Chapter 20 | Rowan

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"Rowan, please! Tell her to get off my ass about it!" Leo whined.

Rowan laughed, winking at him. "Sorry, buddy, but I know my place. And she is right."

He scowled. "Geez. Next she'll be wanting to ask me to go to the ceremony with her. As a date."

Snickering, she turned to grin at Emma. But she was shocked to see that the other girl wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked kind of embarrassed.

Rowan looked between the two of them in confusion, and her jaw nearly hit the table. Emma looked mortified at the suggestion, but she had also turned a deep pink. And Leo had gone completely silent and was looking at the blonde girl with his own flushed appearance.

No freakin way.

Did they like each other? The last time she'd checked they'd scoffed at the idea, but now things were starting to make sense. Things she'd missed along the way, like the quick glances and Leo's fidgeting when they were together.

She almost laughed at the thought but instead decided on a smug grin, looking between the two of them.

"So," she started. "How are things?"

Leo looked at her in confusion. "What things?"

Now it was Emma's turn to scowl. "She's making fun of us."

Now he looked really confused. "About what?"

Men.

•>•>•>

Rowan had been taken over by a whirlwind of ecstasy. She was happier than she'd been in a long time- maybe ever- and it was all because of James.

But there was something lurking amidst the lightness she'd been feeling, and though she'd been able to ignore it for weeks, it was beginning to show itself like dark rain clouds before a storm. And the calm presented itself in the form of a phone call; one she'd been putting off.

She was sitting out on the front steps when it came in, and she felt a stab in the pit of her stomach at the name on the caller ID.

Hesitating, she finally decided it would have to be like taking off a bandaid- you just do it, and you do it all at once. Trying to prolong the experience only makes it worse.

"Hello?" she said quietly, pressing the phone to her ear.

"I've been waiting to hear back from you for weeks," was the curt reply.

She frowned. "Mom, I've been busy. And I left you a message."

"Rowan." It was silent for a moment, and then the older woman sighed. "It's time for you to quit this act of rebellion and come home."

Rowan was nearly speechless. "Rebellion?" she sputtered. "You think I'm doing this to rebel?"

"I think we all know what this is. You were set on ruining your life with this...this ridiculous sketching dream or whatever it was, and so you left like a child having a temper tantrum. But now it's time for you to grow up and come home. Get a real degree."

Rowan's lack for words was quickly being replaced with anger. "A real degree. Of course," she spat.

"Rowan," her mother said, her voice taking on a dangerous tone. "Come home. "

"This is my home," she said.

A tense silence stretched the fifteen hundred miles separating the two of them.

"If you do not quit this asinine behavior then you will no longer be welcome here."

A jolt of pain shot through her at the words of her mother, and she was horrified to feel her eyes filling up with tears. "Then I guess this is it," she said.

She ended the call and was nearly too shocked by the outcome to hear the phone go tumbling down the stairs. A neighbor she wasn't familiar with set it down gently beside her on his way up, giving her a worried glance.

The phone call had lasted little more than a minute and had brought back a lifetime of painful memories and twisted words.

She buried her head in her hands until the dark began to set in, and with it the cold. By then the pain had subsided and a numbness was all that was left. Picking herself up from the cold concrete she trudged slowly up to her apartment.

As she shut the door she looked around in dismay. It looked like her temporary home had become a permanent one. She was really and truly screwed. And alone. Not sure she was doing the right thing, she dialed the newest number in her memory. One that had been scribbled on notebook paper and even the back of her hand for a time.

"Hey, baby."

A sob escaped her at the sound of his voice, and she threw a hand over her mouth. But he'd heard.

"Rowan?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Everything came rushing back. She was unable to form words, and instead crumbled into deep, earth wrenching tears at the hurt her own flesh and blood had inflicted over the years.

"Where are you?" he asked. The softness had left his voice, and even in her state she didn't miss the tone it had taken on.

"At the apartment," she finally said.

She heard the sound of rustling from the other end of the line. "I'm coming to get you."

•>•>•>

He was there within fifteen minutes and she hadn't left her place on the floor.

He took one look at her and then he was scooping her up into his arms. His actions were gentle but his expression was anything but. It was very clear: James Wilson was pissed.

She almost felt bad for the neighbors, and anyone else who had to witness the rage happening behind his eyes.

He deposited her gently into his car and then climbed in next to her. Placing a hand on her face he softly turned her towards him, searching her expression. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"My parents," she said, willing her exhausted body to stop aching.

She didn't need to say anything else, because he knew. He let go of her face and instead took her fingers in his. With a shift of the gears they were gone.

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