Chapter Twenty-Nine
Good Things to Come
Nash
Three mornings before the band was due to start recording at Grant’s house, I jerked awake after having a whacked out dream about my mother. It was the third one that week. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. As I snuggled into Rowan’s warm, naked body, I considered fucking the dream out of my head, but since I’d kept her up late last night doing just that, I knew she needed the sleep. So I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and headed downstairs for coffee.
Two hours later, Rowan found me sitting outside on Mom’s bench staring at the herb garden she and Rowan had planted.
“You’ve been out here a while. I thought you might want this.” Rowan held out a travel mug filled with fresh hot coffee. I took the mug and scooted over for her to sit down. “Want to talk about it?” she asked.
“I don’t know if I can live here anymore.” Although I didn’t mean to blurt the words out, damn it felt good to finally say them out loud.
Rowan whipped her head around, and began to choke on her sip of coffee. “What do you mean you can’t live here anymore?” she wheezed as I patted her on the back.
“This house, Mom’s room, her memories,” I arced my hand through the air, “her ashes. It’s like she’s everywhere but nowhere. She’s gone, Ro, and I feel as if I’m waiting for her to return. No, what I feel is like I’m a stranger in my own fucking home. If I’m honest, it’s a home that was more for her than for me, yet now that she’s gone…”
“You feel stuck,” she finished for me. “So make it yours.” I arched a questioning brow at her, and waited for her to explain. “Seriously, Nash, this house is amazing, but you’re right. It’s much more hers than yours, so why don’t you make it yours? You’ve yet to enter her room. That’s your first step. I can help you clean it out. It will take us a few hours, max. We can donate the hospital bed. With new furniture and a fresh coat of paint, the room will make a perfect guest bedroom. If the rest of the downstairs bothers you, simply paint and redecorate. You know,” she shrugged, “make it your own.”
I thought about it for a minute, and realized that Rowan was right. My refusal to deal with Mom’s death was seriously affecting me. I was stuck, not just in this house, but in the past.
“What if I change things…redecorate and shit, and still feel this way? What then?” I asked.
“You move,” she flippantly replied. For some reason her answer bothered me. It reminded me that she still had yet to sign the papers on the house, that she still had the ability at any moment to walk out the door. Just the thought of her leaving pissed me off beyond all reason.
“You make it sound so easy. What about you? Do you move with me, or do you move on?” I snapped. Hurt flashed in her eyes, and I instantly wanted to take the words back.
“If you have to ask that, then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” I grabbed her arm as she stood to leave.
“What’s the real reason you won’t sign the papers, Rowan?”
“You keep asking me this. Look at you, Nash. You’re a rock star. I’m…nobody. If I sign those papers, then we legally jointly own this place. What happens if we break up? What happens if you decide I’m not what you want? Choose me because you want me,” she slapped her hands on her chest, “not because I trapped you.” She turned to leave, and I let her go. It was not because I agreed with her reasoning, but because I needed to think about my next step. As my mother used to say, there was more than one way to skin a cat.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked back into the house, but it wasn’t to find my mother’s door wide open and music pouring from her bedroom. Curiosity getting the better of me, I stepped up to the door to see what Rowan was up to. On her tiptoes with her back to me, dressed in a white tank top and jean shorts that barely covered her tight little ass, was Rowan. Apparently, she was in the process of opening all of the windows in Mom’s room. Cold air swept through the room, but Rowan seemed impervious to it. Her hair was on top of her head in a bun, which precariously swayed from side to side as she shook her head to the beat of the song. Her questions from earlier played through my head. Her fear that I was going to walk away was laughable. Rowan filled something deep inside of me. I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she.
Rowan startled when she saw me standing in the doorway. With a sly smile, she waved me in and put me to work. The more time we spent around Mom’s things the more comfortable I became. I even found myself laughing over pictures and sharing memories of my childhood with her. While the pain was still there, it suddenly felt more manageable. When we were done cleaning out Mom’s drawers and had finished with the few items remaining in her closet, Rowan suggested shopping for furniture.
“Hop on,” I ordered as I turned and presented my back to her.
“Yeah, right,” she snorted.
“Come on, don’t be such a chicken.”
She narrowed her eyes at my taunt before not so gracefully jumping onto my back and landing with a loud “Umph.”
Trying to suppress my laughter, I craned my neck around, and asked, “Your ribs okay?” Her arm was completely healed, but I could tell that her ribs were still giving her some trouble.
“The ribs are fine. Go horsey!” she called out as she kicked her feet against my ass. She shrieked in surprise when I took off so fast that I almost unsaddled her. We both howled with laughter as I bounded up the stairs. My initial plan was to carry her upstairs, have shower sex, followed by lunch in town and furniture shopping, but when I set her down outside the shower and saw her watching me in the mirror with those sexy green eyes, I had a much better idea. As if sensing my sudden change in mood, her lips turned up into a seductive smile. I stepped up behind her and pressed my hard cock against her sweet ass. Her smile turned carnal. Just like before, I placed both hands on top of the vanity, on either side of her body. Her eyes flared with understanding. Here we were again. Only, she was no longer hurt.
“You say you don’t want to trap me, but what if I want to be trapped?” I quietly asked. I lifted my hand from the vanity, snaked it around her waist, and pulled her snug against my chest. Her mouth opened in a silent “Oh” of pleasure as I slowly unbuttoned her shorts. “What if I want you to share this place with me?” I lowered her zipper, and slid the shorts off of her body. As usual, she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her body called to me. I was obsessed. Better yet, I was in love. I brushed my beard across her neck, and smiled as a shiver rolled through her. She smelled like heaven…Rowan…mine. Her head dropped back onto my shoulder as I licked a path from her ear to her collarbone. A groan escaped from her lips as I slid my fingers down her stomach and nestled them between her thighs. Oh so slowly, she parted her knees to let me in. Green eyes, filled with lust, love…emotion, stared back at me through the mirror and I was lost. Totally and completely lost. I thought I’d loved Rachel and that her death was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I’d closed myself off, refused to feel, but nothing…nothing in this whole fucking world could touch what I had standing in front of me…staring back at me…filling up my heart, my mind, my soul. With my eyes locked on hers, I divested us both of our remaining clothing and slid on a condom. “Hands flat on the vanity,” I instructed. A gasp of excitement seeped from her mouth as I pressed my front to her back, and whispered in her ear, “I choose you.” Then I lined myself up and filled her to the hilt. “Watch what you do to me,” I growled as I pulled out and slammed home again. “I fucking love you, Rowan Burns,” I growled through gritted teeth. After several more punishing thrusts, she got that look on her face. The one that said she was close. I was closer. I needed her with me, so I slid my fingers between her legs to help her get there faster. “You.” Slam. “Are.” Slam. “Mine,” I growled, and with one last thrust, she screamed out her orgasm as I planted myself deep inside her body and shouted my release.
* * *
The morning I was due at Grant’s house to start recording with the band, I cleared out the remaining items in Mom’s room. In her desk I found letters from old friends, two brand new e-readers, and her check book.
“The painters are due in thirty minutes!” Rowan called from upstairs.
Rowan and I had spent the day before picking out new furniture. Once we’d outfitted the entire downstairs, I talked her into redoing the upstairs as well. After very little coercing, something I was both surprised and happy about, Rowan agreed to share the upstairs master bedroom with me, which meant we’d be turning my room into another guest bedroom. Believe it or not, it was my first experience at picking out furniture. When all was said and done, I could honestly say that I was looking forward to the next chapter. While I was going to be laying down tracks for the song I’d written, which I’d finally titled Saved from the Darkness, Rowan would be handling the movers and painters. At Mallory’s insistence, Rowan and I were spending the next four nights at their house instead of a hotel.
My eyes trailed over the checkbook, and I thought about how I would need to close Mom’s account. I opened the front cover. I could be rocking along just fine and then suddenly be barreled over by a memory or a smell that reminded me of her…of how she was no longer here. I slowly traced my fingers over her handwriting. As I scanned over the entries, one stood out.
“What’s that?” Rowan asked from the doorway.
“Mom’s checkbook. Did she ever mention writing someone a check for fifty thousand dollars?”
“What?” Rowan all but choked on the question.
“Yeah, right here. It says she wrote a check for fifty grand, but she didn’t write down who it was to.” Making a wild leap, I asked, “Did you need money for something and not tell me?”
Rowan’s eyes widened with surprise. “What? No! I would never,” she sputtered.
Pointing at Mom’s checkbook, I asked, “Do you know anything about this?” Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and she glanced out the window and sighed. “Maeve asked me not to tell you.”
“Well, Maeve is dead,” I glibly pointed out. After a long pause, Rowan told me about the day she’d taken Mom to the doctor and he’d confirmed that Maeve was indeed dying. How Mom had held out hope that she was in fact getting better, and how the news had devastated her. I bristled when Rowan explained how Mom had taken out her anger on Rowan. She said that when she finally called Mom out, Mom had come all the way upstairs to apologize, which then led to Mom’s confession about my father, and how she’d paid him off. Needing clarification, I asked, “Mom actually told you she saw my father outside this house?”
“She said she saw a man lurking around the house that looked to be the same size as your dad, but keep in mind, Maeve’s mind was fading. Also, that was right about the same time Conor discovered I was here.”
Placing the checkbook on the desk, I motioned Rowan to me. With a wary look, she advanced, and I pulled her down onto my lap. “If my father ever contacts you, I don’t care what the reason is, let me know, okay?”
“You don’t think he’ll cause problems, do you?” Her voice was laced with worry.
Pulling her in tight, I said, “Trust me when I say he wouldn’t get very far if he tried, but on the off chance he’s a stupid man and tried to contact you…”
Rowan gave me a quick peck on the lips. “I will let you know if he ever does, I promise. You’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on,” she reminded.
“You’ll meet me at Grant’s with the bags later?” I asked. She gave me a wary look, and I gave her another kiss. “It will be fun. Plus, you’re going on our next tour, so you need to get used to being around everyone.”
With a gasp of excitement, she pulled back, and said, “I’ve never been to Europe.” Then her lips descended on mine. That led to her rubbing her hot body all over me and me with a raging boner. When I tried to take it further, she called a halt to it. Not only were the painters due, but I was going to be late. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right.
“I can’t wait to fuck you in Grant’s house,” I whispered, before lifting her off of my lap and smacking her on the ass.
“I love yoooooou,” she called out on her way out the door, and was gone before I could respond.