Chapter 22
RUBY
Several weeks pass, and my body is changing a little more each day.
At fourteen weeks, my stomach has finally started to round out into a small baby bump. My morning sickness has eased up, too, leaving me feeling almost… normal.
The bruises from the attack are long gone, and the aches have faded.
But the situation that put me in the crosshairs still lingers.
The club still has my brother tucked away, and the guys still run security like they’re waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Whoever wants Robby and what he owes is still out there, and that means the threat to me hasn’t disappeared.
What’s worse is that I can tell it’s eating at Catcher the most. It’s the not knowing, no face to put to it, and no target to hunt down and erase.
Just a shadow that keeps circling my life.
Catcher’s solution is simple. If the danger is still out there, then I’m not going to be out of his sight, or if he’s not around, one of the other guys plays babysitter.
He’s even roped my dad into watching over me on rare occasions.
Somewhere along the way, staying over turned into Catcher basically moving in.
His boots sit by my door, his clothes are hanging in my closet, and his toothbrush sits next to mine on the bathroom counter.
If I need to leave the house, Catcher is at my side.
When we come back home, he checks my locks twice, even when he watches me lock them.
If he has to leave, he makes sure someone else is close, and when he comes back, the first thing he does is sweep the house with that flat, lethal calm as if he expects to find a man in my closet.
With each passing day, he grows more and more restless because whoever is after my brother hasn’t made a move, and Catcher doesn’t know how to protect me from a threat that refuses to show itself, which is exactly why, when Promise, London, and Sadie showed up at my place with greasy paper bags from my favorite Cajun place, I practically jumped out of my own skin with excitement.
The first couple of months of my pregnancy were brutal, but with morning sickness practically gone, I can enjoy my favorite foods again.
That and I need some girl time. Catcher sensed it too because the second the girls showed up, he disappeared out the back door, and a few minutes later, I heard the lawn mower crank.
Now the four of us are sprawled out in my living room with empty food cartons and full bellies. The television is on mute, my hair is twisted up in a messy knot, and my bump presses softly against my leggings’ waistband.
“So, how are things with Catcher?” London asks with a glint in her eye.
I shrug. “Good.”
Promise’s brows lift. “Good? Just good?”
Sadie tosses a skeptical glance my way.
“Okay, yes,” I admit. “He’s practically moved in, and we have kind of fallen into a routine.
Things are good. We’ve moved past all the bullshit from before, and Catcher has been great.
He took care of me after I was released from the hospital, takes me to my doctors’ appointments, and we go grocery shopping together. ” I shrug again.
“Catcher and I get closer every day. He sleeps in my bed every night, he’s attentive in a way that still surprises me, and quietly makes sure I eat.
” I smile. “He’s always looking for a reason to touch me.
His hand at my lower back when I walk past him, his thumb brushing my wrist when he hands me a plate of food, his palm spread warm and steady over my bump when we’re lounging on the couch.
He doesn’t pretend he doesn’t feel things anymore, either.
If he wants to kiss me, he does. If he wants me close, he pulls me in. No hesitation.”
London sits up from her spot on the floor. “But?”
I throw myself back against the couch. “Don’t get me wrong,” I say, lowering my voice so that Catcher won’t hear me. “Things between us are… amazing.”
Promise’s mouth curves. “But?”
I huff out a breath. “But he won’t… take it further.”
My friends stare back at me, and one by one, they all share the same grin.
“He sleeps in my bed every night,” I go on quickly, because once I start, it all spills out.
“He kisses me like he’s starving. He touches me constantly.
He tells me I’m beautiful even when I’m in sweatpants and my hair looks similar to a rat’s nest. But when things start to get hot and heavy, he stops.
Like there’s an invisible line he refuses to cross. ”
London’s eyes narrow as if she’s doing math. “So, what’s the problem?”
Heat climbs up my neck. “The problem is my libido has… shot through the roof. Like, overnight.” I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “I’ve tried to give him hints. Subtle ones and not-so-subtle ones. I’ve basically been waving a neon sign.”
Promise bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “And he still won’t?”
“He still won’t,” I confirm. “He acts like I’m made of glass. Like, if he touches me the wrong way, I’m going to break. I’m pregnant, and I’ve been through a lot, but I’m not broken, for crying out loud!” I throw my hands up in frustration—sexual frustration.
Sadie sets her drink down on the coffee table. “Have you tried saying the words? Like, out loud?”
I’m sure my face reflects how horrified I look at the thought. “No! I can’t do that.”
Promise lets out a quiet laugh.
London leans back against the couch, eyes full of mirth. “Jump him.”
Sadie snorts while I look at London as though she’s lost her mind. “What?”
London repeats herself. “Jump his bones, Ruby.”
“Jesus Christ.” Promise shakes her head.
“I’m serious.” London looks at us like it’s the most logical choice.
Promise sighs. “As much as I hate to agree with London and one of her ridiculous ideas, I actually agree with her on this one.”
I snap my head in her direction. “You can’t be serious?”
London sits up straighter, looking smug.
I shake my head. “No way. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Sadie asks.
I look at the three of them as though they are nuts. “Because what if he rejects me? I’d never be able to live that down.”
“He’s not going to reject you.” London rolls her eyes at the notion.
“You don’t know that,” I counter.
“He’s a warm-blooded man with a dick,” London volleys back. “They are simple creatures.”
“Look, Ruby,” Promise cuts in. “What happened to you obviously scared Catcher. You said it yourself, the man is terrified you’re going to break. You’re going to have to show him you’re not made of glass.”
London nods. “Yeah, girl, get you some. Just climb on top and ride him until the sun comes up.”
Just then, the back door swings open. Catcher strides in, sweaty and shirtless, grass clinging to his skin in tiny green flecks. His chest rises and falls, and when he reaches into the refrigerator for a beer, the muscles in his back flex. The sight of him makes my mouth water.
London, Promise, and Sadie go quiet in unison, the way women do when they’ve decided something without saying it out loud. Promise starts gathering trash and empty cartons. Sadie grabs her purse, and London is suddenly on her feet.
“We should head out,” Sadie announces.
“What? You just got here,” I protest, but my eyes keep drifting past them to the kitchen where Catcher leans against the counter, beer in hand, clueless about the effect he has on me.
Promise presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Get some rest, Mama.”
Sadie squeezes my hand. “Call if you need anything.”
London lingers last, eyes cutting to the kitchen and then back to me. She gives me a slow, wicked smile and mouths two words, Jump him, before she turns and walks out the door.
The house settles into quiet the second they’re gone, and all I can hear is the soft hum of the refrigerator and the heavier sound of Catcher moving around in the kitchen. I tell myself to breathe, to act normal as I let my feet carry me into the kitchen.
Catcher is standing at the counter, half turned, beer bottle tipped to his mouth. A bead of sweat slides down his throat when he swallows. His gaze lands on me and holds, sharp and steady. “Have a nice visit with the girls?”
I nod but say nothing. For a second, neither of us moves. The air between us feels thick and charged. Catcher’s eyes heat as if he can hear what’s going on in my head and all the things I want to do to him.
London’s words flash through my head like a dare. I let out a breath that tastes like surrender. “Fuck it.” I fill the space between us and launch myself at him.
The beer clinks against the counter as Catcher reacts on instinct, hands banding around my waist and lifting me as if I weigh nothing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and his eyes flare, surprise first, then something darker and hungrier.
“Ruby,” he starts, like he’s about to remind me of every reason he’s been holding back.
“Don’t,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. “I need you. Please, Catcher.”
My plea is his undoing. The sound he makes in his throat is low and rough, and then his mouth is on mine, hot and possessive, as though he’s been starving for my taste. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search mine, like he’s still trying to decide if he’s allowed to want this.
I kiss him again in answer, slower this time, and whatever restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way. Catcher’s arms tighten, and he turns, carrying me out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bedroom, where he kicks the door shut. He sets me down on the edge of the bed.
“Catcher—”
“Garrett,” he cuts me off.
I blink. “What?”
“My name is Garrett. From now on, I’m Garrett to you.”
I smile and test out his name. “Garrett.”