32. Lennon
32
LENNON
S o, this was family.
I nestled into Mr. Griffith’s well-loved recliner, cocooned in a stack of pillows and quilts despite the summer heat outside. A hospital tumbler of ice water, a mug of coffee, and a glass of sweet tea were perched on the side table, so I didn’t have to get up if I wanted something different.
My phone buzzed in my lap. CJ had found a twenty-foot extension cord somewhere on the ranch so I could keep it plugged in beside me. I glanced down at the screen and smirked.
Ray had made a mistake. A big one.
I swiped across my phone and made my play, then turned it over on my lap and closed my eyes.
The front door opened and closed. I waited to hear the footsteps before I opened my eyes.
If it was CJ, it would be steady, purposeful strides in cowboy boots.
Mrs. Griffith usually wore sneakers, so her steps were softer.
Mr. Griffith had an offbeat pattern of walking with his walking stick.
If it was Ray, I’d hear the slide of his wheelchair against the tile and hardwood.
Cassandra’s high heels had a distinct click.
Nate’s gait was almost completely silent, whereas Becks stomped in like an elephant.
Christian’s footfalls were heavy, but he slid his heels a little, giving his boots a distinct hiss.
But I didn’t hear them. I peeled an eye open at the slide of bedroom slippers. Brooke appeared, still in her pajamas. “Hey,” she said as she waddled in and slowly lowered herself onto the couch. “You up for some company?”
I checked the crossword game on my phone. Ray hadn’t made a move yet. “Is your husband right behind you?”
Brooke snickered. “Yeah. He’s fuming outside.”
I closed my eyes again. “Where’s your baby?”
“CJ’s got her,” Brooke said as she grabbed one of Claire’s magazines and started thumbing through it. “That’s the beauty of the uncles. There’s always a set of hands who want to hold a cute baby.”
The door opened and slammed shut, followed by the slide of Ray’s wheelchair, accented by two sets of shoes: steady boots and high heels.
CJ and Cassandra, if I had to guess.
I was correct.
Cassandra strolled in looking regal and terrifying as always. CJ followed behind her with baby Olivia cradled to his chest. Ray pulled up the rear looking rather pissed.
I smirked.
“Wipe that fucking look off your face, Maddox,” Ray snapped.
Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at CJ. “You’re not going to yell at your brother for speaking to Lennon like that?”
CJ couldn’t take his eyes off the baby in his arms. “And get bitched out by my girl? Absolutely not. Do you let Christian fight your battles?”
Cassandra inspected her nails. “Fine. You have a point.”
Ray pointed a finger at me. “You’re out of the game.”
“And you’re just jealous.”
“You cheated!” he countered. “There’s no way you pulled four triple word scores out of your ass without help. You can’t Google words! That’s the rule,” Ray shouted.
“You’re the one who invited me to play,” I teased, pulling the game up on my phone. I dragged J, U, X, S, T, A from my row of letters and added them to the board where I’d put the word “position” on a triple word score space during my previous turn.
Cassandra and Ray’s phones dinged as I racked up eighty-seven points in a single turn.
Ray let out a low growl and pitched his phone into an empty armchair. “Fuck you and your stupid vocabulary.”
“Have you always been a sore loser, or is this a new trait for you?” I asked as I closed my eyes.
“He’s always been that way,” CJ said as he held the baby with one arm and picked up Ray’s phone with the other. He pointed it at Ray. “But let’s make one thing clear. If you ever speak to my woman that way again, I will dig your grave while she slices you to ribbons with a kitchen knife.”
“Looks like it’s back to just me and Cass playing,” Ray grumbled.
Brooke laughed under her breath.
“Bummer,” I said as I picked up my phone and played around with my available letter tiles. “I was about to turn your double word score ‘cap’ into ‘capricious.’”
Ray huffed. “What the hell, Maddox? Did you play Scrabble professionally or something?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “I was in prison for a long time. I played a lot of Scrabble.”
“Better watch your mouth,” Cassandra said. “She might strangle you with her chest tube.”
“If I weren’t getting it out tomorrow, I would,” I muttered.
Ray held his hands up in surrender.
CJ settled in a chair he’d pulled next to his dad’s recliner. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I said as I tilted my head to look at him. “I really have to pee, but I don’t want to get up.”
I turned my gaze away so I wouldn’t have to see him watching the labored rise and fall of my chest.
CJ had barely left my side since I was discharged from the hospital. Everyone had scrambled to cover for us both but, at some point, life had to go back to normal.
Whatever that meant.
My brother had been murdered. I had been stabbed in the chest by one of my cooks. My boyfriend had killed him.
And we were supposed to move on like nothing ever happened?
The FBI had searched Julian’s apartment and found the money. Most of it, at least. He had spent bits and pieces of it over the years, but had been waiting to get my brother and me out of the picture before he disappeared for good.
There was damning proof that would have exonerated me a decade ago, but it didn’t matter now. I couldn’t get that time back. I couldn’t turn the clock back and skip being attacked when I entered the prison system. I couldn’t return the years I’d spent there. I couldn’t avoid the struggle of reintegrating into society as a woman with a criminal record.
I couldn’t undo the knife sliding between my ribs and puncturing my lung. I couldn’t undo the weird looks I got in the hospital, the suspicious treatment from the doctors and nurses whenever I needed more pain meds, and the excruciating recovery.
I wouldn’t be able to change the fact that I’d never walk into the storeroom of the restaurant without reliving it over and over again. My staff would never look at me the same nor give me the respect that I had earned.
CJ leaned over and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Want me to kick everyone out so you can rest?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been resting for a week.”
“Do you want to go sit on the porch?” CJ asked.
“Quit hovering. She’ll let you know if she wants something,” Ray called from the kitchen where he was pawing through the fridge.
A tight smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I squeezed CJ’s hand. “I’m fine. Promise.”
I finally relaxed when someone turned on the TV. The background noise was a reprieve from everyone staring.
CJ had passed Olivia off to Cassandra, who reacted to holding the baby the way bomb technicians handled live explosives.
“What do you need?” CJ asked softly.
I sighed. “To be able to sleep flat in a bed and not upright like a vampire.”
CJ chuckled. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Go sleep in the bunkhouse tonight. I know you’re exhausted.”
He shook his head.
CJ had taken up residence on his parents’ couch ever since I came home from the hospital, just in case I needed anything. Every morning his neck and back were more jacked up than the previous day, but he never complained. Not once.
“I’m sorry about all this,” I said as I stared aimlessly at the wall.
“Stop apologizing.” He laced our fingers together. “It’s not your fault.”
“It kind of is . . .”
“Stop arguing with me, slugger.” He pecked my forehead. “We’re just getting a head start on the ‘for better or worse’ part of things.”
People filtered in and out all afternoon. Brooke and Ray went back to their house when Olivia started getting fussy. Christian stopped by to talk for a few minutes before taking Cassandra home with him. Becks and Nate stopped by and hung out through dinner, then went home.
I was thankful when the cacophony of opening doors and cowboy boots grew quiet.
I took advantage of the silence while CJ slipped out to check in at the bunkhouse and make sure everything had been taken care of. I had just drifted off to sleep when something shifted the blankets. Or rather, someone.
I rubbed my eyes and found CJ’s mom at the end of the recliner’s footrest.
“Don’t mind me, sweetheart,” she said quietly as she picked up a blanket that had slid halfway off my legs and laid it neatly over my lap. “Just don’t want you getting cold or having to get up.”
“Thanks, Mrs. G.”
She chuckled. “You make me sound cool. Need anything before I turn in for the night? I’m an early-to-bed kind of gal.”
“I’m all right,” I said as I traced one of the seams of the quilt pattern. “Thanks though.”
Claire gave me a curious look. “You sure? I’m always here to talk if you need it.”
I mulled over the thoughts that had been swimming around in my mind for the better part of the day, then decided against it. “I’m fine. Sorry I crashed your living room.”
Claire took that as an invitation to sit beside me. “There’s something you should know.” She rested her elbow on the armrest. “CJ didn’t ask if you could stay here when you got discharged. He didn’t even get a chance to bring it up. I offered.”
My brows furrowed.
“No one should have to go through what you did. And you certainly shouldn’t have to recover without people around to help you.” She patted my hand. “You know, I started getting sad when my boys grew up. The house got more and more quiet. They moved out, made their way in the world, and built their own lives. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” She smiled. “But then they started bringing me daughters. Years ago, it was Gretchen and Vanessa. Gretchen passed away, bless her, and Nate and Vanessa divorced. Things got quiet again. Ray was off riding bulls, and Nathan was in the military. Nate came back from deployment all torn up over this woman he had met over there. It didn’t take long for Becks to show up after Nate came home. And then Becks brought Cassandra out here, and she fell in love with Christian. Brooke stumbled onto the ranch.” She chuckled. “We’ve just been waiting for you, dear.”
“I like your family,” I hedged.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she said. “I like having a full house. I like getting to know the women my boys have fallen in love with.”
Something warm blossomed between us.
I looked down at the quilt because eye contact was a little disconcerting. “You raised good men.”
One of which I didn’t deserve.
She smiled. “Then I’ll save the stories of the four of them being complete hellions for another day. Let’s just say Brooke and Ray are going to have their hands full with Seth if he’s anything like his daddy.”
I laughed.
“Years ago, I was having a similar chat with Cassandra. I told her that it takes a strong woman to put up with a cowboy, and I stand by that.” She squeezed my arm. “I can’t imagine anyone better for Carson.”
Footsteps echoed through the house as CJ came in from the bunkhouse. “Hey, Momma,” he said as he strolled in with his arms full. “What are you still doing up?”
“You know me,” Claire said as she eased out of the chair. “I’ll never pass up a chance to spend time with my girls.” She patted my knee. “Hope you get some sleep, honey.”
“Thanks, Mrs. G.”
CJ kissed his mom on the cheek as they passed and said their goodnights.
“You ready for bed?” he asked as he dropped his haul on the couch and placed a vase of fresh-picked wildflowers on the table beside the recliner.
“I guess.”
I hated the night routine of getting in and out of the recliner. I hated that I still needed CJ’s help to do basic things, but he never acted inconvenienced.
He helped me up from the recliner and carried the drainage container that connected to my chest tube as we made our way to the bathroom. His eyes never left mine as he helped me onto the toilet, then waited outside until I needed help getting back up.
It was an exercise in humility for both of us.
The pride we had forged our identities in was nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes.
I brushed my teeth with my good arm, then leaned against the edge of the sink as CJ gently changed my wound dressings. The one on my side wasn’t too bad. That incision had been intentional, thanks to the surgical team who repaired my lung and saved my life. The one on my chest was much more gruesome.
When I was a rookie in the kitchen, everyone always regurgitated the mantra that a sharp knife was a safe knife.
But no knife was safe when it was going into your chest.
I grimaced as CJ threaded my right arm into the sleeve of an oversized shirt. Pain, hot and incessant, lanced through my body every time I had to move it up and down.
I could kick off a pair of sweatpants, but getting them back on was twice as hard. So, I had to settle for him pulling them up my hips.
“I hope you know how much restraint I’m showing right now,” he said with a devilish smirk. He knelt before me and slipped his hands up my sweatshirt, grazing my nipple piercing with the back of his knuckles.
“Sorry,” I said as I looked at my week-old braid in the mirror and decided another day without taking it down wasn’t unreasonable. “I’m a little out of commission at the moment.”
His gold and green eyes met mine with tenderness. “Don’t be sorry. But mark my words, trouble. As soon as you’re back on your feet, I’m going to make you feel so damn good.”
The faint memory of that night at the bar floated back through my mind. I cupped his cheek while he was still on his knees and looked him dead in those hypnotic eyes. “Counting on it, pretty boy.”