21. Chapter 21 - Rosalyn
I’m rinsing the last bowl before I notice him with his head down over his arm on the table.
“Cade?” I have no idea what to do.
Then his shoulders quake.
My chest aches seeing him hurting. I’m torn on how to help him.
Ava used to rub my back when I was in pain, especially after Mom would whip me. Would it be weird if I did that to him?
He told me to take ownership of my own happiness. Can that include him?
I’ve never had anyone tell me they were proud of me before. And his smile is addictive with the crooked tilt because of his scars.
I want to see it again.
Hesitantly, my palm hovers inches above his arm while I take a deep breath. I want to make him feel better.
He promised to keep me safe. The least I can do is offer some small comfort.
When my fingers light on his shirt, he freezes.
Did I fuck up?
But with a harrowing exhale, he reaches around to cover my knuckles with his warm callused hand. “Thank you.” His voice is hoarse, barely a rasp.
I’m not used to anyone touching me, yet it’s…pleasant.
“I never saw the truth, no matter how many times I stared at those pictures.” He’s muffled into his sleeve. Then he raises to look at me with those red-rimmed eyes like caramel. “You did. I think you just saved me, Ros.”
His jaw muscles clench as he turns to stare out the window. “I didn’t do it,” he whispers, another quake running through him.
“Do what?” I glance down to see his other hand splayed over the photo I had pointed to. But it’s the white puckers on his skin that draw my attention.
How much of him is scarred?
“I wasn’t driving, Ros. Ava was.” He sniffles and sits up, but doesn’t let go of my hand pressing his shoulder.
He holds on like it’s a lifeline.
“The only way that indent would have happened is her chest hitting hard enough into the wheel. That damn truck was so old it didn’t have airbags.
” His head drops as he shakes it making his dark hair fall over his eyes.
“It wasn’t my fault. All these years—” He chokes down a sob.
“—I carried the guilt. My brother lost his wife that night.” Cade turns to drop his forehead again, still clinging to my fingers.
“I thought I killed her. He thinks I did.”
My stomach flip flops, almost making the stew sour.
Eli and John blame him too.
So much agony is tied up around it.
“You should tell him.” I rest my other hand on his broad back as if I’m drawn to the heat. “I’m sure he’d understand.”
Cade snorts. “You don’t know Mason.” When he shifts, he pats my knuckles then moves his palm away to rub down his face.
Maybe he doesn’t want me to touch him anymore?
I hate that I feel so awkward. Is this easier for other people?
Probably.
He gives me a weak smile and sighs. “I don’t know how to tell him. It’s pretty set in stone now. And this?” He twirls the picture with his thumb. “Might be proof, but it’s nothing solid enough to change his mind.”
My fingers still tingle from the warmth of our contact, so I tangle them together on my lap when I sit back in the chair.
Cade stands abruptly and starts pacing in the small kitchen.
I tried not to flinch, I really did. I hope he didn’t notice.
“The best thing I can do to get back on his good side is to find some sort of proof against your brothers.” He scratches the whiskers along his jaw, then stops mid stride.
“Eli was furious at you about Val?” His intense gaze makes me shrink in the seat.
As if he sees it, his expression softens. “I’m sorry, Ros.” Moving back to the chair, he falls into it. “I’m not trying to scare you. I just don’t know how to handle this.”
I stare at my thumbs and pick at the skin on the edge. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Everything I’ve been taught was how much of a villain Cade is.
None of it is true.
He’s been a victim of circumstance…like me.
Except now it’ll change. He can go back to his family. They’ll love him again, accept him.
My knees rise to my chest as the reality starts to settle in.
I don’t have anyone. He’s the only person who has ever shown me any kindness.
The rest of the world is scary, not him.
I won’t ever tell him, but my favorite part was the moment when he covered my hand. It felt like he needed me. Almost as if for a brief second he was thankful I was there. I’ve never had that before, maybe won’t again.
He frowns watching me and his fingers twitch. “It’s late. We can figure out more tomorrow.”
Then he gets up more slowly and moves past me to the back room before reappearing a moment later with a folded blanket and pillow.
“The sheets are fresh. I’ll take the couch.” Dropping his bedding on the faded blue cushion, he picks up his beer and finishes the last swallow.
I’m not sure what to do. All I have with me is the clothes on my back. Not even a toothbrush.
After he drops his empty bottle in the garbage, he pauses and tilts his head when he sees me still frozen in a ball on the chair.
“Rosalyn—” His voice drops into a gentle croon. “You’re safe here. I’m locking the door, and there’s another on the inside of the bedroom. No one will hurt you.” As if to reinforce his words, he latches the deadbolt on the entrance and holds up his palms.
The last thing I want to do is ask him for anything.
My chin doesn’t listen and starts to tremble as the sting of tears makes me blink rapidly. “I, um.” Chewing on my lip doesn’t help.
Neither does fidgeting with the seam of my jeans.
His arms lower as he fixates on my mouth. “Tell me. Own what you want.” There’s an undercurrent of command in his tone that urges me to finally blurt out what I haven’t been able to.
“I don’t have anything,” I whimper my admission, avoiding looking at him.
A tiny gap appears between his lips before they clamp shut and thin. “Fuck, I didn’t even think—” Then he strides past me to the back room again.
Is he mad? I’m a burden, just like John said I am.
Burying my face into my knees, I fight the urge to break into full sobs.
Then his hand brushes my shoulder and I startle.
“Sorry.” He frowns, holding out a plastic wrapped toothbrush with a tiny tube of minty paste.
“I ripped you away from your house and then got so distracted I forgot that you don’t already live here.
” His little crooked grin makes a tiny ball of heat grow in my belly.
“I set out a t-shirt and a pair of sweats.”
The smile slips as he glances down my body. “You’re gonna swim in ‘em, but they’re clean and dry.”
“Thank you,” I stammer, taking the toiletries from his hand.
“Tomorrow we’ll go down and pick you up some basics.
” He sits heavily on the couch, his leg sticking out in front of him.
With a sigh, he threads his fingers behind his head and leans back.
“It’ll be fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to buy Christmas presents for.
” His cheek lifts again, making the warmth spread into my chest.
“You don’t have to buy me anything. I have all the stuff at my house. I just need to go back.” I’m a professional at packing. For years I’ve dreamed of escaping from my brothers.
But Cade’s brows furrow. “It ain’t safe now, Ros. They’ll be angry you left.”
What’s worse? Facing my family, or asking Cade for help?
“It’s just a few things. Like my ID.” And my photo album. That’s all I have to remember my sister. “Besides, I don’t think they’ll be there tomorrow since it’s Christmas Eve.”
Pain tightens his features. “Okay. You’re not a prisoner here, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
My lips twist to chew on the inside corner. “I know. That’s why I need to go in alone, just in case.”
He sits up quickly. “Absolutely not.”
This time it’s my turn to scowl. “If they see you, they’ll kill you.” I don’t want him to sacrifice anymore for something he didn’t do.
What happens to me doesn’t matter. I’m nobody.
With a groan he runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “I can get you a new ID. People lose theirs every day. That’s not a hard fix.”
“I won’t take long.” I’m firm on this. “I just have a couple of things that are…important to me. I only have a couple of pictures of Ava, I don’t want to lose them.” I let out a long breath. “Then I’ll go anywhere with you.”
His jaw tics as he nods. “I get it. Just remember you’re important to me. I made you a promise I intend to keep.”
The heat bubble in my torso bursts into a wave of fire boiling through me.
I don’t know what to say.
Unfolding myself from the chair, I clutch the toothbrush like a magical wand that will banish the shadows and give him a small raise of my hand before pivoting on my heel.
Everything is foreign, different from the hotel rooms I’ve slept in for horse events.
It isn’t until I finally slide under the covers and am saturated in his scent that I let out a long breath then relax.
I’m not sure why being surrounded by the smell of him makes me feel more comfortable. Is it because he actually chose to have me here? It’s such a strange feeling.
But for tonight, I’ll enjoy it.
“No!” Cade cries out from the living room.
It makes me sit up straight, my heart pounding in my ears.
Straining to listen, I don’t hear any sounds of footsteps or movement.
Then he lets out another grunt, mumbling something incoherent that’s muffled through the door.
Sliding out from under the thick comforter, I tiptoe across the cold floor and pause.
What if there is someone out there?
Pressing my fingers to the handle I turn it as slowly as possible to sneak a peek into the room.
Cade is spread across the short couch, one socked foot on the rug while the other is dangling over the end, with his arm draping his face.
He lets out a low chuff and his fingers twitch.
Oh shit, he’s talking in his sleep.
I shouldn’t bother him.
Yet I keep getting closer, my bare feet padding silently until I’m standing over him.
Fuck, I hope he doesn’t wake up. He’ll think I’m some sort of freak.
But I can’t stop looking at the white laced scars that work down his throat and rise up his arm. I’ve never seen him so exposed, only with a light tee that’s bunched above his bicep.
How much pain was he in?
Was there anyone to comfort him? At least I had Ava when I got most of mine…
My fingers itch to trace the rough contours, to feel the heat of him wanting my touch.
Am I so desperate for the tiniest sign of acceptance that now I’m lurking over a sleeping man in the middle of the night like some sort of creep?
“Ros…” His voice trails off.
My name? Not Ava’s?
“Please,” he whines, then mumbles something I can’t understand.
What does he want? Why is he dreaming about me?
His rapid panting and whimpers of distress make my brain misfire in an urge to soothe whatever night terror he’s experiencing.
The moment I press my palm to his chest, his wild eyes fly open and he snakes his arm up, tumbling me against him to pin me between his body and the back cushion of the couch.
I’m wedged along his lean torso, trapped by the blaze of him pressing so tightly.
Blinking in the dim light of the microwave numbers, he shakes his head. “Ros?” he rasps. “What are you doing?”Just as quickly, he shifts to lift me up and off him.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “You sounded like you were having a nightmare.”
He falls against his pillow, his hand covering his eyes. “Yea,” he groans. “It’s the same almost every night.”
I’m not sure if I should admit what I heard. “You said my name.”
His elbow lifts to crack a glance at me under his palm. “This time it was you I saw lying in blood. Eli was standing over you with a pistol.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs them slowly then pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Same.” I feel so dumb to have disturbed him.
Except as I walk back to the bed, there’s a change in me I didn’t expect.
He held me and I liked it.