20. Chapter 20 - Cade
My beer is poised in front of my lips when I stop to watch her silently cry into her arms.
Setting down the bottle, I lean my elbows on my knees towards her. “Ros, is that really what you want?”
Her shoulders shuddering makes my chest hurt.
I feel awful for everything that she’s endured. It’s my fault Ava wasn’t there for her. That she was trapped there with no one who cared.
All the pain I’ve suffered was my own cause. But I was raised in a loving family who would give anyone the shirt off their back.
That makes me wince. I ruined that too.
But I’ve never been as alone as her. Mom still calls me to check in. Just knowing that someone is out there somehow makes things a little easier.
Rosalyn doesn’t have anyone.
Me?
I’m it.
“No,” she whimpers. “I hate them.”
“I’m making you a promise, right now, okay?
I ain’t quitting you, got it? When you’re ready to move on, become the person you’ve always wanted to be, I’ll be your biggest fan and cheer your success.
But I won’t be the one to walk away. I will protect you.
You have my word.” My teeth grit at the thought of either of her asshole brothers coming anywhere near her.
They’ve tortured her and she’s never had anyone stand up for her.
Blonde hair strays from her loose ponytail, framing her cheeks when she finally raises her red-rimmed eyes to look at me. Her sapphire irises nearly glow with the contrast when she stares at me.
But the tight edges betray her doubts. “Why? I’m nobody.”
A couple of weeks ago, I’d have said it was just because of Ava. Or to get evidence.
There’s more than that now. Rosalyn has a grit that keeps her showing up. She’s braided steel wrapped in a beautiful package.
“You’re stronger than you think you are. You’re special and you don’t even realize it.” I let one cheek rise in a crooked smile. “Not many people would keep hold of that rope with a bucking horse flashing hooves above their head like that. It takes a set of balls most men would be envious of.”
She snorts, but offers her own tilt of her full lips. “Special kind of stupid, as my dad would say.”
This time it’s my turn to scoff. “If your dad had done the opposite of every choice he made, he might have been an alright guy. Instead? He was a fucking prick.”
Her mouth drops into a circle. “I didn’t know anyone else saw that.”
“Ros—” I sit up, stretching my leg out. “—everyone did.” Shaking my head, I pick up my beer for another drink. “He had a reputation for being a belligerent shitbag.” I peer at her through one squinted eye as I swallow. “You’re a helluva survivor to outlast him.”
She visibly quakes with a shiver running through her. “Mom was worse.”
My gut boils with a wave of nausea remembering the scars that Ava had shown me. The torture she went through probably pales to what Rosalyn had to suffer after Ava was gone.
Best thing that ever happened to the world was those two Baileys being removed from it. It’s little wonder that John and Eli ended up just like them.
“Good riddance,” I mutter, finishing the last of my beer.
“I think that’s the happiest I remember ever seeing my brothers. They both drank and partied for a week.” She frowns, staring at the red stone on her finger. “I locked myself in my room. They kept throwing stuff, breaking things.” Her palms slip up to cover her ears as if she’s hearing them again.
My teeth grit. I’m not sure how to pull her out of this. Pushing myself up, I drop my empty bottle into the garbage, then grab a couple of cans of stew from the shelf. “Hungry?” Maybe a diversion would help?
With a sniffle she nods and glances up before she scrambles to her feet. “I can get it.”
“No, ma’am,” I grunt and deepen my voice. “Go sit, that’s an order.”
Soundlessly, she pushes to her feet and slides into the chair next to mine. She sits silently while I start warming the soup on the stove. It isn’t until she’s frowning at her knotted fingers that she speaks again. “I’m not used to this.”
“What? Having someone else take care of you?” Slowly pouring the hot blend into two bowls, I carry hers with a packet of crackers to the table. “Everyone deserves it sometimes.”
I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me, yet this is pretty satisfying. Seeing her actually accepting my gesture makes me hope that she might just be able to relax eventually.
It’d be better than her cowering or flinching.
I still hate that she had that reaction with me. If I do anything, I want her to learn she can trust me.
After setting my own food down, I reach in the fridge for another beer. “Want a bottle of water? Or a Dr. Pepper?”
Her blue eyes flicker up to fixate on the can, then down. “Um, water, please?”
Fuck. How do I show her it’s okay to have a preference? To stand up for herself?
“Is it the soda you really want?” I growl, setting both drinks in front of her. “You’re allowed to have likes and dislikes, Ros.” My palms rest on the tops of the beverages. “Now, be honest with me.” I lean over them, peering closely into her wavering gaze. “Which one do you want?”
That damn lip rolls again and I have a hard time not staring at her mouth.
“The Dr. Pepper,” she squeaks, dropping her hands to her lap before looking down.
I slide the sweaty cold can towards her, then slump into my chair with a crooked grin. “I’m proud of you.” Raising my beer, I pop the top and tip it to her in a gesture of a toast before taking a drink.
She freezes, her spoon poised above a morsel of potato, the very tip of it vibrating from her rapid breathing. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”
A boil of frustration and anger pinches my gut. Not at her, but the animals who have shoved her down so many times she’s terrified to even take a compliment.
“I’m not,” I say simply. “I won’t pretend to understand just how messed up your brothers are, but I avoid the habit of tearing other people down.
I genuinely am proud of you. For being brave enough to leave, for surviving the hell that they put you through.
And—” I lean closer, prying the tab on her unopened can for her.
“—for taking ownership in your own happiness. No one else can do that for you, Ros. You’re the only one who truly knows your own needs—” I tilt back and pick up my spoon.
“—wants—” I scoop a heaping pile of steaming meat up, realizing this is the first meal I’ve willingly shared with anyone in a really long time.
“—and desires.” It nearly scalds my tongue, but I’m starving.
Pink rushes up her throat to blaze over her cheeks.
“What?” I mumble through my full mouth.
She shakes her head then gently blows on a piece of carrot. “I don’t have any of those.”
I nearly choke. Washing down my food with a gulp of beer, I feel my brows furrowing over my nose.
“Bullshit. You like Dr. Pepper more than water. You like your mare more than your new horse.” My finger jabs towards the door.
“You like those thin ass riding boots over something that will actually keep your feet warm.” I break out a smile in an effort to convey that I’m teasing.
“I guess.” Her admission comes out softly, but I notice her back straighten ever so slightly.
There’s a small win. I’ll take it.
“I have an idea.” Turning back to my bowl, I scoop up another pile as my gaze lands on the pile of print outs calling my name. “I want you to tell me everything you’ve ever liked or wanted while I look at these pictures.” I pause, seeing the conflict wash across her features.
My voice drops as the raw truth rips slowly out of me. “It’ll help me. These are from the accident we lost Ava. I need you to keep my head here.” I rest my palm over the glossy image on top. “I don’t want to get lost in this again.”
She blinks rapidly, pulling away to lift her knees to her chest and wrap them tightly. “Is…I mean…are there pictures of her?” Her chin trembles but she reaches out to pick up the soda and take a small sip.
“No, just the truck. But there is some blood. You don’t have to look at them, just keep talking. That’d be a great favor.” My smile doesn’t have as much strength this time knowing the sour task I’ve set myself up for.
Her lips thin as her gaze bounces between my face and my hand. “My favorite color is red,” she stammers, lifting the can for another swallow. “Maybe because Ava liked it? I don’t know. Green is pretty nice—”
“Ros,” I grunt. “It’s okay to own whatever it is you love.”
With a deep breath, I turn the page to reveal an image of the fender wrapping a pine sapling.
“I hate evergreens now. All I can see are these pictures on repeat when I see one. In Texas I have great big oak and pecan trees.” My chest tightens as the next picture is the crumpled fender that looks as if it’s melted into the stump it hit.
“Pecan pie ice cream is my favorite. I had it once at Frozen Bones with Ava.” Rosalyn pulls the bowl to balance it on her legs before pulling out a spoonful of stew. “I’ve always wanted to try the real thing.”
“There’s enough at home to make a million desserts.” Funny, I’ve never tried one of the nuts that grow nearly wild on my property. The deer enjoy them, and the horses.
A few of the pictures show debris. There’s the rear tire. And tools from the bed of the truck. When I see the one with Ava’s cracked and broken phone laying in the gravel, I wince reflexively.
Fuck. The debris from Mason's car always guts me. This is where his wife died too. So much loss.
“I always thought my favorite would be apple, but that sounds delicious.” Ros scrapes the bottom of her bowl, avoiding the images spreading across the table.
My fingers rake through my hair, then I plant my forehead into my palm as I keep turning the sheets. There’s the bloody ground where they found me. We were both stupid enough not to wear our seatbelts and were thrown from the wreck when it barrel rolled.
And that’s the spot they found her.
The agonizing tug of grief tries to pull me in.
This time the memories of Ava and that night are blurry. Is that a good thing?
Rosalyn stands, lifting my empty dish from near my elbow.
But she stops. “A shield,” she murmurs.
That snaps me back to focus on her. I turn, confused. “Huh?”
Her mouth twists, dropping at the corner. “Ava said her necklace gave her super powers. She asked me what I’d want if I could have any ability. I’d want a shield so no one could hurt me again.”
Pain in my chest makes me feel as if I’ve been punched. Ava’s chain was still around her neck when she died, but the gems had broken from their fastener.
Who knows where they landed.
“Maybe if Ava had a shield, it wouldn’t have broken her heart one.” Rosalyn mutters from the sink.
I glance at her, turning in my chair. “Why would you say it like that?”
Her cheeks pale. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Her chin dips as she gestures with her head towards the pictures. “It was a silly thought. That’s all.”
When I shift back to the pile, her words still echo. “Is it because her necklace broke?”
“Um, it’s silly. I just saw the shape and it reminded me.” She rubs her cheek with her shoulder where a stray strand of her golden hair has fallen.
But ice races through my veins. “Where?” I exhale.
I’m a statue while she moves hesitantly closer to my side.
“There.” Her soapy finger extends, pointing to a sideways view of the front seat. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Droplets form a path where her arm was before she jerks it back. “Let me grab a towel.”
“No,” I bark, more harshly than I planned.
But I’m already clutching the photo.
How could I have missed this?
The angle is horrible. Yet now that she’s pointed it out, I can’t unsee it.
In the center of the steering wheel, there’s a perfect indent of the ruby and sapphire necklace I made myself all those years ago.
That tiny shadow shudders through me in a wave as everything I thought was true comes crashing down.
There’s only one way that mark got there.
Ava was driving.