“When did you get inked?” I blurt out, staring at the quote in the middle of his upper back.

Engraved upon my heart, forgotten she never will be. Oh, my bonnie Rowan tree.

“First year in the Corps.”

I swallow as I pull on my panties. “And that quote?”

“My version of a line from the poem ‘The Rowan Tree.’ ” He doesn’t bother to hide it. In fact, he doesn’t even turn around, just gazes at me over his shoulder. “See that scar, right beside the word heart? Bullet wound. Any closer and it would have fucked up my spinal cord.”

A small noise leaves my throat. I take a deep breath and finish dressing. Tears cloud my eyes. I’m sore and wet and completely undone as his arms wrap around me.

“I know you’re confused, and I probably shouldn’t have pushed you like this, but I’m not going to regret it,” he says. One of his hands starts stroking my hair, like I’m a little girl in need of comforting.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I finally say.

He leans back, his dark eyes searching my face. There’s so much tenderness there that I have to look away. “Baby, I want what you can give me.”

“What if I can’t give you anything?”

“You’ll give me everything,” he whispers. “Because you know I’m what you need.”

“Seth,” I begin, but he forestalls me with a slow, hot kiss. My mouth opens under his, and passion starts to swirl inside of me.

“God, if we had more time, I’d bend you over that desk,” he says against my lips.

“More time?”

“I have to leave,” he says.

“Leave?” Ice fills my veins. I shove him away. “Of course you do. Go on, then. Leave. It’s what you do best.” I can’t believe him. It feels as though acid’s been poured all over my raw heart. Once again.

He captures my wrists. “Rowan. I’m coming back. I have to meet with my commanding officer tomorrow and fill out some paperwork for my leave. I’ll be back Monday morning. I’ll drive straight to you.”

Hope begins to bloom in my chest, but I ruthlessly yank it out. “I don’t care. Stay, go…whatever. You’re not the only guy I can fuck around here.”

The look in his eyes makes me want to snatch my words back. “I am the only guy you can fuck anywhere. You’re mine, damn it, and that’s final. I’m coming back. And, fair warning, when I get back, I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you.”

I flinch at his choice of words.

“That’s right, I said make love.” He lowers his forehead to mine. “You got me?”

“No,” I protest, but it’s weak and halfhearted.

He kisses the corner of my eye. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I promise to come back.”

“I’m not crying.” Tears start falling uncontrollably down my cheeks. “I don’t cry.”

“Shit. This is all my fault.” He pulls me to him once more, holding me tight. “I’ll be back. I fucking promise, Rowan.”

I shake my head, crying into his solid chest. “No one ever stays,” I whisper, giving voice to my closest-held secret.

“Fucking promise, baby,” he repeats in his gravelly voice, but I’m too emotionally wrung out to argue anymore.

Seth

I hated leaving Rowan, but I hated lying to her even more. I don’t have to go to base to do anything, but I do have to prove to her that I am a man of my word—that I’m determined to stay and be in her life again. Physically leaving town and then coming back is the only way I know how to accomplish this.

My plan, though she’d probably be pissed as hell if she were to ever find out, is something I came up with on the fly. I drive to the outskirts of Raleigh, grab a bite to eat, and then get a hotel room for the next two nights.

My body’s full…sated from dinner and mind-blowing sex with Rowan. In an office chair. I hadn’t planned on that happening, but I’m sure as hell glad I keep a condom handy.

Habit, I suppose. I haven’t been with another woman in six months—not since I realized what I needed to do.

But I meant what I said to her. When I get back, I’m taking her to bed. I’m going to make love to her like I always wanted. When we were younger, our time together was always short, always frantic and full of worry. We didn’t want to get caught, yet we didn’t want to stop.

That’s not a worry either of us has now.

Grabbing my phone, I send Rowan a text. I don’t expect her to answer. She didn’t give me her number. I got it from Piper.

Me: I’m here. Miss me yet?

Shock and surprise nearly make me drop the phone onto my face when her reply is immediate. Hell, forget immediate. Try at all.

Rowan: Who is this?

Me: The guy who did you good this afternoon.

Rowan: Which one?

I laugh at her joke, and I take her response as an invitation to continue.

Me: Guess I’ll have to do a better job if you can’t remember…

Rowan: I’m pretty sure you’ll get lost between here and Jacksonville before you get the chance.

A direct hit, and no less than I deserve.

Me: You’re my compass, Rowan. I’ll always follow you back home.

Rowan: Your compass is broken.

Me: Nah. She just needs a little TLC.

I wait for her response, but after an hour I give up and watch a marathon of Full House. Pushing her too much will either tear us apart or bring us together again. Rowan’s natural response to anything is to fight—to do battle and challenge the status quo. It’s something I love about the girl. I don’t want a woman who’s meek and submissive. Give me the fire so I can get burned.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I grab it and stare at the screen.

Rowan: She needs a lot of TLC. ’Night.

“Oorah,” I shout. When I get back, I’m going to give Rowan all the attention and loving she needs.

Chapter 6

Rowan

It’s Sunday, visiting day at Western Prison, and I sit in a large, sunny room full of families and metal picnic benches. My brother is one of many inmates wearing orange and a permanent scowl. It’s hard to picture how Jase used to be: how much he joked around and was the life of every party we had. People naturally flocked to him. He had this presence about him.

But now…it’s like someone’s dimmed the light in the room, and I can’t see him like I used to. It makes my heart hurt, and I can only hope that one day, once all of this is behind him, he’ll be the old Jase again.

Though the chance of that happening seems to grow less and less as each passing hour, day, month, and year sucks more of his soul out of him.

“Seth is back,” I say to Jase as I hand him the package of Oreos I brought. “He came back to bury Miss Myrtle.”

He stretches his legs out in front of him and swings his head my way before opening the cookies. “I know.” His eyes close as he chews the first one, savoring the taste. “God, that’s good.”

“How do you know?”

“Got a letter from him last week¸” he says around a mouthful of cookie.

My mouth drops open. “He wrote you?” So it’s not just me he wants to apologize to apparently.

Jase shrugs. “I think his conscience got to him.”

“How long have the two of you been corresponding?” I demand.

“About a year,” he says. “Guy’s been through a lot.”