Chapter 10 #2
I watched their taillights disappear down the drive and then turned and marched into the house. Daisy came downstairs in a long-sleeved, floor-length, zippered robe in a soft blue quilted material. She twisted her hair up in a bun as she passed me and entered the kitchen.
“You don’t need to stay.” She pulled a pot off the floor and stepped around the mess. She washed and dried it well. From the fridge, she pulled out a gallon of milk. She set the pot on the burner, poured milk into it, and then reached up for a mug still on the top shelf.
I leaned against the doorway, watching her work, biding my time until she finally faced me. The look on her face was the same one she used on misbehaving horses. And it probably worked on every man she had ever aimed it at.
I arched a brow and did not budge, as stubborn as she can be.
After a long beat, she sighed and turned back to the stove. “Fine. Stay.” She reached up for a second mug.
I took that as a victory.
I began the work of righting the kitchen. Drawers back into their places. Cabinets closed. I swept the broken ceramic bowl carefully into a bag, leaving the money on the counter. At the entryway, I righted the hat rack and draped the coats back over it.
I turned the lock on the front door, and it stuck. Took more tinkering with it until I could get it to close again.
“Don’t bother with that. The lock hasn’t worked for years,” she called from the kitchen.
“And you wonder why you got robbed?”
“We live in the country. It’s an old house. I doubt we’ve locked that door ever. I can’t even recall when it broke.”
This wouldn’t fucking do. How can I keep her safe when her damn door doesn’t even lock?
Not that it mattered; if someone wanted inside, they’d break the picture window a few feet away.
It’s the security of it that mattered, knowing she could lock her doors at night might make her sleep better. Me, too.
By the time I rigged something with a chair to keep the door closed, she’d set two mugs sat on the dining table. She sank into a seat, both hands wrapped around her mug, and stared off into space.
“They knew I was gone. Like—I’m being watched.” She visibly swallowed hard, her body jolting with a shiver.
That had crossed my mind, but I hadn’t wanted her to freak out about it. She had gotten there herself anyway, which was so like her. Smart. Strong. I knew she’d be okay if we could get past this night.
“Dad wrote everything down. And now it’s gone,” she started, and that launched us into rehashing every detail, hypothesizing, discussing things until the milk was drunk, and we ended up as frustrated as we began.
“We may never see them again. Those journals were more than evidence. They were his. His handwriting. His thoughts, all written with his wry sense of humor, were all about us growing up. I thought we’d have them to cherish forever.
” Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and no amount of blinking could stop them.
“It’s like I have to grieve the loss of my parents all over again. ”
Shit, I felt so bad for her. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. I got out of my seat and went straight to her.
“Come on,” I whispered. She did not argue.
I picked her up bridal-style and carried her upstairs.
By the time we arrived at her bedroom, she’d soaked my shirt.
I had to navigate the obstacle course of her room to set her there by her bed.
Together, we remade it, tucking the sheets and quilt back in place, and found her pillows. Then she climbed in.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked.
“Where are you going?” She sniffled.
“I’ll keep watch in the truck for a while. When I get tired, I’ll move inside to the couch.”
“Oh. The couch. Okay.” She waited until I was almost out the door. “Knox. Thank you.”
“Goodnight, Daisy.” I kept going, headed to my truck before her vulnerable face kept me here.
I stayed watchful like I said I would, stewing over and replaying everything.
Just before sunrise, I sent a text to Ash, updating him.
As an early riser, he responded instantly.
I’d taken the day off, thinking we’d be returning from Billings today.
Worked out that I’d need to be here watching over her instead.
No, she didn’t need me. I chuckled at her comment about having rifles and knowing how to use them. She’d absolutely scare the hell out of anyone who tried to break in again if she were home.
I stayed because I wanted to be the man here for her, no matter what.
Before sunrise, I yawned and dragged my ass inside, hoping to grab a few hours of sleep.
“That you Knox?” She called. Must have been awake, too.
“It’s me.”
“Come here, please.”
Up in her room, she patted the side of the bed next to her.
“You want me to lay down?” I double checked.
“I was just about to get up anyway. The bed is more comfortable than that couch.” She seemed half awake. I was too tired to question it. I tread quietly around the other side of her bed and removed my boots. Still in my jeans and flannel, I carefully lay down on top of the covers.
In the dark, after a moment, she turned toward me. I raised an arm above my head. She settled her cheek against my chest. One of her hands fisted loosely around the front of my shirt. I ignored anything going on South of my belt buckle.
“Worried?” I asked.
“I hate to admit it, but… yeah,” she whispered.
“You don’t always have to be so strong. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Whoever came through that door tonight, would have to get through me first before they got to you.”
She didn’t respond, but her breathing slowed after another minute, and the grip on my shirt loosened.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep now.
Here I was in her bed. We had come a long way to get to this point.
From Billings to the Rimrocks, to her voice on the phone, clipped and careful, calling the night with me fine.
I had held onto that sting the whole drive back, turned it over in my head while she made her calls and the miles flew by, telling myself it was the situation, not a signal.
That she had not meant it the way it landed.
I could see that now, with her trusting me enough to sleep in the circle of my arm.
She had not meant it. Another step forward for us. But there was still a long way to go.
Tonight, she was safe.
That was enough.