“And you will. At some point, this will be behind us.”
“That might be so, but I’ll always have a scar on my body. A physical reminder of what happened.”
Calder growls in frustration. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Saint, and if you say kill you, I’m going to turn you over this counter and spank your ass until you drop that notion from your brain for good.”
What do I want him to do?
Before I can respond, his phone rings.
He pulls it from his pocket and frowns as he stares at the screen. “It’s Sawyer.”
“Okay? Answer it.”
His blue eyes cut through me a moment before he lifts the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
I can’t make out what Sawyer’s saying, but whatever it is, it isn’t good based on the shift of emotions in Calder’s eyes. He goes from irritated to angry, to downright furious in seconds.
“When?” A pause. “Fuck. Yeah, I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up, shoves his phone into his pocket, and starts moving toward the door despite the obvious pain it causes him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Ranch business. Nothing you need to worry about,” he says and grabs his truck keys from the counter. “Stay here. Don’t leave the house. Don’t answer the door for anyone except family.”
“Calder—”
Turning, he gives me a pleading look and says, “I mean it, Saint. Stay here. Please.”
He’s gone before I can argue, the front door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the windows. I stand in the empty kitchen, holding the now cold coffee, while trying to figure out what just happened. It felt like we were having a moment, like something was building there and then… the rug got pulled out from underneath us.
I put my mug on the counter and walk back into the living room. The house is beautiful. The type I would love to have and could see myself raising a family in, if the circumstances were different. It’s such a stupid thought to have, to even consider having children or a future with Calder. There is no future. How could I possibly be thinking about any of these things? About a future with a man like him? There is no future for us. Not with his father in the picture. Not when this home feels like a prison, and this marriage a sham.
I can’t fix what’s broken here. I can’t pray away the bad.
I collapse against the couch, all the thoughts pushing down on me at once. That’s when I crack, when the tears come, sliding down my cheeks, leaving warm tracks behind. I couldn’t stop them from falling if I tried.
At some point, I pass out from exhaustion, and when I wake up, it’s to the front door opening. I sit up fast enough to make myself dizzy. Dammit. The last thing I should be doing is sleeping. I get up and walk into the kitchen to see who is here, only to find Calder leaning against the wall. He looks worse than when he left. His face is pale, and beads of sweat cling to his brow. His arm is cradling his rib, and I don’t even have to ask if he’s okay. I can see the creases of pain etched into his handsome face.
“What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened, but it’s going to be okay. It’s all been taken care of, for now.” He moves toward the counter. “I need to make myself something to eat and then take a shower.”
Confusion bleeds into worry, and I walk toward him. “What do you mean it’s taken care of? What happened?”
He doesn’t speak, and I think maybe he isn’t going to tell me, but then he looks at me with a look of anguish in his eyes. “Word got back to my father that your dad’s been talking. Asking about us around town.”
“Okay? There’s nothing wrong with asking questions.”
Calder gives me a look that saysseriously?“In a town run by a criminal family, the last thing you want to do is go around sniffing and asking questions. That’s a good way to get a bullet in the head.”
“Please tell me you didn’t hurt him?” I reach for Calder without thinking and grip his forearm. He briefly looks down at my hand before looking back up at me, his gaze a little warmer than it was seconds ago.
“I didn’t hurt him, and I won’t, but that doesn’t mean my father won’t get someone else to do it. I can only do so much. If your father refuses to listen to me or my brothers, then it’s out of my hands.”
The thought of my father dying, of someone hurting him because of me… I would never forgive myself.
“I need to see him. I can tell him to stop. Tell him everything is okay.”
Calder nods. “That might help. He’s more likely to listen to you anyway, but it might be better to wait till the bruise on your face heals.”
