“You’re right, but will you tell them for me, please? I meant it when I said I don’t want to keep reliving it.”
He tilted his head toward the house. “Emily said she’d tell them.”
Her eyes widened. She’d explained everything to Emily in great detail, hoping if she got it out, it wouldn’t have so much of an effect on her. Judging by her reaction to the flowers, it hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped.
“Don’t worry, she’ll give them the edited version you gave me last night. Not the full, graphic explanation you shared with your therapist.”
Riley stomped her foot again and let out a little growl. “I need a distraction. But I don’t want to go to the punching bag still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” She pointed toward the house. “And I definitely don’t want to go back in there right now.”
“So, let’s go for a ride.”
“Ugh, I’ve just spent two days in the saddle.”
“I know, so let’s ride four-wheelers.”
She hadn’t ridden a four-wheeler much since she’d come home. Not for pleasure anyway. A good long ride would do her some good, but a ride alone wasn’t enough to blow off the kind of steam that she needed to vent.
“Okay, let’s do it.” She grabbed his arm as he turned toward the equipment shed. “But I’m in the mood to be destructive. Go in the house and get a couple rifles.”
“That’s what I mean about loud and sensational.” Daniel laughed. “I’ll be right back. Make sure the four-wheelers have plenty of gas to make it out to the shooting range and back.”
Riley wanted to kiss Daniel ten minutes later when he arrived at the equipment shed carrying two rifles slung over his shoulder and a heaping plate full of scones dripping with Lottie’s whipped honey butter. She settled for stealing the plate from him and lavishing her attention on the scones.
“Hey, you’d better save me a couple of those, Pockets.”
“No promitheth,” she said around a mouthful of fried dough.
Racing across the ranch and shooting were exactly what Riley needed, and after beating Daniel in a friendly target practice competition, she felt even better.
Her euphoria quickly dissipated, however, when they returned to the ranch house to find her mother’s and Robert’s vehicles parked out front.
Daniel must have noticed that her gait slowed because he put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Pockets. They are your family. They’re here because they love you.”
“I know. I just…” She stopped talking when she struggled to find a valid reason to explain her hesitancy.
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
“Yes.” She grabbed his hand and walked toward the back door of the house. She released it again less than a minute later when she found herself enveloped in her mother’s arms seconds after walking into the house.
“Oh, my dear, sweet girl.” Faith Winters was a small woman, but she gave the most amazing hugs. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
Riley caught sight of the love and concern on the faces of everyone in the room; her protective older brothers, her sweet and caring sisters-in-law, Zane and Lottie, her second parents. She squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the emotion that clogged her throat. A few tears managed to leak from the corner of her eyes.
Why had she thought keeping what happened to her a secret was the best way to protect herself and everyone around her? She’d isolated herself because of shame and fear, but it had only made it all worse. Pride kept her from admitting she wasn’t strong enough to stop Collin, but now, she realized real strength came from trusting others. She’d treated everyone around her horribly, and she felt terrible about that.
“I wish you’d felt like you could tell me,” Mom said as she continued to hold her.
Riley sniffled. “It wasn’t just you mom. Except for Dr. Nelson, I didn’t tell anyone until last week.”
“But Emily said you went to the police.” Robert stepped close.
Mom released her, and they turned to face her oldest brother.
“A lot of good it did me. Collin managed to talk his way out of even being charged.”
“You should have called Uncle Lincoln.”
“Why?” Riley could count on one hand the number of times she’d met their mom’s much older brother.
