Chapter 22
Rowan
HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO BY BONNIE TYLER
The first yoga class fills before I’m even done lighting the candles.
I’m down on the floor unrolling mats and setting out blocks, trying not to panic-sweat through my cute black yoga set, and people just…
keep walking in. Not the three or four regulars that I expected.
Not even the pitiful turnout of friends and family that I can count on to fill classes if no one shows up.
No. Like. Packed. I’m so excited to be back to teaching.
There are about half a dozen women from town.
Plus, there are two tourists who “saw the chalkboard sign outside and thought this was so aesthetic” are making videos, setting up, and looking excited.
There’s also a teenage girl who will not stop whispering, “Oh my God, I’m obsessed,” and Willa in the corner, already on her mat with her water bottle like she’s moral support slash security as she smiles at everyone.
“Are we… full?” I whisper to her.
She stretches her arms over her head and smiles. “Baby, we’re over capacity, but I'm not making anyone leave.”
“Oh my God.”
“We might need to start a waiting list for your next class,” someone says from behind me.
I turn around and blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
A woman near the romance shelf raises her hand. “If you’re doing this every week, can we sign up in advance? My sister wants to come, but she’s working today.”
My heart does this weird warm flip. “Yeah,” I say, trying to play it cool even though I want to scream into a pillow. “Yes. We can… absolutely do a list.”
Willa coughs softly. “Translation, we can totally make this happen."
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I taught classes for years at the community center. But having everyone in my new space feels so good and feels right.
There’s soft laughter. And God, the sound of people excited while I’m teaching yoga?
While my candles are flickering and the salt lamps are glowing in the corners, the whole place smells like eucalyptus and lavender.
It feels like magic. The good kind of magic that I dreamed of when I opened up my apothecary shop and dreamed of having my yoga classes upstairs.
Everything in one place with people enjoying what I love to do most.
I swallow the ache that hits me out of nowhere and I wish Finn was here to see this. He’s working right now and has been really busy. I can’t wait to tell him later. He’s been my cheerleader through all of this and none of it would be possible without all his help.
I shake that thought off fast, clap my hands, and slide into teacher mode. I am ready to give the people what they paid for.
“Okay, loves,” I say, voice going low and warm. “We’re going to start slow, no pressure, no pushing, no pain. Your only job is to breathe. In…” I inhale with them. “And out.”
The whole room exhales.
And for the next forty-five minutes, I forget about everything else.
I'm in a flow state, in my element, just doing what I love. I forget about the mayor and the mean girls who tried to keep me from this. I just move, guide, and soften shoulders with little nudges. I tell people they’re doing great and mean it.
I love seeing my classes this excited and motivated.
When we hit savasana at the end, half the class melts into their mats, and I hear the ocean through the windows, making it feel even more peaceful.
When we finish, people don’t leave.
They linger, talk, and browse the shop. They buy tea and little intention candles, and ask me about class times, requesting morning sessions and inquiring again about the waiting list.
“Do you offer private sessions?” a woman asks me quietly. “I’ve… kind of been going through it.”
My throat tightens when I see the look on her face and how she needs that. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Yeah, I do.”
Her eyes shine. She nods, like that answer alone is a relief. And this is why I love teaching. It’s so good for people. No matter what you’re going through, having someone to go through it with you and help you breathe and stretch through it feels like peace, relief, and healing.
The space is alive and my heart feels full. And this is mine. I’m so damn proud of Salt & Root. I’m going to do big things with this place, I just know it.
I’m still riding the afterglow when I head downstairs and wake up my laptop.
The wait list is ridiculous with three months out for yoga, six for tarot consults, and three months for tea leaf readings.
I refill my water with blackberries and mint, because I am determined to be the healthiest and strongest teacher for all these people putting their trust in me and my business.
The bell above the door jingles. I don’t startle, but I can feel the energy shift. I just look up and there she is. Jessica.
Once upon a time, I would have been excited to see her and spilled my guts about everything good and been equally excited about her and everything going on in her life as well.
Now, the only thing that drops is my opinion of the universe’s sense of humor.
You can’t trust someone you thought was your best friend.
I take a slow sip of my water. I’m calm, steady, and unbothered. Because that’s what I am. An unbothered queen who won’t be bothered with petty bullshit behavior from a monitoring spirit like Jessica who is going to get information and report it back to her headquarters.
“Oh,” I say, deadpan, like she’s the UPS driver and not the girl who set my life on fire by abandoning me for some mean and petty girls who tried to take down my business, my livelihood. “You’re…still alive. Good for you.”
Her mouth opens and closes again. Opens again. It’s like she doesn’t know what to say and I didn’t give her the reaction she wanted. The loyal friend she used as a doormat isn’t here anymore and she’s not sure what card to play.
I keep my expression neutral and flat. The kind of neutral that makes other people squirm. Jessica always hated silence. She needed reactions like most people need oxygen.
And once upon a time, she got mine. Not anymore.
She looks smaller than I remember. Or maybe I’ve just outgrown her. Funny how healing does that. It rearranges the scale so the things that used to feel enormous now look like props.
She stands there like she’s waiting for permission to speak. I let her wait and I take another drink, tasting blackberries and mint and the peace I built for myself.
If she thinks I’m going to fill the silence, she’s forgotten who I am. I’m not her friend anymore. She lost that privilege.
I don’t fold because someone looks at me with big, sorry eyes. I don’t hand out forgiveness like free samples at Costco. I don’t forget the things that burned just because the smoke clears.
She finally exhales, her voice hesitant. “Rowan…hi.”
I set my water down and tilt my head a fraction, just enough to be a reaction, just enough to show I chose to acknowledge her. “Jessica.”
I watch the way her shoulders tense. She shifts like she wants to apologize, confess, or rewrite history.
But the truth happened, and I lived through it and it hurt me. So, I just wait and let her figure out what she really came here for.
Because whatever story she is going to try to tell, I already know the ending: I’m fine. My life just took a turn and it’s pretty damn amazing. Finn and I are an item, things are better than ever. My classes are booked out, and my business is booming.
I don’t flinch. I don’t fawn. I don’t soften.
She showed me exactly who she was. And I believed her.
She looks… nervous, which is new. Because the last version of Jessica I knew was all high ponytail and mean-girl confidence and “I’m just being honest.” This version has softer edges.
No lip gloss armor. She’s twisting her keys in her hands, nervously as she waits to talk to me.
Willa is instantly at my shoulder like a feral guard, ready to pounce. She glares at Jessica. “What do you want?”
Jessica swallows. “I just—I wanted to talk to Rowan, for a second. If that’s okay.”
I don’t answer right away.
Willa leans toward my ear without taking her eyes off Jessica. “Do you want her here? You say the word, and I will escort her little traitor ass right on out to the curb.”
I almost laugh. “It’s fine,” I murmur. “Stay, though.”
“Obviously,” she whispers back. “I’m not leaving.”
Jessica takes a breath and says loudly and not meaningful, “I guess I owe you an apology.”
I say nothing.
“I shouldn’t have bailed on our trip.” She looks at me as if she’s trying to gauge how to play on my emotions, but I give her no response.
I fold my arms over my chest and lean on the counter, forcing myself to breathe instead of react.
Because the old me would have forgiven her on the spot to make the tension go away.
Because I loved Jessica, and she was my friend.
But you don’t treat your best friend that way and act like it’s no big deal.
I’m not doing that anymore. Not accepting the bare minimum from people.
I nod once. “I appreciate you saying that.”
But the truth is that I don’t really care. I don’t need her. I still hurt from her betraying me, but I’m good now.
She nods so fast I’m surprised her ponytail doesn’t launch off her head. “No, really—I just—I shouldn’t have been such a bad friend.”
“Bad friend?” I tilt my head. “That’s so cute. No. You were basically a tax fraud in friendship form.”
She opens and closes her mouth, like a stunned guppy.
Willa lets out a quiet, unimpressed exhale.
Jessica looks down at her keys. “I know you’re probably done with me. I just had to tell you that.”
And for a second, I see it. The part of her that’s human.
Not the version that stood next to Marilyn and Vanessa while they made trouble for me.
Just some girl who made bad choices and watched it all blow up in her face.
But something about what she's saying and the look in her eyes don't match up.
And before, I think I would have totally missed it.
But these days, I am trusting my gut and not missing anything.
I smile pleasantly. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Her shoulders tense.
“And look,” I say, softer now. “We’re not enemies. You can come in for books, for classes, for tea. Truly, no weirdness. I wish you well.”
She lets out a snarky laugh. “So, I got downgraded to… acquaintance?”
“Congratulations,” Willa says dryly. “That’s honestly generous.”
I almost smile. “Yeah,” I say. “Acquaintance is where we’re landing.”
It feels good to be honest and not pretend. I'm not that person. This is who I am. I'm a straight shooter and I'm going to be honest. Jessica is getting the consequences of her own actions.
“See you around,” I tell her.
After she slips out, it’s just me and Willa and the soft hum of the shop.
Willa turns to face me fully, hand on her hip. “Do you want me to sage the shop?”
That gets a real laugh out of me. It breaks something loose in my chest. “Sure, and that felt good."
“I’m proud of you," she tells me, giving me a hug. “The old you would have hexed the hell out of her.”
I swallow and my throat burns hot. “Yeah, well, I'm evolving, I guess.”
She softens. “You did good, Row.”
“It felt mean in some ways.”
“It wasn’t mean.” She steps closer and tips her forehead against mine for a second. “It was a boundary. We love boundaries. Boundaries are hot.”
I let out a shaky breath.
She pulls back. “Listen to me, because you know I’m right.
When people show you who they are, believe them.
And when they feel comfortable sitting next to people who try to tear you down?
You cut them off. You don’t make room for that energy in your life.
We are not doing ‘let me keep you close so you won’t hurt me again. ’ We’re doing, ‘godspeed and goodbye.’”
Something in me unclenches.
“I don’t want issues with anyone,” I murmur.
“Exactly. No drama. Just access revoked.” She smiles. “Normalize cutting people off for treating you shitty.”
My eyes sting again. I blink up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Willa.”
She smiles. “Now. Close up early and go be with your man.”
My stomach flutters at the thought of Finn.
“Ah,” she says, holding up a finger. “Don’t even try it. Lover boy’s been circling this block like a shark in a tool belt since 4:30.”
Heat rushes up my neck. “Shut up.”
“I will not. Go take a break and breathe. I've got your shop for a while. Let him feed your unworthy goblin mouth.”
“You’re so romantic.”
“I know.”
“See you at the farmers market!” she calls as I smile and head out.