Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROWAN
It’s been over a week.
Long enough for routines to settle.
Long enough for the house to stop feeling foreign.
Long enough for me to feel like I’ve been here much longer.
Despite how much I’m enjoying my new job with these two amazing kids, I can’t deny I’m looking forward to the weekend.
Two days of sleeping in. Letting my body recover. Maybe stopping by the shelter if I can carve out the time. I miss the dogs. Miss the way they love without expectation.
Maybe I’ll eventually be able to convince Hayden to let me take Jemmy to walk the dogs. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d love it. Jemmy seems to have the same thirst for adventure I do.
I want to do everything I can to nurture that.
Which is why I took a risk and asked — or, more appropriately, begged — Hayden to let me take Jemmy to story time at the library today.
He was reluctant at first, but I reminded him of the importance of socialization, even for young kids, so he eventually agreed and allowed me to take his spare car.
Although he made me swear I’d keep my hands at ten and two on the wheel, that I wouldn’t text, and wouldn’t go even a mile over the speed limit.
He was definitely a bit overbearing, but it was worth it.
Jemmy loved every second of it. He even made some new friends, so afterwards we went across the street to the park to spend even more time with them.
By the time we got home, Jemmy was exhausted.
Getting him down for his nap was effortless. No fussing. No protest. Just a soft dinosaur roar and heavy-lidded eyes.
I close the door to his room and stand in the hallway for a second longer than necessary, listening to the hush of the house.
Silence like this is rare.
I consider napping myself, but I know if I lie down, I won’t want to get back up. So after making myself a quick salad, I head toward the toy room and start picking up all the toys Jemmy took out to play with this morning.
It’s not as bad as it usually is, since we were out of the house most of the morning. But I still spot a trail of cereal leading to a flipped-over bowl. I pick up what I can, but there are still crumbs, so I go hunting for the vacuum, finding one in the hallway closet.
After vacuuming the toy room, I decide to keep going.
The living room. The hallway. The office.
I never thought I would enjoy vacuuming as much as I do now.
Maybe because I’ve been living in a van for the past few months, but there’s something oddly therapeutic about sucking up all the dust and grime, leaving behind something clean.
Like a fresh start.
After I finish in the office, I bend to unplug the cord behind the desk, and my elbow hits a stack of folders, knocking them onto the floor, papers spilling everywhere.
“Crap,” I mutter, hastily gathering them up and reorganizing them into a neat stack.
That’s when I see it.
An envelope half-tucked inside a folder. Plain. Unassuming.
But the return address makes my chest seize so hard I forget how to breathe.
I know that logo. Know that nonprofit.
It’s the one I worked with to send a letter to the family of the person who donated their heart to me.
I should forget I ever saw it.
Hayden’s a doctor. There could be dozens of reasons he might have a letter from this nonprofit.
But my fingers move anyway, pulling out the envelope and lifting the opened flap to retrieve the contents.
My heart races, my hands becoming unsteady as I unfold the piece of paper.
And when I do, it feels as if all the air has been sucked from my lungs, the room spinning around me.
I know this letter.
I wrote this letter.
Every word. Every carefully chosen sentence. I can recite them from memory.
I’d spent weeks on it, knowing it might be the only opportunity I’d get to say what I wanted to.
And now I’m staring at those same words again.
Which could mean only one thing.
“No,” I whisper, my throat tightening.
This doesn’t make sense.
I don’t want it to make sense.
Don’t want to consider that the only reason I’m alive today is because Hayden lost someone.
Because Presley and Jemmy lost someone.
But I need to know.
Despite the voice in my head telling me to forget I ever saw this, I grab the folder and rummage through it.
More letters and cards.
But behind them all, I find a program.
The memorial for Cora Lawrence.
Her photo steals the air from my lungs.
Presley’s eyes stare back at me. Jemmy’s smile.
And then I see her date of death.
The same day as my rebirth, as I call it. The day I received the heart that’s now beating in my chest.
I want to believe it could all be a coincidence, but what other reason would there be for Hayden to have this letter?
There’s only one possible explanation.
Because his wife’s heart beats inside me.
Every sound drops away except the thud in my chest, the rhythm that once belonged to her.
I’d imagined this moment before. Wondered what it would feel like to find out who my donor was.
I never imagined this.
Never imagined loving the children of the woman who saved my life.
Never imagined sleeping under the same roof as the man who lost her.
Never imagined thinking of them as my family.
The sound of the front door slamming shut startles me, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Presley’s not supposed to be home for another half-hour.
I quickly shove all the papers back into the folder despite my shaky hands, returning everything to the desk.
Then I head down the hallway and into the living room just as Hayden storms toward the stairs.
He stops short when he sees me, his eyes on fire. “Where were you? Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He asked me a question. I need to respond.
But I can’t find the words.
Can’t seem to do anything but stare at him.
At the man whose wife’s heart is beating inside my chest.
It makes another wave of emotion well up inside me, but I do my best to push it down.
“My phone?” I manage to squeak out.
“Yes, Rowan. Your goddamn phone.”
I blink repeatedly, searching my brain for an answer, still out of it.
“I… I must have forgotten it on the coffee table. I was cleaning before Presley got home—”
“You forgot it?” His voice cracks like a whip. “You were supposed to text me the second you got home with Jemmy. The fucking second. So I knew he was okay. So I knew he was safe. And you just…forgot?”
“I did text you.”
I move toward the coffee table and grab my phone, my heart sinking when I see all the missed calls and texts from Hayden. Then I navigate to our text thread. But under my latest message is a red warning. The message never sent.
Shit.
“It didn’t go through, but I texted. See for yourself.” I show him my screen, but he doesn’t seem the least bit satisfied.
“And you didn’t think to make sure I received the message?”
“I… I’m sorry. But Jemmy’s fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“I’m his father,” he snarls, his imposing frame towering over me. “It’s my job to worry. To protect them. To keep them safe. Are you always this fucking irresponsible?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I—”
“Don’t.” He holds up his hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “It’s obvious this isn’t going to work. I need someone who can follow instructions. Who I can trust. That’s obviously not you.” He stares at me for several long moments. Then he says, “You should go. Before Presley gets home.”
I open my mouth, struggling to find the words to defend myself. To make him see he’s being unreasonable.
But all I can see is Cora’s face.
So I spin and hurry into my suite without saying another word.
I pack in a blur. It doesn’t take long, since I don’t have much stuff. Then I use my separate entrance to leave, saving me from having to see Hayden again.
As I climb into my van, I wipe the tears from my face, unsure if they’re from getting fired, from not being able to say goodbye to Presley and Jemmy, or because of what I just learned.