Rowdy (Marked Men #5)(92)



I saw tears in her eyes and genuine regret but it was too little too late.

“I’m glad you found your way back to that boy. You were always so sweet together. He was wonderful with both of you girls.”

“He still is.” And I knew he always would be. Where he was is where I needed to be, not here on these church steps . . . only I had a stop to make on my way out of town first.

I didn’t bother with good-byes. I didn’t bother with a final look or a wave. I just left it as it was. The door was finally closed. I wasn’t being run out of town, I was leaving with a clear and important destination in mind. I wasn’t running from my past. I was heading purposefully toward my future, and it made me full and complete in a way all my bouncing around from place to place never had.

Before I got to where I was going, I pulled over to the side of a dusty road and jumped out of the rented SUV that was packed full with my sister’s personal effects so that I could gather a fistful of Texas bluebells in my hands. They matched the field of flowers on my back so perfectly that it made me smile and had my heart swelling. I gently laid them on the empty seat next to me and drove the rest of the way to the cemetery that was about thirty minutes outside of Loveless’s city limits.

It seemed like a really forgotten and lonely place. There was no bright green grass and rows of elegant headstones decorated with every kind of flower under the sun. Instead the ground was covered in brownish-green remnants of grass and the headstones looked sunbaked and worn. There were no other mourners milling about or paying respects, so all I had was a six-year-old’s memory of where to find the grave site I was looking for. It took longer to find her than it should have, and by the time I did, the bluebells looked a little sad. It was fitting. The whole atmosphere was somber and I was a little surprised that tears sprang to my eyes as soon as I saw the inscription on the plain headstone.

Gloria St. James

1975–1996

A Loving Mother with a Beautiful Smile

I wondered who had added the last part if it was only her and Rowdy, but I was glad it was there for him to see whenever he managed to make his way back here to see it. I crouched down and rested the flowers next to the cold stone and sort of just fell to my knees as I stared at the grave. I had so many things I wanted to say, felt like I had to catch her up on her son’s entire life, but nothing could make it around the lump in my throat.

I took a second, let a few tears fall, and then cleared my throat.

“Hello, Gloria, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Salem Cruz and I’m hopelessly in love with your son.”

I had to clear my throat again and my vision got hazy as moisture collected in the corners of my eyes. This was a lot harder than I had thought it was going to be when Rowdy had asked me to do it outside the hospital.

“I’ve known him most of my life and he has always been a good soul. You brought a wonderful man into this world and I just know you would be so proud of him and the life he has made for himself. He carries you very close to his heart.”

I reached out and traced her name where it was etched in stone. It matched the tattoo on Rowdy’s side almost perfectly.

“It took us a long time to figure things out, but now that we have, he really wanted me to be the first and last woman in his life that meets his mom.” I was crying in earnest now because of how important this moment was. It really solidified the resolution that Rowdy wanted me as his forever. “I’m going to do everything in my power to take care of him for you for the rest of my life. I just want you to know that.”

I let my head fall forward and I squeezed my eyes shut. Emotion and a lifetime of what could have been swirled all around me. I felt a hot breeze move some of my hair off of where it was sticking to my neck and the sweet scent of the flowers floated up into my nose. I put my hands on my thighs and lifted my head back up as I gazed thoughtfully at the headstone.

“I’m not going to waste moments ever again. I’ll bring him back here so you can see how amazing he is and so that you don’t ever have to wonder if he found someone to love him after you. He has me, he has an entire family he found for himself, and he has all the wonderful memories of you.”

The wind moved again, sending the petals of the flowers I had laid down dancing. I felt like it was time to go. I kissed my fingers and touched her name. I climbed to my feet and headed back to the SUV. Walking away from my own parents felt final and hollow. Saying good-bye to Rowdy’s mom felt peaceful and right. I felt like she had somehow given me her blessing to keep her son’s heart safe for her. It was a task I was going to dedicate myself to until the end of time.

I texted Rowdy to let him know I would be back home sometime the following evening and freaked out just a little when he replied that he was back at his own apartment because Poppy was having a really hard time being around any guy at the moment. I hadn’t been brave enough to ask her if Oliver had sexually assaulted her as well as beaten her and she hadn’t volunteered the information, but the evidence seemed to be pointing in that direction.

I called to check on her, and after an awkward conversation with a bunch of single-syllable answers, I hung up after making her promise over and over again that she was okay. She told me she was just jumpy and that Rowdy was too big. Accidently running into him in the hallway, or bumping into him coming out the bathroom, was just too much for her nerves right now, so she had asked him to go home. He hadn’t wanted to, was still hovering over her, trying to help her feel safe, but that was just exacerbating the problem. I told her I would be home soon and she laughed and told me I needed to just get to my guy. Apparently, after the run-in by the bathroom, she was well aware of what I was missing out on and was all for me getting back between the sheets with Rowdy and every fun thing he was working with. I didn’t disagree, so I hung up with every intention of Rowdy’s place being my first stop as soon as I hit the Mile High.

Jay Crownover's Books