CHAPTER 32
We haven’t said a word to each other since she spoke those words to Chase. I buried him and marked his grave with nine rocks, his lucky number, and then we drove back to the ranch.
I follow behind her as we step through the door, Judge on my heels, and once inside, she heads right for the stairs whereas I go for the whiskey in the office.
Her hand on my wrists stops me.
“We don’t drown the pain,” She whispers, “Not in grief. We feel to respect their lives and what they meant to us, and then we drink.”
I search her face, wondering how true that is for her too. I’ve seen this woman guzzle almost an entire bottle by herself.
But I listen to her, and I let her lead me upstairs and into the bedroom where she takes me into the ensuite and turns the water on in the tub.
“I am sorry,” She says with her back to me. “I know the words don’t do enough, but know I mean them.”
“I know you do.” I look at her reflection in the mirror, noting the way her eyes are downcast, the blood and bruises a mar on her skin. “Come here.”
She doesn’t.
“It wasn’t a request,” I growl at her back.
She shivers and turns but stays in her spot.
I reach for her, dragging her toward the vanity as steam begins to rise from the tub, swirling and blooming into hot clouds that mist over the mirror.
Gently, I lift her until she’s sitting on the vanity and then run the water in the basin.
It sputters out since the bath is filling, but there’s enough pressure for me to clean up her face and hands.
“You don’t have to,” she says, “I can do it.”
“You’re always looking after yourself, aren’t you?” My voice is all gravel. “Self-sufficient, independent. You don’t need anyone.”
Her throat works on a swallow.
“And I see that.” I nod to myself. “I admire it, even if your stubbornness pisses me off. But every once in a while,” I rinse the cloth under the water, “I want to do it. I want to take care of you.”
When her hands are clean, I throw the cloth into the hamper and reach for a fresh one, wetting it before I lift it to her face.
“Will you let me do that?” I ask.
“Yes,” She swallows, “You can do that.”
“Thank you.” My strokes are gentle as I clean up her face, careful over the fresh bruising on her skin as I wipe away the thin trickle of blood from the cut in her forehead. It’s superficial and likely won’t leave a scar, but her neck…
Curling my finger under her chin, I lift her head to allow the light to touch the clear handprint that’s been left on her throat. It’s a deep kind of red, the edges of it turning purple and blue.
“You beat every odd, Hellion,” I praise her.
She leans in close and brushes her lips across mine before she hops down off the vanity and reaches for my shirt. There’s nothing sexual about it, she simply undresses me, and I allow it, and then she guides me into the tub, instructing me to relax, get clean and then come to bed.
I listen to her beyond the door as I do just that, pushing down the grief and the sorrow cutting me up from the inside. I add it to the shit pile, letting it fester and rot.
When I’m clean, the dirt from beneath my nails gone, the dust and smell of earth erased from my hair, I get out and wrap a towel around my hips, heading into the bedroom.
Elena is sitting cross-legged on the floor, Judge’s head in her lap as she strokes between his ears. She’s dressed in one of the ranch’s branded t-shirts, her legs bare, hair pulled over one shoulder.
On the dresser there’s a small pour of whiskey in a glass, two ice cubes melting in the amber liquid.
“Chase refused to move,” She whispers, her fingers running down the length of Judge’s nose. “He wouldn’t fucking move.”
I head to the bed and take a seat, reaching for the whiskey. “What happened?”
So she relays the information, minute by minute.
Chase did what I asked him to do.
When I said it, I thought nothing would happen, and honestly, I’m not sure I’d change it. Even if I never told him to look after her, he would have anyway, because that was the man he was.
But Judge is a surprise.
I’ve always known that the dog was loyal, but he’s never been violent. Never.
But he protected her, just like Chase did.
I make a note to stop at the pet store when I go to town tomorrow to pay my debts and pick him up one of those stag horns he likes to chew on whenever I get the spare cash to treat him to them.
What’s a few dollars when the dog saved the woman who’s creeping into the organ in my chest I believed wasn’t capable of being penetrated?
But at the end of it all, I still lost. And that shit will never be easy.
Throwing back the whiskey, the ice clinks against the glass before I take the towel off and throw it toward the door, climbing beneath the sheets.
Elena remains on the floor for a little longer while I lie with my arms raised, head resting in my hands, eyes on the ceiling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her prepare for bed, brushing her teeth — with my toothbrush even though hers is in the spare bathroom across the hall — and combing through her long, raven hair with her fingers.
She leans closer to the mirror, gingerly touching the fresh, mottled bruising on her throat.
I’ll make him pay for those.
The only marks allowed on her skin are those left behind by me. And they’re not etched in violence.
She switches out the lights as she makes her way to me, a limp in her step I’m not sure will ever go away thanks to the still-healing wound in her thigh. Time will tell.
Elena climbs in beside me, pressing her body up against the side of mine, her hand falling to my chest, above my heart as she rests her head in the soft spot between my neck and my shoulder.
“Kill him.” She says, “You once said you wouldn’t take the revenge from me, but I give it to you. Do whatever you want with him. He’s yours.”
“I plan to, darlin’.”