Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Rowan
My body is screaming at me this morning as I lie in bed, like every piece that holds me together is sitting at a low burn, even down to my fingertips. I groan as I get up, both from pain and from the dread of going to the office today.
It’s not like my job is all that physically intensive, but the last time this happened, I passed out in Colt’s office, and I still haven’t gotten over the embarrassment of that. I really would rather avoid a repeat; and I don’t miss work. I show up for my obligations, no matter what.
Despite how crappy I feel, I get up and grab my cane for support, then make the long trek from my bedroom to the dining room, following the familiar smell of Colt’s morning espresso. He sits at the table, reading the news on his phone, just like he does every morning.
“Morning! Happy Wednesday,” I sing to him.
“Happy Wednesday, Rowan.” Keeping his head down, face toward his phone, he lifts his eyes to look at me, then pulls his cup from his mouth and sets it down gently on the table. “No.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re not going in today.”
“It’s a weekday. I have work on those days,” I taunt, just a little. “My boss can be a real hardass, you know.”
Moving his full attention to me, he says, “You’re pale, your cheeks are flushed, and you’ve got a white-knuckle grip on that thing. You’re staying home, Rowan. You feel like shit.”
“I can still work,” I tell him, taking the seat across from him.
His eyes narrow at me – not with anger, but with a protectiveness behind the expression. “No.”
“Colt—”
“You won’t win this fight, baby girl.”
He stands and plops his dishes into the dishwasher, then disappears down the hallway. I guess that’s the end of that conversation.
I stay seated at the table and wait for Macie to come out so I can fix her a bowl of cereal.
Thankfully, there are at least three different kinds chock full of marshmallows and colorful pieces in the cabinet, so she has her choice.
Hell, she can mix and match all of them if she wants to.
It’s an easy breakfast I don’t have to stand for half an hour to make for her.
Colt reappears not much later, still in his comfy clothes. I figured he had gone off to his room to change, but I guess not. He walks over to Macie and pats her head with a smile.
“Morning, kiddo. Sleep well?”
Her head nods excitedly. “I picked out my show and tell, too!”
“Awesome! What did you go with?” He asks.
“Astro-bunny,” she tells him.
A smile spreads across my face. Astro-bunny is literally just a stuffed purple bunny that she shoved an astronaut’s helmet onto.
It’s her favorite toy in her now ridiculously large collection – at least, it feels ridiculous now.
Colt bought Astro-bunny for her about a week after we got here; I think he wanted her to know she was safe, and that he paid attention to her interests. It was really, incredibly sweet.
“Your friends are gonna love her,” I say while I pour milk over her bowl of cereal.
We spend a little time chatting around the table, mostly about the impending show and tell, making guesses about what the rest of her classmates will bring and if they’ll be cooler than Astro-bunny or if Macie will ‘win’ the day with the coolest object.
Colt disappears again while I check over my sister’s homework to make sure it’s all been done, reappearing a few minutes later, again, still in his comfy clothes. I stuff the finished homework back into Macie’s backpack and throw Colt a questioning look.
Tilting his head to gesture toward the stairs, he tells me, “Come with me.”
I follow him slowly through the house and up the stairs, and he keeps his own pace slow to match mine. We turn a corner, crossing the threshold to his bedroom and we pass through the room to head into the bathroom.
The lights inside are low, and I can’t decide if it feels more relaxing or romantic – maybe somewhere between both; only made romantic simply because Colt is standing next to me.
There’s a pleasant hint of eucalyptus in the air, wafting over from the sunken bathtub which is filled to the brim, a layer of thick, frothy bubbles resting over the top of it. Colt stands behind me and gently puts his hands on my shoulders.
“You,” he says, “are going to soak for a while. And you’re not going to fight me on it.”
“I have to—”
“Rowan. What did I just get done saying?” He laughs. “I’ve got everything covered. Bath. Now.”
He leads me toward the tub, stopping just short of it, then he leaves the room without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.
Admitting my defeat, I shrug off my pajamas and carefully lower myself into the tub, sliding down until I’m covered up to my chin in the warm bubbles, and take a deep breath of the eucalyptus.
I still ache, but the weightlessness of floating in this tub feels like a little slice of heaven carved right into the ground.
I let myself soak until I’m worried I might fall asleep, which would have been fine in my tub at home, but in this one, I think I’d probably drown.
Dressed in a fresh set of comfy clothes, I move back down the hallway, looking again at all of the pictures sprinkled throughout. Emmett’s entire life is practically documented here – I wonder if he knows just how proud his dad is of him.
My house had become a tomb, but this place is still very much alive, and the memories spread throughout radiate a still very-present love. I wasn’t even part of these memories, but when I walk past them, I can’t help but cherish them.
I finally get back out to the living room, where Colt sits on the couch. It’s late, he should have been at work at least an hour ago.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask him as I walk around to the front of the couch.
I stop in my tracks when I realize that next to him, there’s a fluffy blanket set out and on the table in front of it sits a bowl of soup and a steaming mug of tea. My heart does a little flip in my chest.
The only other person in my life who has ever taken care of me on days like this was my mom.
She would always get me a heating pad, soup, Tylenol.
A lot of it was guessing, because we never got any answers as to why I felt so crappy all of the time, but the love behind it was helpful in and of itself.
This is so similar in so many ways – the care and thought behind every choice, the desire to help – but it’s also so very different.
Does Colt love me?
He takes my hand and pulls me over toward the cozy spot set up next to him until I’m sitting down. “I’m making sure you stay off of your feet,” he tells me.
Wrapping the blanket around myself, I pick up the mug of tea and curl up against him, breathing in the rich smell of his cologne. We sit in a comfortable silence for a long while, the TV the only sound in the room.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can,” he tells me.
“Why don’t you have any pictures of Emmett’s mom?” I ask him. “It’s just that you have so many pictures up, and you’re obviously a sentimental guy…”
He takes a deep, steadying breath and drops his arm around my shoulders before speaking.
“I don’t have pictures of her up because I’m still angry with her,” he says plainly.
“Why are you angry?”
Another breath and a quick nod of consideration later, he explains, “Because she left.” My silence is cue enough that I’m listening, if he wants to tell me more. I hope he knows he doesn’t have to, but if he wants to tell me, I want to listen. I want to know his story.
“We were seventeen and stupid,” he continues.
“He wasn’t planned, but when we found out that Anna was pregnant, there wasn’t a second thought if he was wanted.
She moved in with my parents and I and we took over the basement so I could get a better job – I was working at a drive thru at the time – and we could save up some money to get our own place.
“Everything was pretty damn near perfect until Emmett was about four months old, and I realized that Anna wanted to have a baby, but she did not want to raise a child. She wanted the compliments and the cute, snuggly baby who never cries or poops or does anything that real babies do; not the three in the morning feedings and hoping that a store is still open somewhere because you’ve just used the last diaper and there are eight hours left until morning.
“I woke up to a note telling me she was sorry, but she couldn’t be his mom.
I was worried about her at first, I thought that maybe she’d developed depression, or gotten sick somehow and just needed time and support, but we were from a small town where everyone knew everyone and there was no such thing as a secret.
So I heard pretty quickly when her life went back to normal after she left.
She was partying and hanging out with friends like Emmett and I had never existed, and she was fine. ”
“Oh, Colt, I’m so sorry.”
“So,” he continues, “there are pictures, and videos. Because you’re right, I am sentimental. But I don’t want to look at them, and I don’t want Emmett to have to see them unless he chooses to.”
“Do you think you would ever forgive her?”
Without hesitation or second thought, he says, “No.”
“I think my mom would feel the same way about dad,” I tell him.
His arm tightens around my shoulders and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter who you are, you don’t hurt someone’s kids.”
So many things about him make so much more sense to me, now. The frequent check-ins with his son – who he wants to make sure is always a gentleman, the way he’s so attentive to Macie, even the toy drive at the Christmas party...the way he tenses up any time I mention my dad.
He’s a protector, through and through. No wonder he makes me feel so safe. It’s because he is safety taking physical form. That must get exhausting; taking care of people all the time. Always being on guard for someone to need saving.
I set down my mug of tea, putting it back on the coaster on the table, and I wrap my arms around his neck to hug him tight.