Chapter 9
I’ve spent the entire afternoon hiding in the room Roman has given me for the year.
I hadn’t expected the money to be transferred so quickly, but I’d used it as a distraction and an excuse to stay in this room, and I’d called everyone I needed to, to start paying off the debts.
I’d expected to feel lighter, but as that figure had dropped and dropped, my gut had churned even harder.
Now the day is closing, the sun barely holding on as it paints the sky in fiery oranges and reds, tipping the mountains beyond the window in gold.
The room is nice, bigger than my studio apartment, with a four-poster bed and its own fireplace.
There’s a private bathroom and a walk-in closet and so much space it almost feels cold in here.
Beyond the door, I can hear Roman moving through the house.
We didn’t say a word to each other after we made it back here.
He showed me the bedroom and then went and did some work outside, which I only know because I’d watched, somewhat fascinated by it.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had no shirt on.
But fuck, the man has muscles.
I only stopped watching because he happened to look up while I’d had my nose practically pressed up against the glass, and I’d hit the deck so hard, my elbows still hurt several hours later. I’m pretty sure they’re bruised.
Climbing off the bed, I head to my bag but pause when I hear his steps coming up the stairs. My breath stops altogether when his knuckles rap against the door.
Maybe if I don’t move or breathe, he’ll think I’m asleep and leave.
“Niamh?” Roman’s voice sends a shiver down my spine.
My eyes flick to the ring on the bedside table. I’d taken it off the moment I was alone as if that could somehow undo what I had just done.
“I know you’re awake, Niamh,” There’s a touch of frustration in his tone. “You need to eat.”
As if the words are enough, my stomach rumbles in response, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now past eight in the evening.
“I’ll grab something in a bit,” I call to him.
“There is dinner downstairs.” He says, “And it’s getting cold.”
“You want me to eat with you?”
I hear him scoff, “That is what civilized people do.”
Shaking my head, I pad across the room, the aged wood under my feet warm as I go, and I yank it open to find him leaning on the wall opposite.
He’s since changed from earlier, now in a simple pair of gray sweats and a white t-shirt that molds to the shape of him.
His hair looks messier than earlier, like he’s run his hand through it a few too many times, but I like it.
This slightly unkempt look, with the scruff around his mouth and a tendril of dark hair that falls over his forehead.
Amber eyes clash with mine, and one dark smudge of a brow lifts.
“That easy, huh?”
“I’m hungry,” I huff, pushing by him to head for the stairs. The smell of the food wafts up, and my stomach answers with an obnoxiously loud rumble.
“I can hear that.” Roman is at my back, and a touch of heat blooms in my cheeks. I follow the smell of the food to the dining room but freeze when I realize it won’t just be me and Roman eating tonight.
At the table, Silas wrangles two small children.
A young girl with the blondest hair I’ve ever seen, is hanging from his shoulder while a boy tugs on his arm, attempting to get an iPad he’s holding above his head.
Tired eyes, slightly darker than Roman’s, look toward us helplessly, silently begging for one of us to do something.
Roman is moving without hesitation, a chuckle rumbling from him as he scoops the girl up and throws her over his shoulder.
Now that she’s taken care of, Silas is able to extract the boy from his arm while I just stand and watch the show.
Roman has the girl in fits of giggles as he tickles her belly, and Silas is trying to calm his son, who is crying for not getting the tablet.
I didn’t even know he had kids.
No one really knows Silas at all, or any of the Knight brothers for that matter.
The youngest, Remy, is some famous bronco rider, and I only know that because my regulars demand we play it on the TV whenever he is riding.
For small-town royalty, they all keep very much to themselves.
I mean, they only came into my bar for the first time the other night.
“Can I help?” I shift awkwardly. My experience with kids is limited, but Ashley’s two don’t seem to hate me, and I see that as a win.
As if only just noticing I’m there, the little girl turns big blue eyes toward me and lets out a dramatic gasp. “A girl!”
“Uh.” Panicked eyes meet Silas’s, who simply puts the bridge of his nose between his fingers while continuing to soothe his son with gentle back pats.
“Rosie,” Roman keeps the girl held back, “This is Niamh, my wife.”
“Neeve,” She over pronounces my name but then her head whips toward her uncle, “Wife!? You got married, Uncle Roman!?”
“Now you’ve done it,” Silas sighs before he turns his attention to me. “They’re not usually this feral, they’ve just come back from a birthday party, and there was no limit on the sugar they were allowed.”
I wince, “It’s okay.”
Rosie escapes Roman’s hold and launches herself at me like some pocket-sized rocket, her tiny hands gripping my wrist. “You’re so pretty! Can you sit next to me!? I never get to sit next to girls. It's always yucky boys.”
I chuckle and let the girl guide me to one of the chairs at the dining table, but Roman gets there before me, pulling out my chair before I can.
“Thanks,” I attempt a smile and lower myself, watching as he does the same for Rosie.
“This one here is Caleb,” Silas tucks his son close, who’s watching me with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
“Hi Caleb,” I give him a small wave, but he tucks his face into his dad’s chest. He looks a lot like both Silas and Roman, with that dark mop of hair and eyes to match his dad’s.
While Silas settles Caleb into the chair beside him, Roman takes the seat beside me and starts lifting the lids off the food waiting in the middle of the table.
“Are you really married to Uncle Rome?” Rosie asks, stealing my attention. She stares right at my face, practically vibrating in her chair.
“I am,” I confirm. “Is that okay?”
“Is it okay!?” She gasps, eyes comically wide. “It’s the bestest! Can you braid hair!?”
“Yes.” I laugh.
“Daddy!” Rosie whips her head to her father. “She can braid hair! She can teach you how to do mine, then Becky won’t make fun of me no more.”
Oh shit. I meet Roman’s eyes over the top of Rosie’s head, but he just shakes his and jerks his chin to the food, silently telling me to eat.
“Come on, Rosie,” Silas urges her, “Let’s get some food, okay?”
“I’ve had food!” She crosses her arms.
“Cake isn’t dinner.”
Once the kids have been served, I place some of the food onto a plate and settle back, watching them all interact.
This isn’t what I had been expecting at all.
This is normal and amusing. Roman attempts to keep Rosie focused on her food, but it really isn’t working when she keeps firing questions at me.
I don’t mind at all, and I answer each one the best I can, looking for permission each time just in case I say something I shouldn’t.
Like I said, I haven’t been around many children and don’t really know what’s okay and what’s not.
“How are you finding the ranch, Miss Calloway?” Silas asks while Rosie is focused on getting some peas onto her fork, the question coming out of him so formal it catches me off guard.
“Mrs.” Roman grunts.
Silas smirks. “Of course. Mrs. Calloway.”
I feel like he did that on purpose, but I don’t comment and answer the best I can, “I haven’t been here long enough yet.”
“She hasn’t left the house,” Roman fills in.
I throw a glare at him. “It’s not even been a day.”
“And he’s not offered a tour?” Silas tuts. “Brother, that’s not like you.”
“I’m sure Niamh can find her own way round,” Roman grinds out. “She has a talent for finding things not meant to be found.”
My lips pop open.
“Oh, that’s right, the falls,” Silas chuckles. “So you really swim out there?”
“You told him?” I gasp at Roman, though I’m not sure why I’m so offended; it’s not like it was our little secret.
“Your secret is safe with me, Niamh,” Silas assures me, but he’s grinning like all of this is amusing to him. “But Roman really should take you on a tour.”
“Wait!” Rosie yells. “You swim out at the falls? Can you take me? Pleassseeeee.”
The smile on Silas’s face drops. “Rosie, you can’t swim.”
“I can too!” She pouts at her dad, “I’m learning!”
“Maybe one day,” I placate her.
“No, right now!”
Beside her, Roman chuckles, “Your daughter wants to swim, brother.”
“If Rosie can go, can I too?” Caleb pipes up. “I can swim, dad. Can I go?”
Silas groans and slumps in his chair, shaking his head in defeat.
I eat the rest of my food quietly, simply observing the Knight family.
Roman barely talks now, but when his niece speaks to him, it’s like he’s a different man entirely.
He’s softer, kinder, and it isn’t hard to see he has a lot of love for his family, which I can respect.
My father was my only family; losing him felt like I lost a part of myself, and even now, I find myself talking to him, knowing I won’t hear his voice but hoping I do.
I kept paying his phone bill for months after he passed, just so I could call it and listen to his voicemail, but after the debts got too much and the repayments were taking every cent I had, I had to stop and cancel the contract.
Grief is a funny thing. Some days it’s easy, but then it creeps up on you, knocks you on your ass and reminds you that the loss has left a fracture inside your soul, one you’re not sure will ever be fixed.
My biggest fear is forgetting what his voice sounds like or how the creases at the edges of his eyes deepened every time he smiled. It’s the little things, the smell of his cologne, the way he rapped his knuckles on the table three times before standing up. What if I forget it all?
Once dinner is finished, I help clean up but then I sneak away when the guys are trying to settle the kids enough for Silas to take them home.
Rosie is still bouncing off the walls, so I know they’re going to be in for a long night.
I can still hear them once I’ve shut myself in my bedroom, heading straight through to the private bathroom where a huge clawfoot tub is waiting.
The room is already stocked with everything I could possibly need, but I’ve added all my favorites anyway, mixing them in with the expensive soaps and bubble baths on the shelves.
I turn on the faucet and leave the bath to run while I pad back to my bag. The moon sits above the mountains, not quite full but close, and the silverly light reflects off the craggy edges. It’s peaceful, quiet, like nothing can touch us here.
Pulling out some flannel pants and a cropped tee, I lay them all on the bed ready for when I get out of the bath.
The prospect of sinking into the tub is enough to have a little burst of excitement bubble up in my stomach.
It’s been years since I’ve been anywhere near a tub.
There was no space back at the studio to have one installed, and I rarely leave town to stay in a hotel or anywhere else for that matter.
Stripping off my clothes, I leave them in a pile on the floor and move toward the steam billowing out of the bathroom door, scented like lavender and honey, and release a breath.
I don’t know how to take tonight, how normal it all was, how easy it was to sit in that room with Roman and his brother.
I didn’t hate it when I thought I would.
I spend so much time alone, even when I’m surrounded by people, and I like that. My own company is all that I have ever needed, but tonight had reminded me just how lonely that life has become.
I can’t get too comfortable with this whole setup, not when it’s temporary, but I can allow myself to enjoy it while it lasts.