19. Sarah
Sarah
Ipick up my phone and stare at it. Calling Katie should’ve been the easiest thing on my to-do list, but I’ve somehow managed to avoid it for nearly a full day.
It’s almost three in the afternoon, and I’ve folded laundry, prepped dinner, worked out, and watched a few hours of Netflix.
Apparently, I’m willing to do just about anything before making one phone call.
I even spent an hour online looking at horses for sale. I let out a slow breath and shake my head at myself. Call your damn best friend, Sarah.
I tap her name and hold the phone to my ear. It rings twice before she answers.
“Hey, slut,” Katie says. “What’s going on?”
I laugh.
“Oh, you know. Sitting on my ass, recovering from our trip.”
“Babe,” she says, “you fly to the fucking Bahamas in less than a week. You better start finding some energy.”
“Luca kept me up late,” I say. “It’s his fault.”
Katie gasps.
“Sarah Eileen, are you telling me you were getting railed instead of sleeping?”
I grin.
“Girl, that man never disappoints.”
Katie lets out a laugh on the other end of the phone. “How amazing is it that we both get pounded every night by men who worship the ground we walk on?”
Her laugh tugs at the corner of my mouth, but it doesn’t last. She has no idea the man she’s in love with has been lying to her since the day they met, and now so am I. Every time I pretend everything is normal, I become another person she has every reason not to trust.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“I asked you a question.”
Shit.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “My phone slipped.”
Katie snorts.
“You are such a disaster. Anyway, can you do our sleepover this Friday?”
“Um, yeah. That should be fine.”
“Good,” she says. “Because I already told Michael to make himself scarce.”
“How’d he take that?”
“He didn’t like it.” She laughs. “I’m pretty sure he actually growled at me.”
I laugh because I can picture Michael staring down at her, and Katie not backing down.
We spend the rest of the conversation talking about Montana. I tell her about the ranch, Daddy teaching Luca to ride, the drive-in, and how much my parents loved him. It feels good to have one conversation where I don’t have to hide anything.
By the time we say goodbye, I hear the door from the garage open. Luca steps inside, shrugging off his suit jacket as he walks toward me. My eyes immediately catch the blood staining the sleeve of his dress shirt, the holsters beneath it, and the pistols resting beneath.
He’s only been back at work for one day, and he’s already come home with someone else’s blood on him.
I hate it.
“Hey,” I say, pushing myself off the couch.
He meets me halfway between the living room and the kitchen.
“Hi,” he says before leaning down to kiss me.
I glance at the shoulder holsters.
“Can you take those off for me?”
He doesn’t ask why. He unclips the leather harness, slides it from his shoulders, and sets it on the kitchen table. Only then do I reach for the top button of his dress shirt.
“Let me get this in the wash.”
He lets me, but I can feel him studying me the whole time. Once the shirt is off, he catches my chin between his fingers.
“You okay?”
“Mhm,” I answer.
“Sarah.”
I force myself to look at him.
“I’m fine.”
I take the shirt from him and head for the laundry room before he can read anything else on my face.
I grab the container of stain remover paste Mama taught me to make years ago and set the shirt across the washing machine.
I work the paste into every spot of blood I can find.
It’s not only on the sleeve. There are stains along the collar, across the front of his shirt, and near the bottom hem.
It’s way more than I noticed when he first walked through the door.
For a second, I have to brace myself against the washing machine. My vision blurs, and before I can stop them, tears sting my eyes.
Fuck.
I straighten and lace my hands on top of my head, forcing myself to take a slow breath. Breathe, Sarah. It isn’t his blood. He’s not hurt. He’s okay.
“Sarah?” Luca calls.
“I’ll be right there.”
I dry my eyes with the back of my hand before taking one last breath.
When I step into the kitchen, he’s already watching me.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
His eyes search mine. I don’t make it another second.
“What happens when it’s your blood?”
“Baby Girl,” he says as he walks toward me.
“I knew what I was saying yes to,” I whisper. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
He slips his arms around me without saying anything.
“I can wash blood out of your clothes.”
My voice cracks.
“I don’t know if I could survive washing yours.”
His embrace tightens.
“I wish I could promise you that day will never come.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I wish I could promise this life will never come after me. Or you.”
I swallow hard.
“But I can’t lie to you.”
He brushes his thumb beneath my eye.
“What I can promise is that I’ll do everything in my power to come home to you every single day. Every decision I make, every room I walk into, every risk I take, I’ll be thinking about getting back to you.”
His hand settles against the side of my face.
“And if anyone ever comes after you...” His voice stays quiet, but there’s no mistaking the certainty behind it. “They’ll have to come through me first.”
I close my eyes.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting you. That’s the only promise I can make without lying to you.”