Recipe for Love (Jupiter Tides #1)

by Anne Malcom

Even with Rowan’s constant presence. I had considered him to be some kind of force of magic, able to fix everything. Able to keep me safe from anything. To bring forth happiness.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re my woman. And you’ve lost something important. Part of yourself. You’re hurtin’ in a way that I can’t fix. Can’t even take the edge off.”

“I can’t do anything to make you hurt less,”

“But I can make sure you don’t freeze to death outside. He rubbed my arms as if to warm me. As if that were possible. “I can make you somethin’ to eat.” He stroked my face.

And you can eat it or not. But it’ll be there. And you’ll have something to draw strength from. So tomorrow you can make calls. So you can do whatever you need to do.”

Tomorrow. Such a benign word. An everyday concept. There was always a tomorrow, wasn’t there? But now there wasn’t. There wasn’t a tomorrow. Because my brother was lying on a cold slab in a morgue somewhere.

“There’s a word for orphan,” I whispered. “For widow. But there’s no word for this. There’s no label to give the woman who lost her b...

“Your mother is really fuckin’ lucky I’ve got a code about committing violence against women.” “Yeah, well, cockroaches can’t die anyway,” I smiled sadly. “She’ll survive the nuclear apocalypse."

“Redid my makeup for me. At least he tried to. He cursed himself for ‘not being that kind of gay.’”

“You’ll waste away here, honey,” he said gently. “And you’re only here because of me. But I promise you here and now that I’m okay. And the only way I won’t be is if I see my sister sacrificing her dreams for me.”

“It’s my fault.” “No, it’s fuckin’ not,” Rowan immediately hissed. So predictable. He stepped up. Wanted to go to bat for me. Protect me. Even from myself.

“It is,” I protested, looking up with dry eyes. I was in too much pain to cry. I hadn’t known that was a thing. That your body could be in so much agony that there wasn’t a way to expel it physically. “I left him. I made a life here.” I waved my hands around my living room. The one I’d been so proud of, my eyes grazing over all the things I was so proud of. Now every fucking thing haunted me, taunted me, showing me what I had and what my brother hadn’t. I wanted to tear it all to shreds. “I was too much of a coward to stay there, be near her. And I wasn’t strong enough to get him to leave with me. He was half of me, and I just… left him. To die.”

“Enough.” The single word was a solid thing, jolting me. “He was half of you,” Rowan acknowledged. “And knowing how stubborn you are, I know that you couldn’t convince him to do anything he didn’t want to do. That he wasn’t ready for. You can’t take that on. And though I didn’t know him, I know that he adored you. Know he’d be really fuckin’ pissed off you’re laying the blame at your own feet. This is a tragic thing. A fucking horrific thing. It doesn’t make sense. It won’t make sense. Even the people we’r...

“What makes you think that I’m going to be the one arranging your funeral?”

“We both know I’m gonna get off of this ride early, sis. You’re gonna be the one living the long, wonderful life. Growing old with some husband who adores you. Surrounded by grandchildren.”

Rowan was by my side, stoic and stone faced. His hand was on my thigh, staring daggers at my mother. Though the woman wasn’t unnerved by much—she was one tough bitch, I’d give her that— I knew that Rowan was making her uncomfortable.

Liked that my mother wasn’t on even footing, didn’t sling her venom quite so easily as she might’ve had my strong, tall, unyielding protector not been constantly by my side.

“Keep your voice down,” Mom hushed. “This isn’t seemly.” “Oh, give me a fucking break, Mom. You grew up in a trailer; you have no fucking clue what’s seemly.”

I looked at the funeral director, his expression still impassive. “He’ll be cremated,” I informed him. Then I turned on my heel and left, Rowan at my side, where he’d be for the foreseeable future.

“Can I speak to my daughter for a moment? Alone?”

“No, you fuckin’ can’t,”

“I loved him.” She looked out at the skyline. “I know you don’t think that’s true. But I love both of you.”

“As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I made a promise to myself,” she continued. “That I wouldn’t let you grow up like I did. I’d find a way to give you opportunities.”

I sipped my drink because the alternative was to hurl it at her head. Was she really trying to twist our entire shitty childhood and her neglect into her working hard to give us more? Give me a fucking break.

“He was a fucking marvel,” I hissed. “He loved you because love was all he had inside him. He wasn’t capable of hating you, resenting you, blaming you like you deserved.”

She was bleeding. Her insides torn apart. It hurt just to look at her. To see the pain clinging to her every cell. And I couldn’t do a thing about it. Not a fucking thing. She lost the single person on this earth she’d loved the most, her blood. Her other half.

She was doing fucking well at pretending she was okay. She was functioning by taking care of shit.

Then it was straight back here, straight back to work. No fucking pause. And no way was she listening to me when I’d tried to tell her she should take a break. She’d firmly said no, though with a tremble in her voice. She was clinging to the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. I didn’t know how to convince her I could catch her. Didn’t know how to prove it to her. Her whole fucking life, she’d had to take care of herself. Her brother. There had never been anyone there for her when she fell apart. She didn’t know how to let that happen. She was terrified. So, I just had to watch. And wait. Though it was killing me.

“Sometimes there is no answer, honey,” Gunner had told me gently. “Not one we can know. Ansel took it with him. Just know that he didn’t want to leave. He just didn’t know how to stay, feeling the pain we couldn’t see.”

“If I could bring your brother back, I would,” he murmured. “I would do anything to not see you in this kind of pain. I’d sell my fuckin’ soul to the devil.” He rested his forehead against mine. “But I can’t. Neither can you. You can’t drink away the feelings either.” He stroked my jaw with his thumb. “But if you want to keep tryin’, I’m gonna be at your side, and you sure as shit won’t be at a dive bar on your own.”

Home. My house had always just been a place for me. I’d created a pretty one, to be sure. But home had always been Ansel. That’s why I was at the bar in the first place. Because I was drifting, anchorless. Homeless. But staring at Rowan, I realized that I had a home. I was staring at him.

Not healed. I’d never be healed. There would always be an open, bleeding hole inside of me. I wouldn’t ever feel happiness in the same way I had before. But I also wasn’t going to sink into the pit of despair, despite how damn tempting it was. Then again, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to since I had friends who wouldn’t let me do that. Rowan wouldn’t let me do that. He was there. Always. His hands on my body, his mouth on mine, making me feel alive. Making me feel excited to be alive.

Oh, how tempting it would be to take him up on that offer. To stay where I was safe. But I couldn’t do that to him. To us. And I wanted more of Rowan. I wanted to see where he came from.

“But…” I cleared my throat. “You couldn’t have known how sweet my … pussy was when you run him out of town.”

Rowan’s eyes flared and my aforementioned pussy pulsed with need. “Oh yes I fuckin’ could’ve, cupcake,” he growled, standing and taking me with him. I let out a little squeal of surprise. “So fuckin’ sweet I’m gonna have to eat you right here right now to get that bitter taste of that asshole off my tongue,” he said, walking inside and laying me on the counter.

And there it was. One of the many ways Rowan distracted me from the pain. Showed me sweet. And being in expert in sweet, I knew that there was no past...

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Derrick,”

“Oh, none of that Mrs. Derrick crap.” She waved her hand. “It’s Jill, or… Mom if you’d like. I won’t force it if it’s too odd for you.” She gave a wicked smile to Rowan who was rounding the car. “Jesus fucking Christ, Mom. You’re gonna scare her away before she even gets in the front door,” Rowan grumbled, but a practiced ear heard the loving warmth in his tone.

“And you, my dear, are even more irresistible.” She glanced up to me. “I bet it was love at first sight, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, it was,”

My cheeks heated with a blush, from the charged silence that came after my words, and from the way that Rowan was looking at me that was totally inappropriate considering his mom was right there.

“And he will explode if he can’t do the ultra-masculine thing of carrying bags of baked goods lest his girlfriend dare strain herself with them,” I commented dryly.

“Those hellions are my children.” She gazed lovingly at the kids who were now tearing around the front yard with Maggie barking playfully at them. “Say hello to Nora,” she yelled at them. “Hello, Nora!” they called out dutifully. “Little savages,” she chuckled. “But we love them.”

He hugged me in greeting. “My son does know how to pick them,” he said once he let me go. “Fucking gorgeous.” He winked. “And I hear a successful businesswoman.”

“Take these, won’t you, Dad?” he asked his father, gesturing to the bags. His father took them, but not before leaning in to kiss his son on the cheek. “Good to see you, son.” It made me feel all melty to see the easy affection displayed by even the alpha males in the family.

“Why you’re saying that like it’s a bad thing baffles me.” “I’ve got everything I need right here,” Rowan replied, squeezing me tighter. Cue more melty feelings.

Hope. Hope that I could be a part of this family. “You deserve this, sis,” Ansel’s voice sounded from somewhere deep inside me.

“Well, you could’ve just stayed here, taken over your father’s business so the man could retire,” she argued. Rowan chuckled. “Mom, you know the day Dad retires is the day hell freezes over.”

Jill rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. Your father deserves to spend his twilight years doing whatever he wants.” “What he wants is to continue working,” Rowan’s father cut in. “You know I’d drive you fucking mad if I was here full-time. You wouldn’t be ready for all that extra energy I’d have to direct elsewhere,” he waggled his brows. Jill peered at him over her wineglass. “Oh, you think that, do you? Try me.”

Calliope groaned. “Can we not have Mom propositioning Dad in the middle of Christmas dinner? Just once?” “Oh, be happy that your mother and father have a healthy sex life,” Jill told her. “I am happy,” Calliope retorted. ...

“Nora, you are supremely talented,” Jill gushed, her plate clear and helping herself to my hot chocolate cake. “Your bakery is just what we need here in our town.” Rowan stiffened slightly beside me. “Mom,” he said, tone warm, but there was an edge of warning.