Chapter 8
Steve
I’d just finished cleaning the kitchen from the dinner I’d made for the four of us when Aya’s phone rang.
I had settled all the pots into the deep, large farmhouse sink, trying to ignore how my shoulders ached from the tension that had settled over me once Aya told Nash that Jasmine had a fourth date with some asshat, Frank.
I’d picked at my food, scowling into my plate as Aya explained that Frank was in the music industry—on the periphery and not someone Nash had ever worked with before. Cam hadn’t either, which made me nervous.
How good could this guy be if he hadn’t worked with two of the biggest names in music? Rye, Kate’s husband, wasn’t too keen on the guy, but he’d taken to Jasmine when he’d come out to the ranch with another producer whom Cam worked with often.
Didn’t matter if Frank was Nash’s biggest cheerleader; I detested the guy. Good thing I’d already decided not to attend more joint family dinners because there was no way I’d ever sit through Jasmine and this Frank asshole making lovey-dovey faces at each other.
I glanced up from the sudsy water in time to see Aya’s face turn white as a feminine voice spoke rapid-fire through the speaker. I couldn’t hear the words, but I was on high alert when she swayed. Nash rose, his chair scraping hard against the tiles as he clasped Aya to him.
“Is she okay?” Aya asked, her voice rising. She gasped again. “Holy…I’ll tell them. But she’s okay?”
I set down the scrubbing pad and pan and waited, not liking the worry in Aya’s voice. She listened again before she set down her drink glass. It wobbled on the counter…and Aya swayed. Nash was there, steadying her, before sorting the glass just before it tipped over.
Aya buried her nose into his chest as she clutched at her phone. Levi picked up on the tension and began to fuss. Nash looked torn between gathering his son in his arms and soothing his wife, so I dried my hands, then walked over and collected Levi.
Aya listened intently for another long moment before offering her help. “Okay, well, keep me posted.” She pulled back so that she met Nash’s eyes, his concern melting a little at whatever he saw in her gaze.
“Oh, yes, we’ll be there. Absolutely!” Aya hung up the phone and steeled herself with a long inhalation.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Nash asked, urgency clipping his words.
“Mama Grace…” Aya shared a look with Nash. He expression crumpled and she bit her trembling lower lip.
I stiffened but kept my hold on Levi easy as I bounced him up and down. His lower lip stuck out as he decided whether to cry or laugh.
I met Aya’s gaze over Levi’s little head. “She had a date tonight, you said.”
Aya’s eyes were dilated, her breath harsh. “She did.”
“What happened, Aya?” I asked, worry pulsing through me. “Is she okay? Were they in a crash?”
I had to work to keep my clasp on Levi gentle and soothing. My head pounded as images bombarded me. I’d seen death, seen suffering. I couldn’t imagine Jasmine in those scenarios. Didn’t want to.
“N-no. She never left the house. He…he assaulted her.”
No. Not Jasmine. My throat closed and my ears rang. I knew Frank was an asshole. He’d proven just how much of one. He’d put his hands on Jasmine. He’d hurt her.
I began to shake. What if…what if he forced her…
My stomach heaved and I swallowed thickly.
“Jenna said she’s okay,” Aya said from closer to me, her voice softer.
I sank into the wooden chair, still clutching Levi, who’d quit fussing and instead started smacking his tiny hands against my cheeks.
“But he hurt her arm,” Aya continued. “Kate and Jenna are with her, on the way to get an X-ray. Cam’s dealing with Frank.”
“Just her arm?” Nash asked. I needed to know that, too. My rage might remain contained if he’d just…what? Broken her arm? That was still wrong on so many levels, and it didn’t make sense. If he hurt her arm, wouldn’t he have…did he…was she…
No, Jasmine was resourceful, strong. If Jenna said it was just her arm, then I’d believe that.
Still, I couldn’t abide by that logic. No one got to hurt Jasmine. I inhaled slowly, struggling to maintain my composure.
Levi laughed as he smacked my cheek again. I offered him a small smile as I grabbed his hand and placed a wet raspberry on his palm. Levi belly laughed deeply, throwing himself back onto my forearm.
“J-just her wrist,” Aya said. “It’s swollen and hurts her to move it.”
“What happened to the date?” I gritted out. “I hope Cam castrates him.”
“He deserves it,” Nash muttered.
Jasmine had been more of a mother to him than his own, and Nash loved Jasmine as much as her own kids did.
“You’re right. I don’t know what Cam will do. But he’s currently out cold. Kate said Mama whacked him with her lamp—you know the big one on the table by the door?
I sure did. It was a large brass one. Heavy. Sturdy.
“Yeah, that thing’s a beast,” Nash said. “Hefty, too, I bet.”
“Well, she managed to get in a few licks with it before he could do anything else to her,” Aya said. “Jenna said Mama Grace was standing over him, yelling about not touching her girls when she and Kate walked in.”
I gave a short, sharp nod. Jasmine would have been worried about her family; that was the way she was wired. Still, the man shouldn’t have been close enough, or stupid enough to touch her. “So, he didn’t…” I couldn’t get more words out.
“She’s okay,” Aya said. Her cool fingers were on my forearm. I raised my head and met her gaze. In it was understanding.
Levi patted me again, no doubt wanting me to blow another raspberry for him. I winced when his finger grazed my eye. Aya lifted him from my arms. I felt naked, empty. Bereft.
Jasmine was hurt. She would be scared to be alone in her own home.
Terror sat, nasty and sharp, in my gut. Jasmine had been hurt.
Cam had great security, and I was sure he’d had the asshole who’d come out to pick up his mother tonight checked out.
But even still, with all those safeguards, the man made it onto the ranch and hurt Jasmine.
“You guys good here?” I asked.
Nash shot me a look before he nodded. No doubt he was surprised I hadn’t moved back to the sink where the last of the pots sat, but I couldn’t focus on that, not now.
My mind kept returning to my mother’s quiet, painful sobs late at night after my father passed out from drink. She never knew I’d heard her, but I knew how much the pain and fear affected her.
Just as I knew it would impact Jasmine. The first time was the worst, left me questioning how someone could do that to someone else.
Jasmine was so attuned to her family’s feelings and needs that she often set her own aside.
But this…an assault would force her to deal with not just the emotions that bubbled up from the attack but a lot of other issues she’d thought we buried.
“Thanks for holding Levi for me,” Nash said. I paused, my gaze flashing to his. “Keeping him safe when Aya needed me.”
I blinked as the realization of what Nash implied settled over me. I’d held my rage in check, I’d been able to focus on Levi’s needs. My lips compressed in a firm line as I gave a single nod.
“That’s what family should do for each other,” I said.
Nash held my gaze for a long beat. “Yes, it’s what families should do.”
He was remembering what I’d told him, about my father.
I blinked at him as I watched the realization why I steered clear of Jasmine settled over him.
In that time when I held his son, he must have read my fear of repeating my father’s behavior.
Or maybe he’d put it together before. I hadn’t told him any of the details of my father’s abuse, but Nash understood the concern that I was doomed to repeat the past.
He understood because it was his fight, the one he battled against addiction each day. I swallowed thickly as I walked over and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“I’m leaving the dishes in the sink,” Nash said. “They’ll be here in the morning—or whenever you get back from checking on Mama Grace.”
I chuckled. It was rusty and painful but I appreciated the levity. “I’m sure they will be.”
Then, I walked out the back door toward my much smaller cottage. Once in I settled onto the couch in the living room, my phone in my hand, in the dark. I wanted to call Jasmine. I needed to hear her voice, but if I did, I wouldn’t stop until I had her in my arms.
I settled for a text: Are you okay? I’m worried.
I checked the screen obsessively, so I knew when she read the message. But it wasn’t until after midnight, when I’d gone back to Nash’s house and scrubbed the pots and cleaned up the kitchen so that it sparkled, that she replied. She sent a picture of her arm in a cast, and: Not yet, but I will be.
She was hurting, and she’d be alone by now, I was sure of it.
Jasmine would have sent the kids home to get rest even though she was still at the hospital.
That was just her way; she considered others before herself, and because she was their mother, they’d been conditioned not just to listen to her but to expect that self-sacrifice.
The problem was no one was Jasmine’s champion.
As far as I could tell, she hadn’t had one since Cam and Carter’s father died thirty-odd years ago.
I could be that for her. Maybe. Well, not if I continued down the path I’d set for myself—the path of avoidance that I thought was protecting her.
Clearly, I’d been wrong. Devastatingly so.
Swallowing that truth hurt, but it didn’t make it less true.
I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom where I lay atop the comforter, still dressed. My thoughts jumbled and twisted together and over themselves like a wriggling mass of newborn snakes.
I kept coming back to the realization that I hadn’t given in to the rage that consumed me when I heard the news. I’d held Levi, made him laugh even as those horrible sensation poked at me.