But it’s like she doesn’t hear me, her nails claw into my arms and chest in her attempt to escape. She’d been gone longer than usual, and when twenty minutes turned to thirty and then forty, a sense of dread had spurred me on. My brothers had followed quickly after, but they’re both somewhere else in these woods. We’d split up to look for her with the plan to meet at the falls, but Niamh found me first.
What had scared her so much that she was sprinting through the forest in just her bikini and a towel? Shedoesn’t even have her usual swim bag with her. Her skin is pale, eyes wide and full of terror.
“Niamh, baby,” I tighten my arms even further, her body pinned to the ground beneath mine, “Look at me.Look at me.”
Her body freezes, goes completely still as she finally brings her eyes to my face and sheseesme. “Roman?” There’s a raw scrape in her voice.
“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me.”
She swallows thickly, her breathing still too quick, chest heaving. Water still clings to her, there’s a pool of it in the dip between her clavicles, and caught at her lashes or maybe those are tears.
“Was it you?” She croaks.
“Was what me?”
“In the woods, someone was watching me.” She rushes out her words, “They were at the falls and then —”
“Did you see them?” I demand, “What did they look like?”
Shit. I should have known something like this was going to happen. The quiet around here doesn’t stay quiet for long. It’s always something. The past always has a way of catching up with us, unfinished business, vendettas and revenge. The ring on Niamh’s finger is a target.
“It wasn’t you?” Her eyes are glazed, more tears pooling along her lower lash line. Her plump bottom lip trembles as she searches for her answer on my face, throat working to swallow.
“It wasn’t me,” I assure her, grunting in pain when she moves beneath me. I’d forgotten for a momentabout my ribs and bruising, my narrow-minded focus on her and her alone. The pain meds are good, but notthatgood.
“Oh, God!” She cries, “Your ribs!”
“I’m okay.” But she’s shaking her head, disbelief and horror replacing the fear on her face.
“I ran right into you!” She gasps, “Roman, you have broken ribs!”
“I don’t care!” I snap out, “I don’t care, I only care about you right now. Are you hurt?”
“Me!?” She scoffs, “Are you insane!?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m fine!” She hisses back, “We need to get you up. Can you stand?”
“I broke a rib, not a leg.” I release a breath and finally loosen my arms, pushing up with the palms of my hands so I can settle onto my knees. The burn in my chest and back has my breath coming in short bursts, my vision going foggy at the edges as I work myself through the wave of pain. It doesn’t feel like I’ve done anymore damage; it’s still just that steady ache that’s been present since I came off Pippin.
“Roman,” Niamh gets to her knees in front of me, “Why did you do that?” Her hands are on my face, and then my neck, touching, assessing until they come to a stop on my side with the broken ribs. It’s a butterfly touch, a whisper of her hand as she runs her fingers over the hurt.
“You were scared,” I grit out like that solves everything. Truthfully it does, I’d throw myself into the fire if it meant I didn’t have to see that look of terror in her eyes ever again. She is meant to be safe here,Iammeant to keep her safe. Her thumb moves in circles over the fabric of my shirt, a soothing touch to ease. Lifting a hand, I cup the side of her face, needing to feel to know she is okay. I can’t see any obvious injuries on her, just remnants of her fear and pale skin.
A breath stutters from her lips, shaky, but her shoulders loosen, and she subtly leans into my palm, eyes closing for a fraction of a second as if allowing herself a moment to ground herself.
I want to drag her to me, pull her in and wrap her against my body.
“Sweetheart,” I rasp, my thumb trailing to her bottom lip, running along it, the pillowy softness searing the pad and reminding me what it felt like to be kissed by her.
“Let’s get back,” She suggests, gently pulling back, “I’ll help you.”
I dip my chin in agreement and allow her to help me to my feet.
She puts my arm over her shoulders and holds on, but I keep my weight off. She’s so much smaller than I am, she won’t be able to get us both back. With her this close, that wildflower scent of hers wraps around me, mixing with the warmth and softness of her body.
It takes longer than usual to make it to the ranch, but once inside, she leads us through to the living room before she helps me lower onto the couch and then spins, reaching for the meds I left on the table.
