My face twisted with confusion. “I’ve never been the dog’s dick of Hambleton; that was Breaker and Bowie. While they were railing their way through the women of Southern Wyoming, I was stationed God knows where, serving my country.”
“And fuckin’ females,” he added.
“Bullshit,” I retorted. “I’m not saying I didn’t flirt, but I haven’t been with half the women you think I have. Jesus, Atlas,I was stationed in Army bases all over the country, even the world. There’s not a lot of opportunity for...” My voice trailed off.
“Shenanigans?” Atlas suggested.
My chin dipped. “Yeah... Shenanigans. When I came home on leave, girls threw themselves at me. I needed to blow off steam, and I made my intentions clear, so I wasn’t hurting anyone. A few started blabbing to other girls, who then blabbed to other girls, and the next thing I knew, I was some kind of fuck-boy.”
Atlas’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve probably been with more women than I have,” I accused. “My sex life is greatly exaggerated, brother. I only need to talk to a girl, and suddenly we’re sleeping together. I was a little asshole when I was younger, I’ll give you that, but over the last five years, I can count my so-called conquests on one hand. Fucking around got old for me a long time ago. Not saying I’ve lived like a monk, but I’m not the ho you think I am. The problem is, once you’ve earned yourself a reputation, people confuse it with your character, and that’s wrong because a reputation is constructed by others, but your character can only be built by yourself. What others believe of you and what you believe about yourself are never the same.”
Atlas nodded thoughtfully. “I believe you, brother. Seen your character, and it’s nothin’ like your reputation. You’ve been solid with my sister, especially with all this custody bullshit. Also seen the way you are with your baby girl, and I can honestly say, you’ve shown yourself to be a stand-up guy. Not ashamed to admit I bought into the man-ho shit, and that’s on me. Not proud of it, but man enough to admit it nonetheless.”
I clapped Atlas on his large, rock-hard shoulder. “Appreciate you, brother. And I also appreciate everything you’ve done for Rosie.”
“She’s my sister,” Atlas said in an unusually soft voice for him. “I’d do anythin’ for her.”
“Works both ways.” I let out a soft chuckle. “Look at us bonding. Who’d have thought it?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, young Donovan,” he drawled. “You’ve still gotta make an honest woman of her. When the time comes, that’ll be the true test.”
“You think I wouldn’t marry her tomorrow?” I challenged. “I need to get her over this custody battle first. She doesn’t trust easily, and Evan hasn’t helped. She says she wants more kids and to get married again, but her first marriage scarred her more than I think even she realizes. She’s suffering from depression. It’s mild, but it’s there, and it’s affecting her, so I gotta get her over that bump before I slide a diamond on her finger. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us to do it before.”
Atlas’s eyes sliced to his sister. “Depression, you say?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Your sister’s had a hard few years, but she’ll be okay. I’ll make it so.”
“I knew she was strugglin’ with Ma’s illness,” Atlas began. “And I could see she was more subdued than normal, but I never realized?—”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” I cut in. “Don’t play the blame game. Some people suffer just by going through normal life challenges. Others go through hell, and it doesn’t touch them. Nobody can predict it, Atlas. All we can do is support our girl, especially since she’d be the first one to support us.”
“Should I get Sophie to have a word?” he asked.
“Sure,” I agreed. “The more people she has at her back, the better. But let’s deal with one thing at a time. We’ll put this case in the rearview, and then we can focus on what’s important. Rosie can’t heal while this is going on.”
“Fuckin’ Evan,” he grumbled. “That bastard’s got a lot to answer for.”
“Oh, he’ll pay,” I vowed, my gaze going to Rosie, who was deep in conversation with Kennedy and Layla. “The bastard won’t get away with what he’s done.”
She must have sensed me watching her because she looked up and flashed a smile. Her soulful brown eyes filled with a storm of emotions that I didn’t doubt were mirrored in mine.
It was then that something hit me like an arrow to the heart.
Over the years, I’d looked into many women’s eyes, but I’d never got lost in anyone’s but Rosie’s.
—————
Later that night,we were lying in bed, in our usual position of my arm around Rosie’s neck with her cheek resting on my chest. Our dinner was fine, but my woman was a million miles away for most of it, and understandably so.
There was nothing I could say or do to get Rosie’s mind off the court case the next day, so we just lay together with her fingertips tracing the tattoos on my chest and arms.
“Why did you get this one?” she asked softly, stroking over the lines of the Virgin Mary tattoo on my sternum.
I glanced over at Imogen, who was sleeping soundly in her travel crib, before looking down at Rosie, one side of my mouth quirking. “Who does Mary, mother of Jesus, remind you of?”
She giggled quietly, so as not to wake the baby. “Your mom.”
