Protecting Her Secrets (Mountain Men of Culver Springs #1)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Walker

She bites her lip and considers it, as if I just asked her a complicated question when it should be the easiest to answer. The fact that it’s not has me wondering what my next step will be. I told her I wouldn’t sign those papers unless she was in a better place than the one I could give her, and from what I’ve seen and heard, she’s not even close to that.

Since she’s here so desperate for my signature, I’m assuming she doesn’t know she could take her divorce request to any judge in the state and get a default judgment, or hell, probably an annulment, for that matter. I know I should tell her, but I also should’ve done more to help her get away from her dad and the club fifteen years ago. This is my one chance to try again.

Only this time, I’m not a boy trying to figure out my own life. I’m a man who’ll fight for her—not so I can trap her here in this small town with me, but so she can know what it feels like to be in charge of her own future. If I’m the one she ends up wanting, I’ll protect and cherish her for as long as she’ll let me. If not, I’ll help her get where she wants to go.

Protect her and cherish her for as long she’ll let me? What am I talking about? We don’t even know each other anymore. So why does it feel so right for her to be here in my space? Like everything I’ve done up until this point was just biding time until she came back to me?

“No,” she finally says. “I don’t love him. I don’t even like him.”

“Then explain why you can’t leave. I know you said there’s nowhere he can’t find you, but break it down like I’m one of your preschoolers. Tell me what makes him so different that you can’t leave like you would any other man you don’t want to be around.”

“All clubs have rules, hierarchies, and traditions, but most have evolved with the times. The Broken Rebels have not. Everything about them has stayed the same since the sixties, when my grandpa came back from Vietnam and got together with some of his other buddies who were having a hard time adapting. They craved the regulations and routines they had while they were serving.

“When my dad took over as president after my grandpa died, he didn’t see why anything should change. And why would he? He’s at the top of the food chain; everything is golden for him. That’s true for all the men in the club, really. They think they’re honoring their way of life by being criminals, that their traditions give them permission to treat women like possessions.”

“But really, they’re just assholes,” I add on.

“It hasn’t been all bad.” She’s quick to defend. “I had an amazing childhood. All the men and women in the club were like aunts and uncles. They treated me like I was special and showered me with attention. Even my dad. For all his faults, I still can’t say he was a bad dad because he wasn’t. He was strict and protective, but I always knew he loved me. And before my mom died, she did her best to prepare me for the role I was expected to fill.”

“You realize how insane all this sounds, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I pulled away the last few years. It actually worked out well. Klutch wasn’t looking to get saddled with an old lady, so as long as I made a very vague agreement to marry him someday, I had all the freedom I wanted.” She picks at invisible lint on my shirt. “I wasn’t anticipating my dad dying so young, but I guess chain-smoking your whole life will do that to you. One day he was fine, and the next, he was dead. As VP, Klutch stepped into the role of Prez until an official vote could happen, and he feels like marrying the princess of the club will ensure the vote goes his way.”

“So now it’s time to pay the piper, so to speak?”

“Yeah.”

“And the bruises?” I ask hesitantly, hoping she doesn’t pull away.

“Just accidents,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

She’s being more forthcoming than I thought she’d be, so I let that go. . . for now. If and when I find out that asshole laid hands on her, she won’t have to worry about him coming after her because he won’t be breathing. “So let’s say you don’t go home and he comes to find you. What would he do?”

She hefts out a breath. “He’d probably drag my ass home by my hair.”

“Caveman style, huh?” I joke, earning me a small smile. “Though that doesn’t seem like a biker thing to do.”

“No, you’re right. It’s more his style to ride into town with a few of his buddies, find out where I am and threaten my life, my best friend’s life, maybe even my preschoolers’ lives if I don’t go willingly.” Her eyes gloss over, and her entire body sags.

My mind immediately conjures up different ways to help this woman, pinning the ideas that keep her here in Culver Springs at the top of the list. I want her safe, but I’m not a martyr. “I could protect you.”

Her head starts shaking before the last word leaves my lips. “It’s not the only reason I have to marry him.”

My hands rub up and down her thighs as she tells me about the house she grew up in and how she’ll lose it if she doesn’t marry him. She’s quick to defend her decision as if I wouldn’t understand, but I do. It’s true Mom and I moved around my whole childhood, but I don’t think it’s the actual home she wants to keep a hold of; it’s the memories. And that’s something I can relate to.

Mom might not be dead, but she might as well be for how much she cares about me. Before she remarried, we were two peas in a pod, just trying to survive. She worked a couple jobs and if I wasn’t at school, I was doing whatever I could to contribute, even if that meant stealing a couple cans of soup from the corner store.

We didn’t have much, but we had each other, and no one can take those memories away from me, just like Klutch or her dad can’t take hers away—even if they take away the house. I try to explain that when she interrupts me.

“It’s all I have left.” She shrugs. “I’m in my thirties and have nothing to my name except a piece of shit car, a month left on a lease to a decent apartment, a plant I picked up on a street corner with a sign that said ‘free,’ and my childhood home.”

“You think your mom would want you to suffer in a life you hate in order to keep a house?” I ask.

She sucks her lips in as she thinks about it before releasing them. Fuck, she has a beautiful mouth. “No, but I’m out of time and options, and it might not be so bad. Once I give him a son, I’m sure he’ll have no use for me and leave me alone.”

My blood boils, and without realizing it, I’ve tightened my grip on Skylar’s thighs. She inhales sharply and rests her hands on mine, and I release my hold on her. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t hurting me. You just tensed up and zoned out.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “This grown-up version of you can be kind of a dick sometimes, but I know for a fact one thing hasn’t changed. You’d never hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t,” I say, reaffirming her statement. “And I don’t want to sit back and allow anyone else to hurt you either.”

“You can’t control what other people do.”

“I know.” I push my T-shirt up her legs enough to show the bruises I saw yesterday. “Trust me, I know.”

“I better get dressed.” She climbs off me, careful to keep herself covered.

My head flops back on the sofa, and I stare at the ceiling. “There’s a clean stack of clothes in the bathroom by your room.”

While she’s gone, I decide we need a change of scenery and an activity. I gather some supplies and take them upstairs to set everything up. This is the kind of thing I did for her when we were younger and I believed in love. But then Skylar left, and I tucked away every ounce of vulnerability I possessed. Now here I am, opening myself up again, fully knowing I’ll end up hurt.

Nothing has changed. She’s still choosing the club over me, and I’m still the gullible asshole allowing her to come in and out of my life whenever she feels like it. I can’t even blame her because she has never once lied to me or downplayed her situation, never asked me to save her, even though I keep trying. This is a me problem, and unless I want to feel the pain of my heart breaking again, I need to stop pretending this is anything other than what it is.

I stand from my reading chair and pick up the bottle of champagne and carton of orange juice, hoping I can get this cleared away before she’s done showering and getting dressed. No such luck, though, because when I turn to go down the stairs, she’s right there on the landing.

“What’s all this?” she asks.

Damn, I’m too late. “Sometimes, when I’m stuck in the house and bored, I say fuck it and get drunk. I thought we could do that while we snack and put together this gazillion-piece puzzle.”

“A puzzle?” She looks stupefied.

“It was a bad idea. I’ll just clean?—”

“No, wait. I’ve just never sat down and done a puzzle before.” Her damp hair is in one long braid hanging loosely over her shoulder, and she tucks a few wayward curls behind her ear as she sits cross-legged on the ground. “This’ll be fun! I’m not much of a drinker anymore, but I’ll take some OJ.”

I pour us both orange juice—since I’m not drinking alone—and she dumps out all the pieces. Then, for the next three hours, we puzzle. All the heavy talk from earlier has been pushed aside as we reminisce and fill in gaps from the time we lost. There’s even comfortable silence at times when we’re content to work on this stupid picture of a cat sitting by a window, painting the scenery.

“You don’t strike me as a guy who buys puzzles,” Skylar says. We’ve moved on from orange juice to sodas—Diet Coke for her and regular Coke for me—and I made simple turkey sandwiches for lunch. She scarfs it down and it makes me grin, remembering my girl always did have a big appetite.

My girl ? Fuck. My thoughts have gone rogue. However, it’s strange how we’re instantly comfortable with each other, as if no time has passed at all. It makes it hard for me to remember this is temporary, that she still isn’t going to choose me. But being with her like this makes it easy to get lost in the moment.

“I’m not. Honestly, I forgot it was here until I was trying to think of what we could do today.”

“So where’d it come from?”

“Wilder talked me into attending the Christmas party the town puts on down at the community center. He had to go, being the sheriff and all, but it turned out to be fun. The little kids were dressed in frilly dresses and little suits, and one of the Geezers, Mike, dressed like Santa Claus, and people sang carols.”

“Geezers?” She stretches, arching her back and thrusting her chest out. If it’s possible, I’m even more attracted to her now. It’s not just the way her body has changed; it’s the confident way she expresses her opinions, the maturity in her worldviews, that captures my attention.

As each moment passes, I see more of her old self, the firecracker, emerge. The hesitant glint in her eye is gone, as if she truly believes she’s safe here now, and it fills me with pride that I can give her this moment when she can just be. But as she readjusts the shirt I gave her to wear and I spot her hard, braless nipples poking through the fabric, I knock myself down a peg because she’s clearly not safe from my dirty thoughts.

“Walker?” She snickers, knowing she caught me creeping.

I rub the back of my neck, averting my gaze. “Since it’s such a small town, all the old people have banded together and call themselves the Geezers. They are Culver’s Springs’ unofficial social committee, watchdogs, grandparents, and the biggest gossips you’ll ever meet. All of us in the younger generations keep an eye on them, even though they’re annoying as fuck and stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

She smiles. “That’s so wholesome.”

“You won’t think that when you meet them.” I pause, wishing that could be true. “I guess you probably won’t meet them, though, huh?”

“Maybe I’ll come back one of these days for a visit.”

I gentle my tone for what I’m about to say as much as possible, not wanting to offend her but desperately needing her to listen. “Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

Putting down the puzzle piece, I heft out a breath and sink from my knees to my ass. “When I saw you in that grocery store, the only thought I had was that I didn’t want you here. I don’t hate you and have been curious about how you’re doing, but I’ve never been more lost than I was when you left me. You know I was already broken after my mom basically disappeared from my life, but then you did the same thing, and I spent a lot of years after feeling like I had no self-worth. Truly believing there was something fundamentally wrong with me that everyone in my life left. I thought I was unlovable.”

“Walker, that’s not?—”

“After years of trying to figure out what I did to make you leave without even a conversation and coming up short, I realized it had nothing to do with me. But back then, there were a lot of nights I sat in front of a bottle of pills while I drank myself stupid, debating if I wanted to stick around.” I meet her eyes, being more honest with her than I’ve ever been. “I had no one and nothing, Sky. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to understand the power you had—have—over me. Now I’m gonna go through it all over again because I know once that snow melts, you’ll be gone. At least this time I have friends, I have my dog, and I have this house and my business.” I run a hand through my hair. “But even still, it’s gonna hurt, and I just don’t think I can do it a third or fourth time or whenever you decide to blow through town again.”

She swipes a tear off her cheek. “I get it. I know I keep apologizing, but I really am sorry.”

“I know you are, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings here, but your apologies don’t mean shit. They don’t erase what you put me through, and they don’t make me feel any better.” I hold up a hand when she opens her mouth to talk. “But you’re here now, so despite my better judgment, all I want is to enjoy the time we have. I just need you to promise that this time, when you walk out of my life, you don’t ever come back.”

She nods, dragging her upper lip through her teeth before whispering, “Okay.”