometimes you leave, and I’m scared you’re not coming back.”

“But I didn’t leave,” I lowered, wrapping my arms around him, “I would never leave you, Tristan.”

“He’s talking about when you zone out,” Ivy piped in, removing a box of stuffing from one of the plastic bags.

“You do it a lot,” Tristan nodded. “I don’t like it.”

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing it,” I took his small face between my hands, looking into his blue eyes. “I’ll try not to do it again,” I assured him with a light kiss to the end of his nose.

“Stop babying the boy,” Jim said loudly as he entered the kitchen. “If you
want him to grow up to be a man you’ve got to treat him like one.” He reached into the refrigerator for a beer. He took several long gulps and let out an obnoxious burp.

“I don’t need your advice,” I snapped. “I certainly don’t want him turning out like you.”

Jim’s eyes flashed with anger. “I might not be the boy’s father, but treatin’ him like a fucking fairy princess isn’t helpin’ him.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from saying anything
else. I knew if I ran my mouth it would only serve to get me in trouble later.

With his beer in hand, Jim headed back to the living room and to his beloved recliner. My mom was already passed out on the couch. One of these days she wasn’t go
ing to wake up—I was sure of it, and I didn’t care. I don’t know what that said about me.

With Ivy’s help I got all the groceries put away.

“Can I help you make dinner tomorrow?” She asked, bashfully looking at the ground.

“Of course,” I said brightly, “I’d love your help.”

“Can I help too?” Tristan piped in.

“Yep,” I lightly poked his tummy, making him giggle. “I like it when you guys help me. You’re the best helpers I know.”

“We are?” Tristan asked with bright round eyes.

I nodded. “The best.”

His small lips turned down in a frown. “Shouldn’t we get a sticker? My teacher always gives me a sticker when I’m a good helper.”

That got me to laugh. “Sorry, I’m fresh out of stickers, but not kisses.” I grabbed him before he could run away and smacked my lips against his cheek.

“Ew, Row! You got lipstick on me!” He tried to wipe off the pink imprint left behind on his chubby cheek.

“It looks good on you,” I joked.

“It’s gross.” He sent me the meanest glare he could muster, which was hardly a glare at all. I didn’t think Tristan had a mean bone in his body.

“Fine then, I’ll wipe it off,” I stood and led him over to the sink. I wet a dishtowel and wiped the lipstick from his cheek. “All gone.”

“I wish y’all would shut up!” Jim yelled. “I can’t hear the damn TV!”

Tristan looked at me with wide eyes. “He said a bad word. He should get soap in his mouth,” he whispered.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Since Jim is cranky, why don’t we go do something in your room,” I suggested. “I can play a game with you guys,” I looked up at Ivy so she’d know I wasn’t only speaking to Tristan.

“Can we build a fort?” Tristan asked excitedly. “I love forts!”

“We can build a fort,” I replied, smiling at his jubilance. Little kids, I had learned, didn’t need much to make them happy. Some parents thought tossing a shiny new toy at a kid was what they wanted. That wasn’t true. All a child wanted was someone to love them, to play with them, to make them feel special. I knew that from watching Ivy and Tristan. I’d also learned from my own experience. As a child, all I had wanted was for my mom to
notice
me. To be more than a nuisance. It never happened though. I was always in the way. That’s what made me determined to make Tristan and Ivy’s childhood better than mine. I never wanted them to feel unloved or uncared for. I wanted them to know they were special, because it was true. Every child is special. A gift.

Tristan held out his small hand and led me to the bedroom he shared with Ivy.

I spent hours making forts and playing with dinosaurs beneath them. I understood the appeal to building a fort. You could pretend you lived in a different world, a world where nothing could touch you, and bad guys didn’t exist. The blankets served as a cocoon, protecting you from everything evil. You couldn’t stay hidden forever though and eventually the bad guys would find you. They always did.




“This dinner looks tasty,” Jim patted his round stomach as I leaned over to place the turkey on the table. As I pulled back his fingers
grazed my breasts. I shuddered in response, revulsion clinging to me like the tendrils of vines.

I started counting in my head so that I didn’t do or say something that would get me in trouble.

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

After the
numbers flitted through my mind I felt calmer and more centered.

Since a card table served as our dining table, I chose to stand by th
e counter with my plate of food after I’d helped Ivy and Tristan with theirs. Besides, I didn’t want to be near Jim anyway…or my mom. I was surprised she was actually eating something and not already passed out.

We all ate in silence. We didn’t have anything to talk about, so there was no point in making idle chat. Even Ivy and Tristan said nothing.

My mom’s fork clattered to the ground. “Fuck!” She exclaimed, her face going red with anger. She always got so angry over the dumbest things. “Rowan! Get that!”

I sighed,
sitting my plate down. I wanted to tell her to get it herself, but I’d rather avoid an argument.

I got down on my hands and knees, crawling beneath the table to retrieve the fork that was right beside her foot. I grabbed the fork and started to back out. My movements halted momentarily when Jim’s hand landed firmly on my butt, squeezing. Oh, hell no. I was tempted to pierce his bare foot with the fork in my hand for that one.

“Ew! Jim has his hand on Row’s butt!” Tristan exclaimed.

I hastily scooted all the way out and jumped up, tossing the dirty fork in the sink and grabbing a new one for my mom. She snatched it out of my hand so quickly that the prongs scratched my skin. “You little whore,” she seethed, “always
enticing the men, even my husband.” Her hazel eyes—the exact same shade as mine—were full of hate. Of course she’d consider Jim touching my butt
my
fault, instead of seeing that the guy was a scumbag. Her thought process was so twisted. I preferred her when she was too drunk to cause trouble. She was ridiculous.