43. Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Laiken
I press a kiss to Trace’s head.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s find some cookies.” Ivy takes him by the hand, leading him into the kitchen.
I keep glancing out the window, waiting for Parker to come inside.
He’s still on the porch with my brother, Cooper, and Ryder.
A part of me is a little nervous about what they’re talking about.
The other part almost hopes they deliver the punishment Rhodes deserves.
Maybe he’ll actually get it tonight. Maybe this time he’ll stay behind bars.
I close my eyes, dropping my face into my hands. I replay the entire interaction. Wondering if I was wrong to even open the door. Wondering if I should have ignored him. I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my mess.
Sitting here in the quiet, his confession slams into me. He admitted to drugging me. Admitted he knew exactly what he was doing. That nausea is back again. The sickness that comes with knowing danger that close and personal. I roll his words around for the hundredth time.
Take a good look at him next time he’s on top of you. Remind you of anyone?
The door closes, and I lift my head to see Parker slip inside, heading straight for the bathroom. He’s got a clean T-shirt in his hand. I push to my feet, following him down the hall. He steps inside, but I catch the door before he can close it.
“Hey.”
He stiffens, turning his back to me. “I don’t want you to see me like this, Laik.”
I ignore him, wedging my way inside before closing it behind me. “Look at me.”
He hesitates before finally turning to face me. Bloody shirt and all.
“Let me.” I open the cabinet and grab a washcloth. “Sit.” I motion to the toilet seat.
He does as I say, silence blooming between us.
Running the cloth under some warm water, I watch him through the mirror. His head is hung low. Shame on his face.
I wring out the cloth. “Give me your hands.”
I crouch down, taking his battered hands in mine.
Gently, I clean the dried blood.
“I’m sorry you and Trace saw that,” he whispers.
I pause, then turn my gaze to his. “What I saw was a man protecting the people he loves.”
He shakes his head. “I—”
“No.” I stop him. “If you hadn’t shown up…”
“Trace called me.”
I freeze. “What?”
“It was luck I was already on the way.” He blinks, pushing away the moisture in his eyes. “He called me because he knew Rhodes was bad.”
My heart breaks for my boy. For him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Firefly.”
“And it’s not yours either.”
I know that. He knows that. But it’s apparent guilt has us both in a fierce chokehold.
“Will you do something for me?” Parker reaches for my hand. “Will you and Trace come to the ranch with me? Where it’s safe?”
I squeeze his hand. There’s nowhere I’d rather be. “Absolutely.”
“Mama. Can I sleep with you?” Trace asks as I slide on his pajama pants.
“Of course.”
Once he’s dressed, we exit the tiny bathroom of the loft.
Parker has showered and is wearing a pair of navy sweats and a white T-shirt. He looks relaxed. Hot.
When he sees us, his lips twitch.
“Ready for bed?”
Trace climbs onto the king-sized bed, crawling to the middle. “Mama said I can sleep with her tonight.”
“No problem, buddy.” Parker grabs an extra blanket. “You two take the bed. I’ll be right here on the couch.”
“Parker?” Trace fidgets with his hands, looking slightly embarrassed. “Can you sleep with us too? You make me feel safe.”
I swallow down an unexpected sob at his words. It shatters my heart that someone has made him feel scared in the places he should feel the most at ease.
“I’d love to.” Parker meets my gaze before he grabs the remote. “Should we watch a movie?”
Trace’s eyes light up. “Yes!” He wiggles beneath the cover as I climb in next to him. “Do you know Rooster Cogburn?”
Parker scoffs. “What kind of question is that? True Grit is a classic.”
Trace cackles. “Can we watch it?”
“Say no more.” Parker flips on the classic western, then settles on the opposite side of Trace.
The music plays, and I prop up on my side, resting my head on my palm. A little hand clasps onto mine, and I glance down to see Trace sneak his other hand into Parker’s large one.
My heart could burst.
I watch the flashing television, tears pricking my eyes when I feel fingertips caress the back of my head. Parker’s fingers glide through my hair with tenderness. I peer over Trace’s curls to find his adoring stare.
“I love you,” Parker mouths.
Yep. I’m about to burst.
“I love you too,” I mouth back.
Then I close my eyes. Tomorrow we can deal with the trauma. Tonight, I want to be curled up with my boys.