UNTAMED

24. Holden

Iwake with a start, my fight-or-flight kicking in. I can feel the emptiness of the room, the absence of her even breathing. The coldness of solitary confinement stretches over me, paralyzing my body for a moment before sending me off the mattress and onto the floor. I finish fifty push-ups without breaking a sweat before moving into a one-armed position.

After twenty-five on the first arm, I switch to the other. My body heat seems to draw me into the present as I notice that my room is dark. The clock on my nightstand reads five thirty.

Why is it dark at five thirty? Where is Rosie?

The realization that she left my bed while I was sleeping after I told her not to hits me. However, it’s been four and a half hours, so someone probably came looking for her.

Just breathe. She’s probably in the kitchen, making dinner.

A cold shower is screaming my name. I’m jumpy, nerves still taut from waking up alone.

If I could just find Rosie, the panic would stop.

I decide to jump in the shower first, keeping the water temperature around the level of our deep freezer as I jump in and let it ease my aching chest and shoulder muscles. It takes over thirty minutes for me to start breathing in and out at a normal pace. I press my heated forehead against the tiles, closing my eyes.

This dependency on her is unhealthy. If I can’t find another way to sleep, I’ll have to fucking marry her. I can’t go on like this, waking up in a panic every time she’s not in my bed. The water streaming over me finally accomplishes the task of drawing me back to reality. I turn off the tap, climbing out and dressing in Wranglers and a pale green T-shirt.

I walk out into the hallway toward the kitchen. Low voices reach my ears as I approach.

“… in weeks. I don’t even know what happened the last time, but apparently, this isn’t so unusual for her. I could just tell she was super upset. I wish there were something I could do for her.” Dolly’s voice trails off as I come into view.

She shuts her mouth, standing up straight and walking over to the stove, where a pan of half-eaten lasagna is sitting.

“Hey, are you hungry? We’re having lasagna,” she says.

Duke and Sterling glance at each other before looking back down at their plates. The energy in the room is stifled with secrets. I know my family too well.

“What happened?” I approach the pan of lasagna, serving myself a generous portion.

My sister is tracing one of the veins in the quartzite countertop. She clears her throat before looking up at me.

“Rosie’s just having some family trouble. She left early, and she probably won’t be in tomorrow.”

I grab a fork, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the island. I attempt a neutral expression while my mind spirals into potential explanations for what could be happening in the Dixon family that would cause Rosie to take off work so suddenly.

Does it have something to do with the ranch? Did she find out about the M-59 and our visit to Idaho?

I take a bite, chewing slowly. I can feel Duke’s eyes on me. The room is silent, aside from the wind picking up outside. Charcoal-colored clouds loom outside as the trees dance.

“So, was she deep-cleaning your room or something?” Duke asks. His voice is tight.

I shove another bite in my mouth before looking over at my brother.

“No, she wasn’t cleaning my room.” I grab the pitcher of sweet tea and pour some into a glass, chugging the entire thing as he continues to stare at me.

“Then, why was she in there all afternoon?” His fork clatters against his plate, and he squares his shoulders back.

I know my little brother too well. This is about to get ugly if I don’t play it cool.

Too bad I’m in a shit mood and it’s been too long since I’ve been in a fight.

I lean back against the chair, stretching my legs out with a sigh. “Why are you so worried about it, little brother?” I try to hold back my smirk.

He glowers at me, his dark eyebrows lowering. He pops his knuckles as he slowly comes to a stand. “Are you fucking my ex-girlfriend?”

I wish.

What?

I look back down at my plate, answering him before shoveling another bite in my mouth. “Now, why on earth would you think that?”

“Because I saw her go into your room and sneak out three hours later. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Dolly gasps. “Oh my gosh, are you and Rosie really hooking up?”

I look up at my sister, swallowing before I answer, “Is that against the rules now or something?”

I should’ve just denied it, told them all it’s not what it looks like.

But then I would have to tell them I can’t sleep without her and that I’m paying her to stay in my room half the week. I’d also have to tell them why.

I’m the strong one, the leader of this family. I can’t come back half broken and unable to function. The ranch needs me. My family needs me. I don’t have the liberty of falling apart, like my father did.

And it’s nobody’s fucking problem, except mine, to battle these demons.

Duke lunges for me, tackling me to the ground, along with the barstool. My head smacks the wood flooring as he sends his fist into my jaw with an uppercut.

I crack a smile despite the wave of dizziness. “You’ve gotten stronger, little brother.”

He gets one more hit in for the assumed betrayal before I start to fight back. I roll him off of me, pinning his shoulders to the floor. He knees me in the gut, drawing a grunt from me as I try to restrain him without hitting him back.

He’s pissed off and not giving up. I use one arm to pin his right wrist down, but he throws an elbow in my face, hitting me in the nose.

All right, fuck this.

I rear back, landing a punch on his jaw before stepping off of him. Blood drips down from my nose, spilling onto my shirt.

“I’m not fucking her,” I tell him, wiping my nose.

He doesn’t stop to listen. He stands up, trying to throw another one in my face. I block it with my forearm. I return his punch with one of my own, sending him flying into the wall of the kitchen, leaving a divot in the Sheetrock. An old family picture crashes to the floor, shattering the glass. He lunges for me again, but I can see the move before he gets to me. I duck out of the way before reaching for his head and locking his neck in the crook of my elbow in a hold he can’t get out of. He claws at my arms.

“That’s enough! I told you I didn’t fuck her.”

“Then, why was she in there with you?” he yells.

Cash has joined us in the kitchen, and he and Sterling are casually eating dinner while observing the fight. Dolly is pacing with crossed arms. She’s used to brawls breaking out between us, but she’s never liked it.

“Okay, Holden, he heard you. Let him go,” she pleads.

I’m squeezing his neck just enough to limit his airway but not cut it off. I’m bigger and stronger than Duke, but he’s always been a damn good fighter. If I hadn’t been forced to work out for my sanity and fight for my own safety in prison, this would’ve gone on a lot longer, and he could have won.

I let him go, and he gasps for air.

“When did you get so fucking strong?” He stands up straight, red-faced and still angry.

My barstool is in a splintered heap on the floor, so I pull his over to where my plate is and sit down. I grab the napkin next to my plate and hold it up to my bloody nose.

“You think I sat around and sang ‘Kumbaya’ in prison after writing your pretty redhead a love letter?”

He lunges for me again. The urge to pull the knife from my pocket and slice his belly open, like I would if he were another inmate attacking me, rises. Shanks in prison aren’t a myth. My barstool topples to the floor again, the crack of wood splitting the air.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Dolly screams.

When I dodge his next blow, he catches me in the shoulder, jerking me sideways. I send my fist into Duke’s face again, letting this one go with more force. His body jolts back. I stand up again, panting and waiting for him to get up. He jumps to his feet, eyes clearly calculating his best shot.

Sterling steps between us, pressing a hand to both our chests. “All right. Can we just agree that no one is fucking anyone’s ex? Shit, the nurse isn’t even here right now to stitch you up. You’re getting blood on the damn floor.”

We’re both panting. Duke is glaring at me with a swollen eye and busted lip, and my nose is smarting while blood drips on my boots.

“Are you going to?” He spits out a bright red stream.

“On the floor? Really, Duke? You can mop it up yourself.” Dolly marches off toward the cleaning closet.

He’s glaring at me, demanding an answer. Sterling lowers his hands, but doesn’t step out from between us. My chest is rising and falling slowly. They’re all waiting for my answer, clearly curious about what my intentions are with Rosie.

“It’s none of your damn business who I take to bed.” I spit out the last word before walking back over to my cold plate of pasta, pulling over another barstool since Duke crushed the first two. “But if I was going to, I would’ve already done it.”

“That’s not an answer!” he roars.

Sterling holds him back by his shoulders.

I slam my fist against the counter. “She’s a Dixon. Her father’s the one who had Cash arrested, who sent me to jail and ultimately locked me up in solitary confinement by sending men to attack me. Warner would’ve gotten me off on probation if Clay Dixon hadn’t funded the prosecution and convinced them I was a danger to society, self-defense or not. You think I’d really take her to bed after everything her old man put us through? The fact that you’re so bent out of shape about it really is pathetic.”

The room falls silent. I grab a piece of garlic bread, shoving a bite into my mouth and chewing.

“You were in solitary confinement?” Dolly asks quietly.

I close my eyes, exhaling. My voice is more even now. “My point is, their family has been trying to ruin ours for years, since before I killed Cain for what he did to Dolly. I know you’re all in love with her, but Rosie Dixon will never be one of us. She can work here, but she’s not going to be a Redford. Ever.” I look over at Duke’s bloodied face and clenched jawline. “And we’re done spilling Redford blood over the enemy.”