Take the Fall (Take the Fall, #1)(37)

“The roses,” he says with a smile. “I loved giving them to you.”

He always gave me roses, different colors and lengths. Sometimes in a bouquet while other times just a single rose.

“Grandma would tell me which ones to get. That each one had a meaning.”

“Roses have a meaning?”

He turns to me. “Apparently, they all do. She learned it from a woman named Poppy Holland.”

“Really, then, tell me—what do purple roses mean?” I challenge.

“?‘Enchantment’—that’s why I gave you purple roses first.”

I can’t hear that. I don’t want to hear that, but his explanation doesn’t stop me from asking more questions. “And yellow?”

“?‘I like you.’?”

I list more colors, and he answers each one. If he’s full of it, I won’t know unless I search for it on the Internet.

“And red?” I ask softly. My favorite is red roses. Seth brought those to me all the time, even before I had a favorite.

“It means ‘I love you,’?” he says quietly, his eyes burning into mine.

I love you. I love you. How often had Seth given me those words—and not only given them to me, but meant them—when we were together? I knew he meant them, just as much as I knew I had meant them when I’d said them back.

That’s why his abandonment hurt so badly. “You thought I betrayed you, didn’t you?” I ask. “When you went to jail and then into the Marines, you blamed me. And Jase.”

He nods slowly. “I blamed you most of all.”

A lump grows in my throat, so big and powerful I can barely breathe around it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to take the fall for us, for me—”

He places a finger under my chin. “You didn’t make the choice. I did. Out of everyone there, Rowan, you were a child compared to the rest of us. I knew what I was doing.”

“You never should have gone to jail. You were always better than any of us,” I say softly.

“Better than you?” Seth dips his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “No such thing. I could never be better than you. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful and wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

My eyes stay open when he kisses me. How am I supposed to stay strong when he says things that make me weak?





Seth


I don’t let our kiss last long, mostly because I wouldn’t stop at just a kiss. I have to be strong for Rowan, because right now she’s vulnerable. Soft. This version of Rowan isn’t one I’ve seen in a long time. There’s no way I’ll screw up just to get in her pants.

I press one last kiss to her forehead and simply hold her to me, gently rocking the swing. Her body melts into mine, and I finally relax a little.

If Rowan had her way, I’m sure she’d rather contend with only the physical aspect of our relationship instead of dwell on the emotional connection between us. She would welcome that, I think. For me, it’s not only about the physical aspect, though being inside of her is beyond amazing. Actually, words can’t adequately describe it. But sex with her, is…more. I don’t think I’m a * for recognizing that. Rowan is different, and I’ve been with enough women to confirm what I knew at seventeen.

We belong together. What we have is real, and nothing can change that—not war or distance or even time apart.

She makes a noise in her throat. “Why do you have to go and say stupid things like that?” she grumbles.

I smile at her disgruntled admission. “Because you need to hear it.”

“No, I don’t. I’m perfectly fine not hearing anything you have to say.”

Not going to work, baby. I’m staying right here in this swing with you. “What was college like?” I ask her, and she twists a little to look up at me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t go to a four-year university,” she says slowly, like she can’t quite wrap her head around the change in conversation. But this is how it has to be. Keeping her on her toes so that she doesn’t know what’s coming next is how I have to deal with her. “I went to community college while I worked for Miss Myrtle.”

“I’m aware of that, but was it fun?” I ask, pressing for more. I know very little of what she did once she graduated. The tidbits of information my grandmother gave me weren’t enough. “I’d like to think it was fun for you.” I have to. I don’t want to think of her sitting around and being depressed.

“Fun and me didn’t exactly go together too often—well, once I got partying out of my system,” she says dryly. “I had a lot of responsibilities after my first year of classes.”

“Marines weren’t exactly a cakewalk, either, but when it comes time to have fun”—I whistle—“those men know how to throw down. It’s insane how much my battle buddy can drink the night before we have PT—physical training—and not puke his guts up.”

“What happened to all those scholarships you had to go to UNC Charlotte?” She sits up and turns to me, pulling one leg up and wrapping her arm around it.

“They were rescinded.”

She winces. “I never thought about that happening. Guess that’s another strike against me…and Jase.”