Chapter 13
Tucker
Ruth looks like she’s about to pass out. Two seconds away from collapsing to the floor as she stares down at the phone in her hand like she’s seen a ghost.
Stepping toward her, I hook one arm around her waist—just in case my assessment of the situation is correct—then carefully extricate the phone from her hand with the other.
Because I’m a nosy fucker, and because as her future fake fiancé it’s at least somewhat my responsibility to keep her safe, I look down at the name displayed.
It seems familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before.
It stops ringing as the call is sent to voicemail, and I shove it in my pocket before focusing all my attention on the pale, trembling woman next to me.
“Come on, Ruthless.” I try to move her toward the great room. “I think it’s time for us to have a talk.”
I don’t know how much she’s going to be willing to tell me, but I need something from her. Just a tiny clue about how the name on the phone connects with the man who left a threatening message on her door this morning.
Because I’m sure it does.
It feels so fucking long ago already. She showed up on my doorstep barely over three days ago and that’s fucking with my head a little. How has so much happened in such a short period of time?
Ruth seems to struggle to get her limbs moving, and she’s wobbly enough I’m not confident she won’t face-plant onto the hardwood.
In a move that would horrify Trevor, I scoop her up, carrying her through the house.
I’m surprised at the way she curls against me, her head dropping to my shoulder as her eyes slip closed.
I slowly lower to the couch, draping her across my lap as I smooth back her dark hair. Tucking my chin, I lower my eyes to her face, wracking my brain for somewhere to start this conversation.
Unfortunately, my lack of history developing any sort of an emotional connection with women has left me woefully ill-equipped.
I still don’t regret it—a relationship simply isn’t worth the risk—but it would be nice to have at least a couple tools in my arsenal to make the process of creating our fake connection a little easier.
Since I can’t think of any careful or gentle or insightful ways to begin, I stick with simple. “What was that about?”
Ruth opens her eyes, expression grim as she sighs. “I’m just stupid is all.”
I know it’s a terrible reaction, but I can’t stop the bark of laughter that jumps out. “No.” I can’t stop laughing even though she’s glaring at me, because that’s the most ridiculous fucking claim I’ve ever heard. “You’re not.”
Ruth’s brows pinch together, anger blooming on her face. “Yes, I am.”
Are we really arguing about this?
The set of her jaw indicates that maybe we are. But I could possibly angle this in my favor.
As long as I survive.
“Okay. You’re stupid.” I don’t believe it for a second, but the shocked outrage on her face is cute enough to keep me going. “What did you do that was so stupid?”
I’ve got her riled up, and I’m hoping that makes her a little more free with her information. Because the more I learn about what’s going on in Ruth’s life, the more I’m coming to suspect my reasons for doing what we’re doing are petty as fuck, comparatively speaking.
“A man.”
She snaps the two words out like lashes. But they don’t cut, because I’m not shocked.
“Birdie’s dad?”
Disgust contorts her pretty features. “He’s not her dad.”
My brows lift, because that would have explained everything.
But then Ruth elaborates. “He contributed genetic material. That’s it.”
So I was wrong, but in the right way.
“Was he the man banging on your door this morning?”
Ruth’s body stiffens a little in my arms as her eyes drop to her lap. Her head barely shakes. “No. But I’m sure it was someone he sent.”
I’m pretty confident there’s no Mafia in Willow Bend, but who else would send men out to threaten people like that? And not just people, a woman on her own who has absolutely no one to rely on. No one to protect her.
As far as they knew.
“What does he want?” My stomach bottoms out as I come up with the answer to my own question. “Birdie.”
No wonder Ruth was willing to extort me. I see why she’s trying to move across the country. The reason behind actions that admittedly worked out in my favor, even if most people would consider them questionable at best.
But Ruth doesn’t immediately confirm my suspicions. She rubs her lips together, considering for a minute. “I don’t know exactly what he wants, and I don’t necessarily want to find out.”
That… Doesn’t make a lot of sense. “He hasn’t told you what he wants?”
“At one point he did, but that option is no longer available.”
She pulls in a deep breath, eyes darting around and widening a little when she seems to realize where she is.
Before I can even attempt to help, Ruth is scooting off my lap, her dismount wobbly and a little off-balance as she worms her way to her feet.
Her eyes don’t meet mine as she smooths out her clothes and shifts the conversation. “Your brother seems nice.”
I know I should be grateful I got anything out of her at all, but I’m not quite ready to abandon our conversation. Not when there’s still so much not adding up. “He is.”
Calling Titus nice is probably the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard, but she doesn’t really know him yet. If she did, she would know my oldest brother is one of the best humans out there. Has been through more than someone as good as he is should have to withstand.
“Is he enjoying being a dad?” There’s a weird pitch to her voice. An odd strain to the question.
“More than anyone in the history of the universe.” I smile, thinking about the way fate finally tried to right its wrongs by dropping Mariah into my brother’s life. “You’re lucky you got to see him without at least one of the babies attached to his hip. That doesn’t happen often.”
With the exception of the single day Mariah forces him to come to the office, my brother always has his kids close by. Near enough to remind him they’re safe. Healthy. Happy. After what happened to his first child, I can’t imagine what goes through his mind when he’s away from them.
And I don’t want to. There’s already enough fucking my head up as it is.
Ruth tilts her head, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit. Like she doesn’t believe me. “That’s cool.”
I study her, trying to come up with a way for everything I’ve learned about her to fit together and complete a picture. But there still seems like so much is missing.
She’s on her own, that much I know. I was the only person she could call when she needed rescuing.
I also know the guy who contributed to Birdie's creation is a piece of shit who sends other men to do his dirty work. If Ruth doesn’t know what he genuinely wants, that also means he doesn’t help her out in any sort of way—financial or otherwise.
Circling me right back to how Ruth is completely on her own.
Was completely on her own.
I know I’m not a permanent fixture in her and her daughter’s life—and I don’t want to be—but at least for the time she’s here, I can give her the break she desperately needs. A minute to breathe. A tiny scrap of time where everything isn’t pressing on her shoulders alone.
That’s why, when I hear the sound of Birdie's little voice carrying down the stairs, I quickly stand, following Ruth up to the guest room where her daughter’s been napping.
I make a mental note to order one of those walkie-talkie monitor things.
That way she can keep an eye on Birdie from wherever she is in the house.
I unhook the gate and pull it out of the doorway so Ruth doesn’t have to attempt to step over it.
I’m certainly not opposed to having my hands on her again, but I’m not sure Ruth finds it as enjoyable of an experience as I do.
There’s a certain amount of contact our agreement requires, but I need to be careful about anything that goes beyond that.
I don’t want Ruth to be uncomfortable around me. I want her to feel safe.
Especially since it doesn’t seem like that’s a common occurrence for her.
Propped against the doorway, I watch as she scoops Birdie up, quietly talking to the rumpled looking toddler as she smooths down her curly hair. The moment is calm and comforting. A glimpse of peace in an otherwise chaotic—and likely scary—day.
One quick diaper change later, Ruth emerges from the room. Birdie gives me a grin as soon as she sees me, her sleep flushed cheeks bunching up from how wide she smiles.
I’ve enjoyed spending time with Marybeth and Mitchell, but they're still young enough they don’t interact a whole lot.
Being around Birdie is a totally different experience.
She can say a few words, making it possible to communicate with her.
She can feed herself, even if it is a little messy.
She plays with toys, runs around, and makes messes.
Along with horrible smells, but I’m willing to overlook that.
We return to the main floor, and I replace the gate, ensuring Ruth’s rambunctious daughter won’t attempt to scale the stairs.
Once it’s in place, we head to the great room.
Going straight to the corner I designated as hers, I plop down on the carpet, pulling out the barnyard she seemed to enjoy when she was here yesterday.
Birdie starts wiggling in her momma’s arms, turning to a limp noodle when she doesn’t immediately put her down.
“Are you serious?” Ruth grunts a little as she attempts to not drop her daughter, quickly setting her feet on the floor. “One day I’m going to lose my grip, and you’re going to fall on your face.”
She’s probably right. I was a super energetic kid—I’m also a super energetic adult—and when I want to do something, there’s not much that stops me. If I fall on my face, I fall on my face.
Birdie runs straight for me, sliding to a stop like she’s at home plate when she reaches my spot on the floor. We spend the next hour playing together, pretending there’s a farm, sending bubbles floating through the air, and putting together puzzles.
We’ve just finished the last puzzle when Birdie turns to me, doing something weird with her hands. At first, I think she’s just scratching her stomach, but her eyes are on mine as she runs her hand up and down the center of her torso, fingers and thumb curled in toward her palm a little.
Like she’s trying to tell me something.
“What’s wrong?” I look her over. “Does your tummy hurt?”
Ruth’s eyes come to us from where she’s been sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone in peace. She barely sees the motion Birdie’s making, but easily identifies it. “She’s hungry.”
Mothers must have a sixth sense, because that would not have been one of my guesses. “How can you tell?”
“Because that’s the sign for hungry.” Ruth stands, doing the same general movement Birdie did, just a little more purposefully.
I turn back to Birdie, who is now staring at me expectantly. “Hungry?”
A smile splits her face, displaying her tiny teeth. “Snack.”
I stand, grunting a little after being in the same position on the floor so long. “Then let’s get you a snack.”
Going into the kitchen, I open the fridge and start pulling out the items I picked up at the grocery yesterday after Ruth and Birdie left. I’m not going to make the decision of what’s best for her to eat, so I line them down the counter for her momma to pick.
Ruth stands silently, watching as I place yogurt pouches, blended fruit packets, grapes, strawberries, and a box of Cheerios onto the marble surface.
“I also have cheese and lunchmeat if you think she’d rather have something like that.” I’m especially glad I stocked my fridge now that the girls will be staying with me for the foreseeable future.
Ruth’s eyes move over the collection before lifting to my face. “Why did you get all this?”
“Because I knew you were going to be here today, and probably pretty regularly for the next few weeks, and I wanted to be sure Birdie had plenty to eat.” I feel like that’s an obvious answer, but I give it to her anyway.
“Unfortunately, you didn’t pack any snacks for yourself when we went to the park, so I’m not sure how excited you’re going to be over the options I got for you. They were more of a stab in the dark.”
Ruth’s brows lift, her eyes going wide. “You got snacks for me too?”
“Of course I did.” Ruth is doing me a huge solid.
And since convincing my family is half the purpose of this, I knew she would likely be spending a good chunk of time here.
“You can eat anything in the kitchen, and if there’s something else you’d like to have, just let me know.
I’ll make sure I get it the next time I get groceries. ”
It’s a pretty basic thing I did. Nothing earth shattering. But Ruth is still looking at me in total disbelief. Like me providing her and her daughter with snack foods is nothing she would have ever expected.
Or maybe even hoped for.
It makes me feel good in a way I can’t quite explain. Like I gave her something she’s never gotten before.
Clearing my throat, I pull my eyes from hers, because I don’t quite know what to do with the odd warmth in my chest. “Tomorrow we can grab Birdie's toddler bed on our way back from my work.” I realize I’m making a lot of assumptions and amend, “If you still want to go in with me.”
Ruth selects the box of yogurt pouches and opens it, twisting the cap off one before passing it to her daughter. “I’m a little nervous to stay here alone, especially if your mom gets home tomorrow.”
I don’t like Ruth being nervous about being around my mother, but I’m weirdly happy she and Birdie will be going with me into the office.
But only because I like to make sure they’re safe. Especially after what I witnessed this morning. I would worry about them being here alone. Not because of my mother, she’s going to love Ruth and Birdie regardless of whether or not she knows we’re full of shit.
But if someone else, someone associated with whoever left her a voice message less than hour ago, discovers where she is, I’m going to have to ask Tobias about the specifics of his plan to feed Matt to the mountain lions.
I know Ruth and Birdie would be safe in my house—as the owner of a security company it would be embarrassing if they weren’t—but someone showing up here would still be scary and nerve-racking. Not something I want Ruth or Birdie to go through.
Plus, the people at work will absolutely lose their shit over how adorable Birdie is. Rightfully so.
I lean against the counter, giving Ruth a grin as I imagine everyone doting on her little girl. “Then I guess we’re all taking a field trip to McKinley Security Systems in the morning.”