“Neither did you. Neither did Mom or Dad. We’re all just trying to survive the mess Dad made.” I softened my voice, seeing the hurt on her face. “I’m okay, Heather. I promise. He’s not hurting me. You have my word.”
“But he could.” She reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. “That’s what scares me, Nick. Men like him, families like his… They destroy people. And I can’t lose you.”
My gut twisted painfully, and I pulled her into a hug, ignoring the protest from my shoulder. She clung to me like she used to when we were kids and thunderstorms would roll through the valley.
“You’re not going to lose me,” I murmured into her hair. “I’m right here. Same ranch, same valley. Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” she whispered back.
She wasn’t wrong. Everything had changed. The ranch, my life, my marriage, and most terrifying of all, my feelings. But I couldn’t tell her that. Couldn’t admit that when Dante had asked me to stay, something in me had wanted to. That holding his hand had felt right in a way nothing else had in weeks.
“We’re gonna be okay,” I said at last. “I promise.”
And I almost believed it.
Chapter 12
Dante
When I woke, Nick wasn’t in the bed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and I realized that I’d slept through the night. The second thing I realized was that my pain medication had worn off, and breathing was starting to get very difficult.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit up, every movement sending sharp lances of fire through my chest. The empty bed beside me still held the impression of Nick’s body, the sheets cool to the touch. He’d been gone for a while.
The clock on the nightstand read eight-thirty. I’d slept for over eight hours straight, which explained why my ribs felt like they were being squeezed in a vice. I needed medication. Now.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pausing as a wave of dizziness washed over me. The room tilted slightly, and I had to grip the edge of the mattress to steady myself. Fuck. This was going to be harder than I’d thought.
One breath at a time, I told myself. Shallow and steady. Don’t push it.
I managed to stand, my legs feeling weak beneath me. The hallway stretched before me like a marathon course.Kitchen.I just needed to make it to the kitchen. The pills were there, waiting.
Each step was agony. My ribs screamed in protest, and I could feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool morning air. I kept one hand on the wall for support, inching forward like some kind of invalid.
This was humiliating. I’d taken bullets before, broken bones, gotten the shit kicked out of me in back alleys. But a fucking cow had reduced me to this, shuffling down a hallway in my own house like an old man.
When I finally made it to the kitchen, I practically collapsed against the counter. The pill bottle sat exactly where Nick had left it last night, next to a glass of water. I grabbed both with shaking hands, fumbling with the childproof cap until I wanted to throw the damn thing across the room.
Finally, I got it open. I shook out two pills, maybe I should’ve only taken one, but I was past caring, and swallowed them dry before chasing them with water. The cool liquid felt good going down my parched throat.
I leaned against the counter, breathing carefully, waiting for the medication to kick in. Through the window, I could see Nick out by the barn, talking to Angelo. Even from this distance, I could tell he was gesturing animatedly, probably giving instructions for the day.
He looked good in the morning light. Strong and capable, completely in his element. This was his world, and I was just some city boy trying to wear boots that were three sizes too large.
I thought about last night, about the way he’d held my hand. The concern in his eyes. The softness in his voice when he’d told me to rest. Something had shifted between us in that hospital room, and I wasn’t sure either of us knew what to do about it.
My father’s words echoed in my head.Don’t forget why you’re really there. The marriage was practical, a way to gain control of the ranch. Love was never supposed to be a factor.
But how could I not forget when Nick looked at me like he actually gave a damn? When he stayed by my bedside and made me sandwiches and threatened to call the hospital if I didn’t follow doctor’s orders?
I needed a shower. Maybe that would help clear my head, wash away some of this confusion along with the sweat and hospital smell that still clung to my skin.
The walk to the bathroom was only slightly less excruciating than the trip to the kitchen. I turned on the water, letting it heat up while I carefully peeled off my shirt. The mirror showed me what I already knew. There was a massive bruise blooming across my chest and side, purple and yellow and ugly as hell.
The heifer had done a number on me. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Nick safe.
That thought should’ve scared me. Should’ve sent warning bells ringing through my head. Instead, it just felt…true.
I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me. I braced myself against the shower wall, letting the spray rinse away the worst of the grime while I tried to keep my breathing shallow. Even the simple act of raising my arms to wash my hair sent sharp bolts of pain through my chest. I gave up halfway through, settling for running my fingers through it with one hand while the other stayed pressed against the tile for balance.
