Chapter 35
thirty-five
. . .
Rowan
Melissa’s been calling for weeks now. I have answered a few times.
Every call so far has been the same pattern of panic, promises, and desperation thick in her voice like I can reach through the phone and pull her out of it.
And every time I try to get a straight answer—where she is, what she needs, whether she’ll actually take help—she dodges, disappears, then calls again three days later like nothing’s happened.
I think she expects that I’ll just keep catching her right before she hits rock bottom, but I already know how that ends.
Over and over again, I tell myself she’s not my responsibility because I know what it turns into if I let it. I know how fast helping becomes drowning. I’ve lived like that before, only last time, it was my sister. And I couldn’t save her, either.
That truth sits heavy in my chest, ugly and immovable. I was too young. Too damn out of my depth to make a difference. But that doesn’t stop the part of me that still thinks if I’d tried harder, stayed closer, done something different, maybe she’d still be here.
So, yeah. I’ve ignored some of Melissa’s calls when it’s really not a good time, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just know I can’t do this the same way again.
I haven’t told Violet, and it’s not that I’m hiding it…
I just don’t know how to explain it. What the hell am I supposed to say?
“Hey, Violet, remember all those years I was away? There was this woman I slept with once when I was drunk and stupid because I was missing you, and then I spent months trying to keep her clean.”
I linger off to the side of the barn, watching Violet move, completely focused on whatever it is she’s tinkering with as my phone buzzes in my pocket. Again. I don’t need to look to know who it is.
That familiar knot of guilt and obligation twists in my gut. It’s been growing tighter with each ignored call. I should block her number. Cut the tie completely. That would be the smart thing.
But I keep seeing her that night I found her, curled up on her bathroom floor, barely breathing. I keep hearing the doctors. “If you hadn’t found her when you did...”
I pull the phone out, staring at Melissa’s name on the screen. The sixth call today.
“Everything okay?” Violet calls from inside the barn. We recently got everything cleared out, and I got some hay delivered. Violet thinks we’re prepping for potential future livestock, but she doesn’t know I’ve actually got a surprise in store for her.
That will have to wait, though. I walk closer, leaning against the doorframe. “Actually,” I say, the words sticking in my throat, “no.”
Violet turns. Her smile fades as she sees my expression. “What is it?”
“I should’ve told you sooner,” I say, already knowing that part’s true. “I just didn’t want to drag something from my past into the present.”
The words hang there for a second, heavy with everything I haven’t said yet. I scrub a hand over my jaw, forcing myself to keep going instead of backing out like I have every other time.
“You know how my phone’s been going off a lot lately?”
She nods slowly, her eyes searching mine. “I figured it was work.”
“It’s not.” I run a hand through my hair, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “It’s a woman named Melissa. She’s…someone from my past. When I was in Arizona.”
The light in Violet’s eyes dulls, worry flickering across her face before stepping closer to me.
“What kind of someone?” she asks, her voice cautious.
I exhale slowly. This is just as hard as I thought it would be. “She was my neighbor. We… I slept with her once.” I watch Violet’s face carefully, hating the way her expression freezes.
“But that’s not why she’s calling. She’s an addict. When I knew her, she was trying to get clean.” I rub at the back of my neck, tension coiling there. “She keeps calling, saying she needs help.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“I have.”
Violet’s eyes drop to the ground, and she wraps her arms around herself. The silence stretches between us like a physical thing, growing heavier with each passing second.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she finally asks.
“It felt like something I should handle on my own,” I admit.
She nods slowly, processing. I can see the hurt in her eyes, though she’s trying to hide it. “I understand why someone from your past would reach out if they’re struggling. But I don’t understand why you felt you couldn’t tell me.”
“Violet—”
“We live together, Rowan.” Her voice catches slightly. “We share everything.”
I step closer, relieved when she doesn’t back away. “I know. I should have told you. I just didn’t want you to think there was anything between Melissa and me now or that I was hiding something.”
“But you were hiding something,” she says quietly. Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear despite the pain in them.
Goddammit. I’m just standing here hurting her like I always do. “You’re right,” I say, the admission scraping my throat raw. “And I’m sorry for that.”
Violet stares off into the distance for a second. “I need to understand something.” She pauses. “When you say you helped her get clean, what exactly does that mean? What kind of relationship did you have with her?”
I lean against the stable wall, trying to find the right words. “After that one night, I found her overdosed in her apartment. I got her to the hospital, and when she came out, she had nowhere to go. So I let her crash on my couch while she tried to get back on her feet.”
Violet’s eyes widen slightly. “She lived with you?”
“For a few months, yeah.” I can’t lie or sugarcoat this. “It wasn’t romantic. It was… I don’t know what it was. Guilt, maybe. Or just not wanting to see someone else destroy themselves when I could do something about it.”
Her arms unfold from around herself, and I can see the gears turning in her mind, the hurt shifting into understanding.
“I didn’t even think about your sister, Rowan. I’m sorry.”
I immediately shake my head. “No, don’t apologize. Yes, that’s part of the reason any of this happened in the first place, but it doesn’t excuse me not bringing it up.”
She presses a hand to her chest, taking a slow breath. “And there was nothing between you two the last time you saw her?”
“No, Violet. Not at all.”
Fuck, I’m such a dick. This is exactly why I wanted to keep all of this away from her. I don’t want to give her any reason, ever, to doubt what I have with her now.
“What are you going to do?” she finally asks. “Are you going to help her?”
What am I going to do? I’ve been asking myself that for weeks.
“I’ve looked into a few programs.” I shrug. “Places that could take her. But I wasn’t going to do anything unless she agreed to it.”
She nods, green eyes as serious as ever. “I understand why you feel the way you do, and she clearly needs help, but…Rowan, I need to know that you’re not going to let her become our problem.”
I nod, understanding exactly what she’s saying. She’s being way more considerate than she needs to be. She has every right to be angry with me right now, but…this is Violet.
“I’ll put her in touch with a program or something. That’s it.”
Relief softens Violet’s features. “I think that would be a good idea.”
I pull her into my arms, breathing in the scent of her hair. She smells like hay and sunshine and everything good in my world. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she says.
Her fingers trace small circles on my back, and some of the tension starts to drain from my shoulders. We stand there for a moment, just holding each other.
“I should call her back,” I say finally. “Get her connected with someone who can actually help.”
Violet pulls back just enough to look up at me. “Do you want me to give you some space?”
“No.” The word comes out firmer than I intend. “Stay. Please.”
She nods, settling onto a hay bale while I pull out my phone. The list of missed calls from Melissa scrolls on for what seems like forever. I take a deep breath and hit the Call Back button.
The line rings three times, and I almost think she’s not going to answer. Then—
“Rowan?” Her voice is thin, frayed at the edges.
I close my eyes for half a second, grounding myself before I respond. “Yeah. It’s me.”
There’s a shaky exhale on the other end. “I didn’t think you were going to call back.”
“I almost didn’t,” I admit, glancing over at Violet. She’s watching me with sympathetic eyes. “But I am now, so listen to me. If I come out there, it’s not to do what we did last time. That doesn’t work. You know it doesn’t.”
A sharp inhale. “You don’t understand—”
“No,” I cut in. “I do.”
I pace a few steps, boots crunching softly in the hay. My chest is tight, but not in that panicked, out-of-control way I remember. This is controlled. Intentional.
“If you want me to come out there,” I continue, “that’s the deal. Otherwise, I’ll find you a number, someone local, but I’m not getting on a plane just to watch you spiral again.”
The line goes quiet. For a second, I think she hangs up.
“You’d really come?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at Violet again. My selfless, beautiful Violet. She hasn’t moved, but something in her expression eases, like she’s seeing this for what it is. “But only if you’re serious about getting help.”
“I can’t afford—”
“I’m paying,” I cut her off, voice firm. “This isn’t a negotiation, Melissa. You called me because you need help. This is me helping.”
“Can’t I just stay with you for a bit, wherever you are? Until I’m back on my feet or whatever?”
“We did that once, and that was a mistake.” I keep my voice as even as possible. “Staying with me isn’t on the table.”
Silence, and then—
“You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake when you were in my bed,” she seethes.
She’s grasping at anything she can right now. I expected that. It’s the kind of hit that would’ve dragged me right back into the same cycle a year ago—guilt, responsibility, fixing what was never mine to fix.
My grip tightens on the phone, my gaze drifting to Violet. She’s still sitting on the hay bale, steady, not flinching from any of this. There’s no judgment in her expression. No doubt.
She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing to me. How she makes this feel possible.
For so long, everything in me was wired to handle things alone. Keep people at arm’s length. Take the hit, fix the problem, move on before anyone got too close to the fallout. That was the only way I knew how to survive it.
But Violet stands in the middle of it with me like my past isn’t something she needs to run from, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I have to carry all of it by myself.
That doesn’t mean I get to make the same mistakes again. It means I do it differently.
Better.
My focus snaps back to the call, my voice firm when I speak again. “That’s not happening, Melissa.”
“So that’s it? I mean nothing to you?” she snaps.
“Melissa.” I pause, choosing my words carefully because I know she’s hurting, and lashing out is part of the pattern. “You were my friend. I cared about you, and I still do, which is why I’m offering to help you now. But trying to manipulate me isn’t going to work.”
For the second time, the silence stretches so long I check to make sure she hasn’t hung up.
“I’m scared,” she finally whispers, and this time I hear it—the real fear beneath all the scheming and grasping.
“I know. That’s why I’m going to help you. But it has to be on these terms.”
“Okay.” Her voice cracks. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll do the program thing.”
Relief floods through me, mixed with wariness because I’ve heard her agree to things before. “I’m going to need you to mean that. Don’t waste my time or yours pretending.”
“I mean it,” she insists, and there’s something in her tone that sounds more grounded than before. “I’m tired, Rowan. I’m so fucking tired.”
I believe her. Or at least, I believe she believes herself right now. “Alright. I’ll look into flights and facilities. Give me a day or two to sort it out, and I’ll call you back with details.”
“Thank you,” she breathes.
“Don’t thank me yet. Just be ready to do the work when I get there.”
We hang up, and I stand there for a moment, phone in my hand, processing what just happened. The weight that’s been sitting on my chest for weeks hasn’t disappeared, but it’s shifted to something less suffocating.
Violet rises from the hay bale, crossing to me with careful steps. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I slip my phone back into my pocket. “I think so.”
She slides her arms around my waist, resting her cheek against my chest. I tilt my head down, brushing my lips against the crown of her head. Her arms tighten, the warmth of her body grounding me.
“Violet…” I murmur. She looks up at me, green eyes soft but alert, reading every piece of me in a single glance.
I cup her face, bringing it toward mine, and press my lips to hers.
It’s gentle at first, testing, but she responds with the same urgency I’ve been holding back.
The kiss deepens, and for a moment, nothing else exists—not guilt, not the past. Just us and the trust we’re building together, brick by brick.
Pulling back just enough to see her face, I whisper, “You give me strength, Violet. You believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”
Her thumb trails along my jaw. “You’re not your past, Rowan. And you’re not alone anymore. We’re in this together.”
I press my forehead to hers, letting the weight of that truth settle over us. Violet’s trust is something worth fighting for. Something worth staying for.