Chapter 29
Ouch.
There’s a dull throb pounding against my temples, and my entire body feels like it’s been thrown down a damn mountain. And what the hell is that noise!?
Prying my eyes open, I glance around the room, finding sterile white walls and a window that looks out onto a city skyline, tall buildings reaching toward a cloudless blue sky while the mountains look tiny on the horizon. A machine is beeping to the right of me, wires connecting it to my body.
Why the hell am I in a hospital!?
“Mrs. Calloway?” A woman in a nurse’s uniform comes toward the bed. “You’re awake.”
“Why am I here?” I croak, voice feeling a little raw and scratchy.
“You were in an accident, sweetie,” She says softly. “You don’t remember?”
I remember leaving the ranch this morning to head to the bar, pulling out onto the road, but then there was a cat or something… I swerved to miss it and slammed on the brakes, but the car wouldn’t stop.
Shit. I crashed Roman’s truck.
“Is the car okay?” I frantically ask.
The nurse frowns. “Ma’am, you understand there was an accident?”
“Yes,” I try to sit up, but my head swims, and I flop back down onto the pillows.
“Alright, you rest. I’ll go get your husband, okay?”
I wet my lips and nod, the beep of my heart faster now in my panic. Shit. I can’t believe I crashed his truck, but I didn’t want to hit that cat. I just don’t understand why it wouldn’t stop!
The door opens again, and Roman storms in. There’s no pause or hesitation. He’s by my bedside in a blink, his hands cupping my face while he looks me over intensely and then his lips are on mine.
It’s both soft and desperate at the same time. I can feel him holding back, and yet he isn’t letting go. He finally breaks away and rests his brow against mine, his breathing coming out in heavy, rough pants.
“You’re okay,” He finally speaks, voice full of gravel, the words more to convince himself.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
He snaps back, “What!?”
“I crashed your truck.” I try to sit again, but the dizziness returns, forcing me to stay down. “There was a cat, and I swerved, but I just didn’t stop. It didn’t stop. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay whatever damage there is.”
“I don’t care about the truck,” He grinds out. “Fuck the truck.”
His hands smooth back my hair, eyes on the spot that hurts the most on my head. “That scared the shit out of me.” He admits.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, “A little sore and somewhat dizzy, but I think I hit my head pretty hard.”
“It’s my fault.” He releases me and steps back, walls coming down around him. I see his eyes close off, his body grow taut with every step he takes away from me. A mix of panic and dread blooms in my chest, and I swallow hard, trying to keep calm. “The truck — it was my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t told you everything Niamh,” He sighs as he turns to the window, looking down at the city.
We’re so far away from the Ranch here, it’s like an entirely different world.
There’s a haze in the air that makes the mountains appear fuzzy, like they’re sitting behind a foggy screen.
You can just make out the shape, but you can’t see the steep inclines or where the edges turn sharp.
It’s all shades of gray, and I have to wonder how anyone could enjoy the view when it looks so simple.
From here you can’t see the blotches of green where trees climb the mountainside or the snow on the peaks.
“Roman?” I don’t try to sit, not when my head is this fuzzy, but I never take my eyes off him, willing him to come back to me.
“My mother didn’t just die; she was murdered.” With every word that comes from him, his shoulders grow tighter, his body becoming like armor. “We never proved it, but it was him. I heard him admit it.”
“Who?” I swallow.
“My father.” He rolls his neck from side to side, keeping his back to me.
Why won’t he face me? “He wanted the ranch and had convinced my mother to leave it to him in her will, should anything happen to her, so she lied and told him that’s what she did.
A couple of years passed, long enough for people not to suspect anything, and then she died. ”
“How?”
“The reports said she hit ice, lost control of her car and went off the side of the mountain, and we believed it. It didn’t quite add up, not when she was so used to driving those roads, but it made sense. Those roads are dangerous in the winter, we all know it, so hitting ice isn’t impossible.”
I pick at a bit of rough skin at the edge of my nail, my throat growing tight as I listen.
“After her will was read and my father realized she hadn’t left him anything, not a single piece of land, he lost his mind.
Admitted it to my grandfather and threatened to do the same to him should he not hand it over.
After I got involved, he left, but he promised to be back.
A few things over the years have reminded us he’s still there, waiting for the right moment, but we’ve never given him it. Until you.”
My stomach twists with dread, fear close behind.
“Why does he want the ranch so much?”
Roman’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “Money. Power. He was the one who came at me the day I fell off Pippin.”
“Roman! You have to report him.”
He chuckles, but the sound is void of amusement, it’s more defeated than anything else, and I hate it. Hate the sound of it, the icy chill of it.
“We have but he never leaves enough evidence to prove it was him. He has always been a smart man. If I can give him anything, it would be that. He manipulates to get his way. He married the widow at the ranch opposite us, got her on side, and now he owns that land.
“We believe he destroyed your truck, Niamh. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He finally turns to me, meeting my eyes. The color of his eyes swirl, a molten gold that is riddled with guilt and grief. This isn’t on him; this is not his burden to bear.
“Come here,” I demand.
“I got a package today.” He ignores me, and I watch as his face crumbles even more.
“A get well soon card with a message inside from him, a threat in not so many words, but I know that man. There was a box with brake lines inside. I knew they were for the truck; he came after you to get to me, Niamh.”
“Roman,” I hold his stare, “Come here.”
His chin shakes in a barely there refusal.
“If I get out of this bed, I’m going to get dizzy and then I’ll fall over and then you’ll really have something to feel guilty for.”
“I am guilty,” He grinds out.
“Fine,” I snap back and throw the sheets off my legs, curling my lip a little at the white and blue hospital gown, and start to move.
“What the fuck are you doing!?” He darts forward, lunging for me.
I grin at him, knowing I just got what I wanted since he’s by my side and pulling the sheets back over me. I grab his wrist before he can pull away.
“Do not.” I warn him.
“Don’t what?”
“Pull away from me,” I hold his eyes, “Not when I just ignored everything in my head telling me to keep you away. Not because I think you’re dangerous, or guilty, or bad, but because you make it too easy to forget.
You make me fucking feel again, and that scared me.
And if you pull away from me now, all those thoughts would have been right. ”
“How can you bear to be near me? To even look at me?” He sighs.
“Did you do it?” I ask.
“Fuck no,” He snaps.
“Then why would I blame you?”
“Because I knew this might happen.”
“I don’t blame you Roman, I am pissed for you. But I don’t blame you. I am sad for you, angry and disgusted for you.”
“It will keep happening until he wins.”
“He won’t win.” I declare.
His eyes shutter. “Niamh.”
“Kiss me again.” I order. “Kiss me again, and if you still want to do whatever it is you’re going to do, then fine, I won’t fight you.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“And that’s why I won’t,” I whisper. “I need you, Roman.”
Amber eyes bounce between mine before he leans down and kisses me again, his tongue stroking gently against my lips until I open and let him in.
“When do we stop fighting?” I ask when he finally breaks away.
“Fighting what?”
“Ourselves.” I sigh.
He softens. “I’m not sure we ever do.”
“I don’t blame you, Roman. Am I scared? Yes. Any sane person would be, but we take things as we get them and try to figure out a way to stop him.”
“If it were that easy —”
“I never said it was easy,” I interrupt him.
He sighs heavily. “If he hurts you, Niamh…”
“He won’t.”
“He already has.”
“He won’t.”
Pumpkin purrs like a mini engine on my lap as I stroke her fur, her paws making biscuits on the blanket Roman insists I keep on my legs, just in case I get a chill.
What I haven’t told him is that I am a hundred fucking degrees and sweating my tits off.
I’m about to risk a scolding for moving just to crack a window and get some air in here.
The doctors released me after twenty-four hours with instructions to rest and pills for any pain I may have, and I am now the proud owner of eight stitches for a gash in my hairline from the crash.
The truck is a write off but Roman has it being inspected and hasn’t stopped trying to pin down his father for this.
I believe him, but the way the officers are treating this has my skin crawling. With anger. With frustration.
They don’t seem to be taking it seriously.
Maybe I can speak with Oscar; he’s part of the department. Maybe he can help from the inside, put a little pressure on to take this seriously.
As far as I can tell, Jenson Knight is an upstanding citizen in this town, helpful, charming but from all the stories Roman has told me since we left the hospital, it’s a carefully constructed mask he wears to hide who he truly is.
That makes me sad for Roman and his brothers, to not know what a true father should be, but I suppose their grandfather filled in that gap for them.
Pumpkin startles on my lap as Remy comes bursting into the room, four large pizza boxes balancing on one hand while he stuffs a pizza slice into his mouth with the other.
“Hungry?” He grins.
I chuckle. “Starved.”
“I’m going to make a guess. Chicken supreme?”
“Pepperoni.” I correct.
“What?” He stares at me. “I never guess a pizza favorite wrong.”
I shrug, “Guess you’re losing your touch.” I take the box from him when he hands it over and open it to find an untouched pepperoni inside, still steaming as I pull a slice away, the cheese pulling with it.
Roman and Silas come through with Rosie and Caleb, who immediately go for the pizza on the table while Roman settles next to me and hands me the bottle of pain pills.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, tucking the bottle between my thigh and the arm of the couch.
“You haven’t had any for a while,” He says. “You’re not hurting?”
The way Roman cares shows in every move he makes, every word he speaks.
He cares hard, pours all of himself into it and since the accident, that attention has been on me.
He doesn’t let me out of his sight for more than a few minutes, has held me tight as if he’s afraid to let me go, that I may slip through his fingers if he does.
I see the tension in the creases at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders have barely loosened since the hospital room.
This whole thing with his dad has him on edge, and it certainly doesn’t help that the cops aren’t doing anything about it.
I can’t imagine the memories this is dragging up, the demons right along with them.
“Not right now,” I bite into my pizza and settle back, watching Silas try to wrangle his kids to sit and eat instead of the dancing they’re attempting to do.
Eventually he gives up, steals a slice of pizza for himself and collapses onto the chair beside the large fireplace, dark circles under his eyes.
He looks stressed and tired, heavy, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I’m not sure it’s my place.
Roman presses a kiss to my temple before he grabs a slice for himself.
“None of that!” Remy tuts in mock offence. “There are children present.”
A pizza crust hits him square in the middle of the forehead, and all eyes snap to Silas as silence settles. Even the kids have stopped moving.
“Did you just throw fucking pizza at me?” Remy hisses. “Why is everyone always throwing food at me!?”
“Because you never keep your big mouth shut,” Silas shrugs, reaching for another slice.
“Daddy, he said a bad word,” Rosie frowns.
“He did, didn’t he?” Silas agrees with her. “Ten in the swear jar.”
“Swear jar?” Roman asks. “Since when?”
“Since I started this job with that ranch and I’m finding myself slipping a lot. I’m going to have to spend a couple of weeks down there. Just gotta wait for the nanny to get a week free so I can go.”
“That bad?” Roman asks.
“I’m not talking about it,” Silas grunts. “Pay up, Remy.”
Rosie darts off to her rucksack and comes back with an already quarter-full glass jar. “You carry that around everywhere?” I ask her.
“Mmhmm.” She opens the lid and holds it up to Remy. “Daddy is saying a lot of bad words, and as he always tells me, consequences have actions.”
“Actions have consequences,” Silas corrects her gently, “But you’re right, bug, they do.”
Remy grumbles as he slides a ten into the jar, Rosie almost catching the tips of his fingers with the lid as she snaps it closed behind him.
Roman’s arm tightens, and though he joins in the conversation with his brothers, he never truly relaxes, not when every bump and knock from outside has him ready to spring into action.
After everyone leaves, and the house turns so quiet you can hear the old walls creak, I watch him as he checks every lock and window before he grabs a shotgun from inside the closet.
“Roman.” I stop him. “What are we doing?”
He looks at the gun and then back at me.
“You’re letting him control you,” I tell him gently. “He’s not here, and yet you’re doing exactly what he wants you to do. Stop giving him the reaction he wants.”
His shoulders sag in defeat.
“Take me to bed, cowboy,” I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist where I then tip my head up to keep my eyes on his.
“Say you need me,” He whispers the same four words he’s said several times before. It’s not hard to realize he needs to hear them, to keep him grounded and here.
“I need you.” I answer without hesitation.