17. Chapter 17 - Rosalyn
There’s something intimate about having my feet under his shirt and the way his elbow rests on my leg.
I shouldn’t feel comfortable with this man who’s been sneaking around in the woods.
Maybe it’s just because on a most basic level I can understand he’s safer than Eli. He’s already saved me twice.
Eli would never consider it. Hell, I doubt John would either.
My brothers would both rather watch me fail than to lift a finger to help me.
“Where are we going?” I finally whisper after almost an hour of driving.
“My place,” Cade grunts. “We can put up the horses and make a plan.”
Twisting the ruby ring on my finger, I wish my sister was here. I’d ask her if I can really trust Cade.
She did. Look where that got her.
Except I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she told me how much she loved him. How romantic he was when he proposed on the shore of a lake at sunset.
She made the mistake of telling Eli.
He was so angry, he swore he’d kill Cade before letting her leave.
“Did you know Eli wanted to stop you and Ava from getting married?” I watch Cade’s features darken.
The steering wheel squeaks when his grip tightens.
“Doesn’t surprise me.” His jaw clenches, sending a starburst up to his temple. “Think he woulda been able?”
When I was younger, I thought the world of my brothers. They were loud, brash, and seemed tough enough to win any fight.
Then I got old enough to realize just how toxic their behavior really is.
“Yes,” I hiss, burying my nose between my knees. “I don’t think he’d hesitate if he had the opportunity. That’s why he’s so fucking scary.”
A light goes out of Eli’s eyes when he goes into a rage.
Cade’s thumb moves in a small circle in the hollow of my ankle, opposite of his nostrils flaring as he glares at the road ahead of us.
It’s so foreign having anyone touch me, I have a hard time not focusing on the tiny movement.
“He wanted to know where we’d be.” His voice may be low, but it drips with venom.
My hand shakes as my fingers dig under my hat to tug at my hair.
No. No. No. Eli couldn’t have had anything to do with Ava.
Sour bile rises into the back of my throat.
Cade slows the truck, then throws it into park. He doesn’t say a word before he slips away from me in a gust of freezing wind to disappear outside.
Blinking through the tears, I look around to see we’re in front of a big iron colored barn that’s nearly obscured with heavy snowfall.
When did that start?
The vehicle rocks, then Cade leads his horse past my window towards the shelter.
I guess we’re here?
My toes ache when I stuff my feet back into my boots. They’re cold and damp, but all I have.
What kind of idiot am I to leave the house in the middle of winter without the right gear? I must really have a death wish.
Or is it that small sliver of my will to survive that had me rushing out of the house and away from my family?
Why not just give up?
My door gets pulled open and I almost tumble out.
“Gonna sleep in the truck?” Cade’s dark eyes narrow, yet he holds out his hand for me.
He’s so confusing.
With his help, I hop down onto the running boards then into the deepening snow. “I didn’t know there was going to be a storm.”
“Nah.” He lets go to lead me towards a steep set of stairs. “Only supposed to get a couple of inches.”
He pauses at the top to turn and stare out over the prairie. “Might be a good thing. It’ll hide your tracks from when you left.” Then he pushes open the door.
“Ain’t much, but Pete’s been nice enough to let me stay here while I’m working this case.” He tosses his keys on the small shelf and stomps off his boots.
“It’s cozy,” I say, looking at the tiny kitchen and couch. I’m still reeling over the fact that I might have escaped? The idea makes my limbs feel lighter.
“You don’t live here all the time?” My coat slips off my arms, but then I freeze when I notice he’s still wearing his.
“No. I got a place in Texas. Go on.” He waves his fingers at the hook. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna go talk to Pete.”
There’s a dark tinge to his words and a heaviness to his movements as if he’s carrying a burden I can’t see.
He stands at the door, his fingers poised on the knob. “There’s food and beer in the fridge. Help yourself Ros, you’re safe here.”
With a rush of icy wind, he’s gone.
I’ve never had anyone call me that nickname before. It’s always been ‘Lyn’ for short. But I kind of like how it sounds when he says it, like I’m tougher with the hard ‘Z’.
Maybe I can be that person?
What do I have to do to change?