I looked past him, out the window and into the pasture, the image of what I'd seen when I helped her into the bath coming back to me. It was a sight I would never forget, one that made me want to castrate the bastard who had done that to her.
“Either he whipped her or he cut her,” Rhys said softly.
Or both, I thought.
Rhys frowned. “She didn’t mention that part.”
I figured there was a lot she’d left out. Rightfully so. For one, the details she had given us were more than any one person should’ve had to suffer. Having seen the jagged scars all over her back, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, neck to ass … I had realized then that it was far worse than she had let on. Although she certainly hadn’t spared us the details.
“She’s strong,” I told Rhys. “Far stronger than she even realizes.”
Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against mine. We remained like that for a few minutes. It was comforting to have him there. More so than I would’ve thought.
“You ever think that this whole time, we’ve been waitin’ for her? That this—the three of us—was supposed to happen?”
I understood what he meant; however, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it that way.
Because if it was true, while we were waiting…
Amy had been suffering. So, no, I didn’t want to think about it that way. Instead, I wanted to think that it was meant to be. That Amy was meant for the two of us. Twice the protection to keep her safe and ensure she never had to endure anything like that for the rest of her life.
The two of us stood there for a long time, neither of us moving. I liked that we could, that we didn’t have to be doing anything at all to be content.
“Please tell me the food’s ready.”
I pulled away from Rhys as Amy stepped into the kitchen. Once again, she was wearing my T-shirt, her legs bare.
“Are you tryin’ to kill me, woman?” I smirked, kissing her quickly as I moved toward the Crock-Pot on the counter. “And yes, you can eat. Find a chair and put your cute little ass in it.”
Rhys pulled out one of the chairs at the table for her, then went to the refrigerator. It was as though the man knew his way around my house. He didn’t. In fact, until yesterday, the sheriff had never been inside.
Oddly enough, I liked that he was making himself at home. It seemed natural.
“I need to call Reagan,” Amy said. “I’m sure she doesn’t care whether or not I’m home, but I want her to know when I’ll be there.”
That sounded like a question to me. Almost like Amy was asking when I was going to take her back to her place.
“Tea or water?” Rhys asked her. “Do you wanna go home right now?”
“Tea would be great. And no, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“That’ll never happen,” I mumbled under my breath. She could stay here as long as she wanted. Forever, in fact.
Shit.
When the hell had I started thinking like that?
Amy
I wasn’t about to ask Wolfe if I could stay the night.
Not that I didn’t want to, but it felt a little awkward right now.
I didn’t want them to think I was trying to hide out, although now that I thought about it, maybe I was. A little.
There was no denying that I felt safe at Wolfe’s house. Especially with Wolfe and Rhys there with me. I figured if they weren’t here, I'd feel just as exposed as I did at my own place. Ultimately, I knew there was nowhere I could hide forever. Eventually, he would find me. I only hoped I had a little notice so I could be ready.
Wolfe brought me a plate with beef roast, potatoes, carrots, and baby onions. On the side, there was a slice of cornbread. I had to fight back the tears. I wasn’t one to break down and cry all the time—in my nightmares, that was another story—so it embarrassed me a little.
