3. Jamison

"Why exactly are you tagging along?"

Sitting in the seat next to her, Rowan's fingers flew deftly over the keyboard of his laptop while she waited for him to answer. This was going to be a shitty weekend, and she was letting her petty monster loose on an easy target. He might be a lady's man, with his tousled black hair, well-sculpted body, and non-apologist attitude, but Jamison knew the truth.

"Rowan?"

Asleep in the back of the twelve-passenger jet, Taylor remained oblivious to their conversation, and Jamison poked Rowan's shoulder. "Answer me."

Clear blue eyes met hers. "What?"

"I asked, why are you tagging along?"

He shrugged, and his attention returned to the screen. "Because your brother said to come. There are some security issues at the offices there, and he wanted me to personally handle it."

Samuel trusted few, with Rowan being one of them. If there were a genuine threat to their security, he wouldn't allow anyone other than him to handle it.

"Does it have to do with Zanmi's press conference?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" That was a load of crap. Rowan knew everything that happened within Fairweather Holdings, and she kicked him with her shoeless foot. The move hurt her more than him, causing the petty monster inside to snarl. "Or is this trip more about you wanting to come skulk around my house so you can hang out with Annabeth?"

Through the years of working with him, she'd witnessed Rowan lure dozens of women with his charm. As a gorgeous specimen with a towering frame, and those intricate tattoos covering his arms and neck, the man was a walking sexual fantasy. Yet while he might be smooth and suave with every other female in the known universe, he was most definitely not that way with Annabeth.

The man had been smitten since he first laid eyes on her.

As far as Jamison knew, Annabeth had placed Rowan in the non-dateable zone from the start, and honestly, he didn't seem to mind. The two were friends—real friends—talking on the phone until all hours of the night when he was in Texas, and being almost inseparable if he were in Florida.

They were so stinking cute, and it made everyone roll their eyes as they waited for the inevitable to happen. Rowan hardly ever cracked a smile unless it was directed at Annabeth. He relaxed around her, dropping the gruff exterior.

It was the same for Annabeth. She positively bloomed when in Rowan's presence.

The friendship between them had started slowly. When Annabeth truly took the first steps at working through the agoraphobia which had held her captive for most of her life, Rowan had been there. From the beginning, he supported and cheered on her progress. These days Annabeth could ride in cars and keep regular business hours running her little beachside bookstore in the Firewater Beach shopping district. She even took kick boxing lessons—with a private instructor arranged by none other than Rowan—at the small gym close to the shop.

Annabeth was also making connections outside Haven House. Men flocked to her, and while she couldn't yet go on dates inside a restaurant, she would meet them at the small outdoor cafes littered throughout Firewater. She had even maintained one long-term relationship.

That is, until recently. Jamison couldn't recall when Annabeth had last gone on a second date, and she had an inkling Rowan had noticed too, thus the visit.

"Both," Rowan grunted. "Now be quiet."

Jamison chewed on her bottom lip, not wanting to be alone with her thoughts. "Why don't you just do it?" she asked. "Why can't you just walk up to Annabeth and say, you're the one I want? Why not just tell her you'll give her anything, as long as she's happy?"

Closing his laptop, Rowan arched an eyebrow. "Projecting much?"

She was, but he didn't have to be an asshole about it. "I'm allowed to be awful this weekend."

"Yippy."

"Are you sure I can't take you the rest of the way?" The Uber driver eyeballed the monstrously huge black metal gates in front of his car. "It looks like it's a long walk."

"It isn't," Jamison assured him getting out. "Thanks."

She waited until he turned the car around to wheel her suitcase over to the control pad and enter the passcode. Those were the rules, and she wasn't about to go against the Law of Simone.

The gates buzzed as they unlocked, swinging open to allow her entrance. She stepped through and waited for them to close again before dragging her suitcase down the gravel drive. On the plane, she had smartly switched out her heels for a pair of sneakers, but it still grated that they had to do all this because of Zanmi, and the occasional members of the media who would try to enter the grounds. The gates were the first defense to keep them out.

Rounding the end of the driveway, she stopped to give herself a moment. The estate lay in quiet peace, with the exception being a few creatures of the night preparing for sunset. Tragically beautiful, Haven House represented so many different things to so many different people. A prison. A sanctuary. A reminder of all they had lost. A promise of all they could be.

But to Jamison, it was simply home.

Majestic white columns held up the two-story main house which boasted a wraparound balcony on the second floor and a matching length porch on the lower level. Surrounding the home, gardens holding every color imaginable stretched across the front and side lawn in layers. Ty had planted the blooms to resemble a rainbow, and proudly maintained them until his health took a turn for the worse.

The gardens were Ty's final resting place now, his ashes buried deep in Haven's soil. They had lost him two years back, and his death continued to grip Jamison by the throat. She loved her father, but it had been Ty who had been there for it all. The big and the little moments in her life. He taught her how to ride a bike, tie her shoes, and throw a right hook strong enough to knock out any boy that took things too far.

She missed him tremendously.

Climbing the steps, Jamison left her suitcase by the front door and went to the side porch to sit on one of the many rockers facing the bayou. Oaks draped in swaying moss dotted the landscape, but it was the center one that mocked her. The Marriage Oak, where so many had made their wedding vows.

She finally chose to ignore the stupid tree, keeping her gaze trained on the cottages close to the shore. Abe lived in the middle one, while Selah liked to stay next door whenever he came for a visit. The others were used for storage, or if they had a rare guest stay over.

Except for the one at the end.

Dark and left to decay, the last cottage sat close to the entrance of the forest trails. No one ever went near it, and for all she knew, the inside could look like a time capsule from that awful day twenty plus years ago.

Someone approached, the shuffling of their slippers slowly coming up from behind. They stood without speaking, running fingers through her hair, as if she were still a little girl. Jamison allowed it, but when tears threatened, she reached for those steady hands to wrap around her.

"Welcome home, baby." Simone laid a kiss on top of her head. "How long have you been out here?"

Left motherless at a young age, Jamison thanked the universe for allowing this strong woman to raise her. "Not long."

Simone came around to sit in the chair next to her. "I've been waiting all day."

"I had to stay late and remind some men who was in charge."

"That's my girl."

They rocked in time together, neither needing to speak. Simone's presence was the calm in the storm, her ability to keep a level head second nature thanks to her own trauma.

Simone lost her husband the same night Jamison lost her mother. Both gunned down by a woman they considered family. Rebecca Miller's rampage kicked off a chain of events none of them ever recovered from, the echoes of it felt to this day.

The mistress of Charlie Fairweather, Rebecca had come to Haven House like Simone, pregnant with a Fairweather baby. But during her decade here, Rebecca never flourished like the other women, falling into a dark place after suffering years of neglect and manipulation from the man she loved.

And unable to dig herself out of that dark place, Rebecca made the decision to end it all.

On July 4, 1999, the great love story of Jamison's parents, Simone's happily ever after with her husband Devon, Rebecca's own life, and of the life of her eldest daughter, ended. Leaving those who remained mere shells of the people they once were.

In the distance, Abe rolled out of his cottage, waving to let them know he was coming over. A child at the time of Rebecca's rampage, he had been caught in the crossfire, and remained partially paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair. But where he once wallowed in his depression, Abe now embraced the world of botany—taking after his Uncle Ty—and was preparing to start a new job out in Texas.

The front door slammed shut, and Evie waddled out, balancing a bowl of ice cream on her gargantuan belly. "I have to hurry and eat this. The girls will be up from their nap soon." She sat in a rocking chair, groaning as her butt connected with the seat. "This is all for me, so no one ask for any."

"We don't want your ice cream," Simone said. "And watch your tone. The baby can hear."

Simone had been their mother's best friend, and when Laura Jean was gone, she had taken it upon herself to raise them. Jamison's father had wanted to, but he had been so lost in those first few years. It had taken him ages to pull himself together again.

At least that's what she'd been told. Jamison was a toddler when it all happened and remembered nothing.

"Watch my tone?" Evie's spoon clanged against the bowl as she scooped up a bite. "Samuel is way worse, especially when we're having sex. That man has such a dirty mouth on him."

"Thank goodness you're home," Simone said out the side of her mouth to Jamison. "Sex is all she talks about."

"Oh, I know, and it's freaking gross."

The three of them continued to rock quietly, the cool afternoon breeze bringing the scent of gardenias closer. Abe appeared after a few minutes, rolling to a stop next to Jamison. "I went by the kitchen." He handed her a glass of red wine. "Thought you might need this."

"Evie's talking about sex with Samuel, so yeah, I need it."

Shuddering, Abe backed away. "I'm not sticking around for that. Thanks to Evie, I've been having nightmares about Samuel trying to seduce me."

"You wish, big boy." The deep voice had come from around the front of the house, and a second later Samuel appeared. "Welcome home, brat."

Jamison tried to smile, wanting him to see how well she was doing. "Thanks."

An out of breath Annabeth rushed around the corner next, obviously driven home from the bookstore by Samuel. "We stopped by the winery close to my shop." She held up two bottles of wine. "And there's more in Samuel's car, so let's get this party started."