“May the earth be light on you.”
CHAPTER 32
We haven’t said a word to each other since she spoke those words to Chase. I buried him and marked his grave with nine rocks, his lucky number, and then we drove back to the ranch.
I follow behind her as we step through the door, Judge on my heels, and once inside, she heads right for the stairs whereas I go for the whiskey in the office.
Her hand on my wrists stops me.
“We don’t drown the pain,” She whispers, “Not in grief. We feel to respect their lives and what they meant to us, and then we drink.”
I search her face, wondering how true that is forher too. I’ve seen this woman guzzle almost an entire bottle by herself.
But I listen to her, and I let her lead me upstairs and into the bedroom where she takes me into the ensuite and turns the water on in the tub.
“I am sorry,” She says with her back to me. “I know the words don’t do enough, but know I mean them.”
“I know you do.” I look at her reflection in the mirror, noting the way her eyes are downcast, the blood and bruises a mar on her skin. “Come here.”
She doesn’t.
“It wasn’t a request,” I growl at her back.
She shivers and turns but stays in her spot. I reach for her, dragging her toward the vanity as steam begins to rise from the tub, swirling and blooming into hot clouds that mist over the mirror. Gently, I lift her until she’s sitting on the vanity and then run the water in the basin. It sputters out since the bath is filling, but there’s enough pressure for me to clean up her face and hands.
“You don’t have to,” she says, “I can do it.”
“You’re always looking after yourself, aren’t you?” My voice is all gravel. “Self-sufficient, independent. You don’t need anyone.”
Her throat works on a swallow.
“And I see that.” I nod to myself. “I admire it, even if your stubbornness pisses me off. But everyonce in a while,” I rinse the cloth under the water, “I want to do it. I want to take care of you.”
When her hands are clean, I throw the cloth into the hamper and reach for a fresh one, wetting it before I lift it to her face.
“Will you let me do that?” I ask.
“Yes,” She swallows, “You can do that.”
“Thank you.” My strokes are gentle as I clean up her face, careful over the fresh bruising on her skin as I wipe away the thin trickle of blood from the cut in her forehead. It’s superficial and likely won’t leave a scar, but her neck…
Curling my finger under her chin, I lift her head to allow the light to touch the clear handprint that’s been left on her throat. It’s a deep kind of red, the edges of it turning purple and blue.
“You beat every odd, Hellion,” I praise her.
She leans in close and brushes her lips across mine before she hops down off the vanity and reaches for my shirt. There’s nothing sexual about it, she simply undresses me, and I allow it, and then she guides me into the tub, instructing me to relax, get clean and then come to bed.
I listen to her beyond the door as I do just that, pushing down the grief and the sorrow cutting me up from the inside. I add it to the shit pile, letting it fester and rot.
When I’m clean, the dirt from beneath my nails gone, the dust and smell of earth erased from myhair, I get out and wrap a towel around my hips, heading into the bedroom.
Elena is sitting cross-legged on the floor, Judge’s head in her lap as she strokes between his ears. She’s dressed in one of the ranch’s branded t-shirts, her legs bare, hair pulled over one shoulder.
On the dresser there’s a small pour of whiskey in a glass, two ice cubes melting in the amber liquid.
“Chase refused to move,” She whispers, her fingers running down the length of Judge’s nose. “He wouldn’t fucking move.”
I head to the bed and take a seat, reaching for the whiskey. “What happened?”
