25. Sage
sage
The prickle of awareness followed me as I finished closing. When I turned, my gaze connected with Christian’s, mirroring my own worry and concern. He’d insisted on staying to help me close, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.
As soon as I locked the door, the adrenaline rush started to dissipate. My limbs felt heavy and loose, yet restless. My head swam like I was floating through a fog as I went to him.
The bar was silent except for the hum of the neon signs and Christian racking the pool cues. Another snowfall was blanketing Willows, buffering the stillness.
It should have been tranquil, but instead it was unsettling, like the quiet before a storm.
He’d since shed his jacket and hat, setting them on the bar where they waited for us to leave.
The Henley he was wearing stretched across his broad chest and hugged his biceps.
The sleeves were pushed up revealing golden skin corded with muscle.
Despite his fat lip and the bump on his head, he looked good tonight.
Dark jeans accentuated his riding muscles and that ass all the women were staring at back in Vegas.
His wavy, dark blond hair curled where he had it tucked behind his ears.
He’d grown it out and now I couldn’t help thinking about what it might feel like running my fingers through it.
I leaned my hip against the pool table. “Let me see it.”
Christian inched closer, leaning down slightly so I could take a look at his face.
Tentatively I raised a hand, brushing my fingertips beneath his bottom lip.
His mouth parted at my touch as he released a breath that brushed across my face.
His tongue darted out, feeling the cut. It had stopped bleeding but was already swollen.
“You should ice it,” I said in a breathless whisper.
He nodded and when he didn’t say a word, I looked up into his eyes. The green irises were dark in the dim light, his pupils dilated. Christian shifted, making me shift until my back was to the pool table. He leaned toward me, his hands bracing themselves on the table, bracketing me in.
“We should talk,” he finally said, his voice gravelly. A stern edge to it I’d never heard from him before.
“Yes, we should,” I agreed.
His arms tensed beside me like he was holding back. Those blown pupils caressed my face. Heat coiled in my belly, my own desire growing. It felt as though I was holding on to a thin thread, one that could so easily snap with a single tug, causing my rules and boundaries to be forgotten.
“Before you say anything,” he said. “I want you to know that I don’t regret what I did tonight. I don’t regret calling you my wife and I don’t regret hitting that asshole in the mouth. I’d do it all again.”
I didn’t doubt it. I nodded dumbly, my head feeling heavy on my shoulders.
“I’m not going to apologize for something I don’t regret.”
“I don’t expect you to.” My hands went to his chest, my fingers aching to either push him away or dig into the fabric of his shirt.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
The question came as a surprise, but I’d already decided I could.
He’d proven to me more than once that I could trust him.
My only hesitancy was this intrinsic need to protect myself from hurt, to have some semblance of control.
When my relationship with Clayton started, I’d ignored my intuition.
Attraction led to falling and now I wasn’t sure I could trust my instincts.
But that’s why I had rules. That’s why I hadn’t let him kiss me again. Why our physical relationship had only stayed on our text thread.
But I could tell Christian’s patience was wearing thin.
Just him standing here hovering over me, his muscles nearly quivering to keep himself from touching me, was hard to watch.
There was a pain there that made my chest ache, that stoked a need inside me that hadn’t awakened in a very long time — if ever.
“I trust you,” I finally said.
“Tell me why he’s here, what he wants with Chuck.”
My throat felt tight. I swallowed. “Junior showed up on the reservation.”
His brows shot up in surprise and he pushed off the pool table to stand upright. “That was the last thing I thought I’d hear.”
“Clayton wrote a letter, intending it to go to Hazel. When I saw his name on the envelope, I panicked and went to visit her. She didn’t know anything about it and told me to give it to Chuck.
I think Junior is working with him in some way.
As soon as he heard Junior was from Willows—” I shook my head.
“—I think somehow he knew my brother was here or he knew I was here — he saw an opportunity. He has power. He’s well-known and well-respected on the Rez, and with money at his disposal from his ranch …
Let’s just say he’s used to getting what he wants.
He doesn’t take stealing lightly, and Junior is claiming Thornbrush Ranch land belongs to him. ”
Christian’s brows furrowed. “Jude told me about that bullshit after the fire. Junior claims his family’s land was taken by the Larsens. So, you think he struck some deal with Clayton?”
“His brother Jesse did and I think Junior must be continuing it. Looks to me like Chuck is just wanting to handle this his way.”
Christian scoffed. “Junior better hope he never steps foot back in Willows. After what he did to the ranch, taking Penn, assaulting Romy two summers ago, not to mention the obstruction of justice, trying to send Hazel to jail for life for killing his brother — he’s a dead man walking if Chuck has it his way. ”
I gulped. The last thing I wanted was for more harm to come to the Larsens after all they’d done for me. They’d become family.
“Clayton said something tonight — that it was never free to give. That you weren’t free to give. What did he mean?”
I sucked in air through my nose like it stung. “I am free.” It was as much a reminder for myself as it was to assure him. “He just thinks he never consented to that freedom.”
I looked down at my boots. Christian still stood close enough that his toes practically touched mine.
This was hard to talk about. I’d told no one about my time with Clayton, other than my therapist. I’d thought about telling Lina and Romy two summers ago when we’d learned Hazel had been abused by Jesse and had been planning an escape before it all went to shit.
But then I chickened out, feeling that it wasn’t about me, so it wasn’t the time to share my truth with them.
Time passed and the right opportunity never resurfaced — that was my excuse, at least. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to share it … until now.
Fatigue washed over me. I was done being on my feet.
I peered back up at Christian and he waited patiently for me to continue, his eyes intent on my face. “It’s late, Christian. I’m so tired. Could you drive us home and I’ll tell you?”
There was something more comfortable about telling him while his hands were occupied and we weren’t looking at each other.
He nodded. “We’ll come back for your car tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
We seemed to have important conversations in his truck while he drove through town.
Snow was falling at three a.m. making this time of night feel peaceful.
We got onto the highway and headed toward the Riggses’ farm.
I twisted my gloves in my hands while he drove, but my exhaustion seemed to loosen my tongue.
“Clayton was my boss at the casino when we met. I was working as a bartender at night so I could work on my art during the day. Those first few months were a whirlwind.” I gulped because I had a feeling Christian didn’t want to hear all the details, but he needed to know.
“We were obsessed with each other. He showered me with gifts and paid for me to attend art classes. He insisted I quit bartending. We spent so much time together, he eventually asked me to move into the penthouse he owned. I attended important dinners and stock shows with him. He took me on elaborate trips and threw out my wardrobe so he could buy me a new one that was more suitable for appearances with him. I didn’t realize it at first, but he was also isolating me from friends and family — my mom and stepdad, my grandmother.
He bought me a new phone so he could keep track of me and gave me a car that I later learned was tracked. ”
Christian stared ahead into the falling snow as he drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as if he was keeping himself from turning off to the side and holding me.
“He’s important on the reservation, well respected — a businessman, a rancher, and charismatic to boot.
He fought head on with lawyers, state politicians, and magistrates to maintain our sovereignty and protect our land, and he always won.
He was a good man and I was proud to be with him …
” I tried to focus on the snow. We were driving slowly because of the roads, but it felt like we were flying through it the way the snowflakes were falling.
“It started one night when we’d both been drinking.
I was angry that I was holed up in the penthouse while he’d been gone.
He got in my face and I shoved him. I told myself later it was my fault.
I shouldn’t have touched him while he was so angry.
I shouldn’t have triggered him. I shouldn’t have picked the fight in the first place.
He hit me for the first time that night.
He was so apologetic afterward, so attentive holding ice to my cheek.
He begged me to forgive him. He doted on me for days after that.
Bought me expensive makeup to help cover up the bruise on my cheekbone and sent me away to a spa while I healed. ”
My heart pounded in my ears, memories flashed in my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily to try to silence them before looking back out into the winter night.
“He was more careful after that, making sure that he never touched my face.”
My throat was growing tight, a sting forming behind my nose. I drew in a fortifying breath and Christian finally trusted himself to drop one hand from the steering wheel to squeeze my knee in comfort. I glanced over at him and he gave me a soft, sad smile despite the hard line of his clenched jaw.
“Before long, he’d isolated me so much that I felt like there was no way out.
It was two years of that until I felt brave enough to look for a way out, but I should’ve been more careful.
” I returned to looking out the window when Christian returned his eyes to the road.
“I found a sanctuary for battered women and rescue horses. The same one Hazel was supposed to go to. I thought I was clever, using a computer in the casino lobby to search for a place and then memorizing their phone number so I didn’t have to save it in my phone.
I’d gotten brave, not thinking he’d figure it out.
I think he knew when I planned to leave.
He bought me a dress and insisted I accompany him to dinner with his business associates.
I always had a role to play at dinners like that, ones where I was bubbly and flirty, fawning over them and essentially being the entertainment.
I was tired of playing that part, I no longer—” I halted on the word because I knew now how untrue it was in the first place.
“—loved him, and I wanted out. I told him I wasn’t going to go to dinner.
He tore my clothes off me, choked me, and shoved me into our walk-in closet, locking me in there.
I collided hard with a shelf. I’m pretty sure now that I broke a rib.
” I rubbed my side as though I could still feel that sharp pain.
“He told me that he wouldn’t let me out until I put on the dress.
I told him I was hurt, refusing to go to dinner.
He eventually was late enough that he had to go and said he’d deal with me later.
I panicked, thinking he’d kill me, so I used one of my heels to break the handle off the door and get out.
I got dressed, threw some things in a backpack, grabbed my phone, and left. ”
Christian gave my knee another squeeze, reminding me he was there. “You were so brave.”
I pressed my lips together. All I’d ever had to be was brave whether I wanted to be or not.
“I was careless. He tracked my phone and the Jeep he gave me. He found out where I was going. I had to call them and ask for help and they gave me an address, but when I had to get rid of my phone and the tracker I found on the Jeep, it was pouring rain and the napkin I wrote it on got wet. I didn’t know where I was going, only that it was just outside of Willows. ”
We pulled onto the gravel road that led to the Riggs farm just then. Just as I had that time.
“I drove all night and with what I could read on that smeared napkin, I wound up … here.” I said here right as we pulled to a stop in front of the house.