35. Kinleigh
THIRTY-FIVE
KINLEIGH
That night that Nash felt pulled to sit by that woman’s side at the hospital, I’d expected him to come back after a few hours, maybe call her a few times, and then, I don’t know. I guess that’s it. I guess I expected that when the shock and awe of the moment dissipated that his extreme concern for her may, too. Not maliciously but more so, in the normal ebb and flow of human nature.
But last week he approached me about bringing her to the house, that her being holed up in a motel while she recovers isn’t good for her mental health. While we’re all still living in Carsyn and Colton’s father’s house, he asked me for permission, either because the property belongs to me now or because I’m healing. Either way, I told him I’d love for her to come stay with us. Nash is still staying with us, too, and the more people around me, the better I feel. I’d been isolated for so long, voices and laughter are now all I want.
I later told Colton that Nash asked if Genevive–what we’ve since learned is her beautiful name—could stay here and work on healing, and apparently Nash had asked him too. He cares for Genevive, that’s clear now, and it goes beyond what I’d expect for a first responder.
I thought her lack of family or comfort to return to after such atrocities is what had his heart, but now I think something else about her pulls him in.
I’ve still yet to learn of his past, of the darkness that he harbors in his heart. Colton has offered to share with me, because that’s the bond a couple has; no secrets, even when it comes to friends' secrets. But I told him I want to earn Nash’s friendship, and therefore his history, by spending time getting to know him myself. Colton respects that.
And something tells me Nash isn’t moving back to Texas, the same way that Colton isn’t. In fact, he told me they packed up their entire apartment, leaving just furniture behind. I’d never envisioned sharing a home with other grown adults before, but for the time being, I find it so comforting. Sharing walls with other people who are also healing makes me feel less alone.
Today, Colton is bringing Genevive here. We’ve done some rearranging of things as the household grows and the two new properties are being built on the old Conway land. Colton and I are still sharing Levi’s old room, Carsyn is still in her room and now Nash is in the den while Genevive is taking Colton’s old room. We put flowers in there, and a pair of Carsyn’s sheets, along with books and candles, some bubble baths and soaps in the en-suite bathroom, and a small wardrobe of comfortable but new clothing. We’re ready for her.
In the kitchen, Carsyn and Colton are hip to hip, preparing a large lunch to welcome Gen. I’m excited to have her here, and as I watch Nash pace in front of the hearth, I think I’m not the only one.
I pat the couch. “Why don’t you take a seat? You’re gonna pace yourself ragged.” I smile softly at Nash as he reluctantly takes a seat near me, resting his elbows on his knees with a sigh. He captures his forehead between his hands, and looks at his feet when he speaks.
“I just want her to be happy here, you know?”
I reach out and touch between his shoulder blades, adjusting to casually touching other people. He lifts his head, focusing his eyes on me with a kind smile. “You got a calming way about you, you know that?”
I smirk. “I’ve had years of practice being calm.”
His smile fades as he straightens his spine. “I’m sorry, Kin, you know I didn’t mean?—”
I wave a hand in the space between us. “I’m kidding. Dr. Milovich says making light can help me process. It’s fine, honestly, Nash.” I take his hand and squeeze. “Therapy is really helping. I’m doing much better.” With that, I give him a piece of advice. “If you treat her like glass, she’ll become glass. Be careful with her, but let her show you how tough she really is.”
Nash blinks a few times, studying me. His dark hair needs a trim, and his beard does, too. I can see that nothing has been on his mind but helping since he’s arrived. “I’m glad you’re okay, Kin. And I’m glad you and Colton are together.” He smiles. “I knew him for ten years but only when you were back in his life did I ever really get to meet the real him.”
My eyes mist, but there’s a gentle knock at the door, and Nash is on his feet in no time.
He pulls open the door, and my eyes go to Colton in the kitchen, who rests his back against the counter. Wearing jeans and a button-up flannel, he folds his arms over his chest, smiling at me. My chest tightens as my focus becomes him, my feet taking me across the space toward him.
Reaching out, I slip into his waiting arms and close my eyes, savoring his embrace. He hugs me a thousand times a day, I think, and every time still feels like a blessing. I stack my chin against his pecs and peer up at him, loving how big he is, how protected I feel in his arms.
Not every girl gets to be with the man who saved her life. But I do.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing the words into my hairline with soft kisses, one of his hands stretching the length of my spine, making my pussy hot.
We’re making up for lost time in all the ways, and despite the fact that I’m not yet ready to hand over control when it comes to making love, I feel myself making leaps and bounds of progress.
Last night, Colton went down on me. Uncuffed, completely unrestrained. His fingers curled inside of me as I bucked my hips into his face, my hand falling to the top of his shoulder as I watched him feast on my center.
I came so fast.
No one has ever gone down on me. And I thank God for that fact every day.
Colton was my first.
I didn’t feel nervous having a man over my body while he was unrestrained. The more time I spend with Colton, the more the sharp tears inside me seem to heal. What’s more, he has never given me a single iota of a reason not to trust him fully.
Nash and Carsyn talk softly with Gen in the foyer, and Colton brings his lips to mine, speaking privately to me. “Let’s go talk to Gen and have a nice lunch. Then I’d like to have a long nap with you, sweetheart,” he says, capturing my lips in a slow, languid kiss. My insides warm and my thighs grow wobbly. I nod.
“That sounds perfect.”
Genevive sips her tea, the steam drifting up, causing the few tendrils of hair around her face to curl. Her hands wrap the mug tightly as she rests it atop her knees, pulled to her chest, the way I always used to sit.
I haven’t sat that way since being free. I didn’t realize it until this moment, watching Genevive instinctively and subconsciously sit in a self-preserving and self-protected state.
“Wow,” she breathes, digesting the entire story I’ve just told her. I started at age six, because I wanted Gen to know me, to know Colton, to understand us, that way she feels comfortable staying here as long as she needs. And I refuse to let my story be contained to what Forrest did to me; the love I share with Colton is so much bigger. So I tell her every detail, ending the night Colton rode me back here, thinking I was dead.
“And the last few months I’ve been seeing a therapist, and I went through a litany of tests early on after my rescue. A round of antibiotics and I’m okay now,” I tell her, sipping from my own mug of chamomile. Peering back through the glass sliding door leading to the back deck, where Gen and I are currently sitting, I see Carsyn, hands in the air, eyes wide.
She’s likely shouting, as striations of anger throb in her neck.
The topic I’ve been picking up on between Colton, Nash and Carsyn—one they’ve been trying to keep out of earshot from me and Gen—is that of my father.
Where the fuck is he? Is the FBI actually looking for him? In the meantime, why can’t we look for him? He needs to be held accountable. He needs to pay for what he did to those women.
Those are all things I’ve heard her saying, and all things I’ve ignored.
Colton and I have discussed this a few times, the topic never holding more than a few minutes of our time. Because for me, there is no question, no lingering debate.
I do not wish to spend my life chasing a demon.
I do not wish for Colton to spend his life doing that either.
The horizon is waiting, and that’s my main focus.
Carsyn and Nash, however, are struggling to accept that Forrest may get away with what he’s done. Not all criminals get caught. I’d be willing to bet their heated debate is revolving around Carsyn’s need to go hunting.
“How do you feel?” Gen asks, and my focus comes back to her. She tucks a wild curl behind her ear before giving the tea bag another few plunks.
“Good.” I smile, happy to mean it. Happy that I don’t have to give some semi-hopeful speech about “any day now” or something. “A lot of my healing came from therapy but being here, too. The open land, riding my horse, the family–” I catch myself, wanting her to know that the word means so much more than sharing blood. “We’ll be your family, Gen. If you’ll let us. I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere, but you belong here, the same as me.”
She swipes at her eyes, the light freckles along her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose darkening as she grows emotional. “I appreciate that.” She swallows thickly, staring at the smooth surface of her tea. “My mom died while I was in captivity. I hate knowing she died wondering where I am, and that her soul has to bear that burden.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Do you have an appointment with Dr. Milovich?”
Last week, Nash had asked me for his card, and I know he made a call on Gen’s behalf. She is without insurance or money, so she was hesitant. Nash told her the doctor would work for free, because of what had happened.
I also overheard Nash paying that doctor bill in advance. Six sessions he’d paid for all at once for Gen, but I kept the knowledge to myself.
She nods. “I’m starting tomorrow, actually. Two o’clock.” She lowers her mug to the small table between our chairs and presses her hand into her belly. I can’t see it behind her knees, but I know the gesture. “I’m pretty nervous.”
“That’s normal,” I say, trying to comfort her. “I sometimes get nervous, too. On days where I know memories will come back. But I always feel better after, I really do.” I smile at her and squeeze her hand again. “I hope it’s the same for you.”
She smiles. “Me too.” We stare out into the endless pastures, enjoying the beautiful way midday kisses the Earth, leaving traces of oranges and yellows everywhere. Finally, she sighs. “Lunch was incredible.”
I laugh. “I’m still not used to eating regularly.”
Gen wrinkles her nose. “So he starved you, too?”
I nod. “Not always but often. And sometimes I just… I couldn’t bring myself to eat.”
She tips her head to the side, considering my past for a moment. “Was it weird speaking again?”
I don’t have to think about her question because the facts come easily. “No, because I wanted to speak to Colton. I had no reason to speak until he came back to me.”
“So your uncle Garrison is on the run, too?” She adjusts the blanket to cover her legs again after noticing it had slipped off and pooled on the deck.
I think of the subtle ways in which Garrison helped us. I also remember that he did beat Colton, though, more than a few times.
Still, he helped us escape, and now, like my father, no one has heard from him in over a month. I wonder if he’s actually my uncle, considering my father was actually just a rapist who held me captive. “I guess,” I say, “if he even is my uncle.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll never understand how people can want to cause so much pain to others.”
I lift my mug and clink it to hers, despite the fact it’s resting on the table. “Amen, sister.”
Laughter rouses us from sleep, and I find myself waking with a smile.
That hasn’t happened in years.
Rolling to face him, I bring my lips to Colton’s and kiss him as he wakes. “Mmm,” he moans against my lips, making heat fill my core and drip into my lower half. “I love taking naps with you.”
I sigh, soaking in the warmth of his strong chest and the rousing scent around me: Colton’s soap and cologne, our bedsheets and meals we’ve eaten together, this home, our life. It’s beautiful and perfect and yet I know once I’m truly well and healed, this will end.
I peer up at him. “When do you have to start working?”
He lifts his head off the pillow, craning his neck to stare out the window. The curtains are drawn, because I like them that way. I like seeing outdoors, I like knowing where I am and knowing I can go outside at any time. Truthfully I think Colton feels much the same way.
In the last week, Colton and Nash decided they’d run a conglomerate of the two ranches. Both are trained and skilled cattle ranchers, and before that, each of them lived on ranches. They will revive and resume his father’s dead business—cattle ranching—and be the bosses.
Finally.
Though paperwork signing and choosing a new legal name for the ranch isn’t happening for a few weeks, Colton has already hired a crew of guys to get out here and get things cleaned up. Together we even called a few of my father’s old business partners, and within the week, our new operation will be receiving lots of Angus and Holstein heifers and steer. From there, the crew currently running mowers, baling hay, cleaning pens—they’ll run the day-to-day operations, under Nash and Colton.
He’s excited to be working in Wyoming again, to be working the land his father worked, and I know he’s thrilled to be doing it all with Nash.
“Next week when the cattle come, I gotta get out there for a few hours. But nothing is going to require my full-time attention until you’re ready for me to get out of your hair,” he says teasingly, stroking the back of his hand down my bare body.
Turns out, for all my issues, napping naked next to the sexiest man alive isn’t one of them.
“Kinney,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep, but sexier than ever. He smooths the pad of his thumb over my hardened nipple, and I arch my back responsively. Even the featherlight touches from Colton turn me to putty. “Can we talk about something?”
I know what this is about. My stomach clenches.