by Nicole Helm
She had her bar, her power, and her freedom. It should have been enough, but the list of bleak was holding her down, and she didn’t know how to be as brave as Jack and believe in a but.
“I’m not your happy ending, Jack,” she rasped.
“I don’t believe in happy endings anymore, Rose. Maybe I never did. I do know we don’t get what we deserve, and hard work doesn’t always pay off. That doesn’t change the beauty and hope of having a but.” He smiled then, so open and perfect and beautiful. “I care about you, Rose.” A gesture she didn’t deserve.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she whispered.
“I know.” He sighed and brushed his lips across hers, light and quick. “I have to go do my chores before the family wakes up. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Come with?”
“Yeah, you can watch me do manly chores, we can eat breakfast with my family, and then you can head home and get some rest before you have to open the bar.”
She should refuse, stop diving deeper into this thing that was going to end so very badly if she let him get more attached.
If you let yourself get more attached.
“Say yes,” he murmured against her neck, nuzzling there.
And she was a very, very stupid woman, because that’s exactly what she said.
Chapter 20
Jack felt a little like he’d conquered the world. Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so pleased with himself for convincing Rose to follow him back to Revival, but he couldn’t help it. She might not think of herself as his happy ending, but he was starting to think of her as an important part of his new beginning.
He pulled his truck next to Becca’s, Rose parking behind him. It was almost the exact same time as he’d arrived yesterday morning, and he stiffened as he looked toward the RV. Madison wasn’t standing there with the kid this time. The world was pinkish gold, and the only things that seemed to be awake were the cattle in the distance.
Thank God.
He left the truck and watched Rose get out of her car. The world behind her was still dusky dark where the sun hadn’t touched. Watching her walk toward him with the mountains in the distance was perhaps all he needed to know for sure that everything he’d done since leaving that rehab center had been the right choice. What possible other future could match up with this one?
“These chores better be super manly if I got out of bed for the show,” she grumbled, coming up next to him.
He took her hand in his. Though she tensed for a second, it was only another second before she relaxed into it. “Oh, they will be. And you can join me in the shower after.”
She snorted. “Don’t you share that bunkhouse with Gabe?”
“I’ll put up a no trespassing sign.”
“Yeah, he’ll love that.”
“He’ll deal,” Jack replied, tugging her close and brushing a kiss to her temple.
He thought maybe she tried to scowl, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned into him. Rose. Leaning. And he held her up. That was what he needed, what she needed. To just keep stepping forward, holding out a hand, being there.
They walked across the yard, but most of that solid happy feeling that had been taking up all the space in his body this morning leaked straight out.
“Mike.”
His brother was standing outside the bunkhouse, and Jack might have laughed at how familiar Mike’s expression was. He hadn’t been around his brother for years, and he still remembered that belligerent, agitated pose.
Rose muttered something under her breath, but Jack couldn’t make it out. Which was probably for the best.
“We need to talk.” Mike glared at Rose, who glared right back.
Jack shouldn’t find that amusing. “Okay, talk.”
“You can go,” Mike said pointedly at Rose.
Jack crossed his arms over his chest, torn between the desire to keep her beside him to prove a point and the urge to shelter her from whatever this was going to be. Rose kept her defiant gaze on Mike and crossed her own arms over her chest, so he figured he’d go with that.
“She’ll stay,” Jack said firmly.
“You sure you want her to hear about how you’ve been harassing my wife?”
“How I’ve been doing what?”
“Leave Madison alone.”
Jack could only stare. He and his brother had always been more rivals than friends, and he’d always known Mike harbored a certain amount of resentment toward him. That had never bothered Jack too much. He’d been happy with his life and figured all Mike’s behavior stemmed from him being unhappy with his.
Why was Mike unhappy now? He’d gotten everything that had been Jack’s.
“I don’t know what crap Madison’s feeding you, but I haven’t been talking to either of you more than I have to.”
“Bullshit,” Mike spat.
Jack tried to keep a leash on his temper. After all, what was the point in getting worked up over lies? Except Mike had essentially stolen his life. Jack didn’t want it now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t owed an apology—or at the very least, some respect.
“Don’t come at me like this, Mike. Do yourself a favor and head back to your wife and kid.”
“Never were my boss, Jack, so stop trying to tell me what to do.”
“What are you trying to prove?” Jack demanded, losing what little patience he had left.
“Oh, I know,” Rose said, raising her hand as if they were answering questions in a classroom. “He thinks wifey-poo is still in love with you. And instead of being a man and dealing with Madison directly, he’s coming after you.” She smiled all sharp-edged, faux sweetness at Mike. “Do I have it about right?”
“Fuck you.”
Jack took a step toward him, fingers curled, muscles bunching for impact, but Rose rested her hand on his shoulder.
“He’s not worth it, Jack. Sad, really.” Rose tsked and shook her head. “To be that insecure in your relationship.”
Jack glanced down at Rose and the self-satisfied smirk on her face, then at his brother, still spluttering and fuming.
It was so disorienting. No one ever provoked Mike. Mike was the one with the temper, so everyone ignored him or placated him or whatever. No one ever fought with Mike. The few times Jack had, he’d been tasked to be better. Because he was the even-tempered one. The calm one. The oldest.
“I came here this morning to talk to you, but like always, you’re hiding behind someone,” Mike said, sounding almost rational. So rational that Jack had to pause. Did he—No. No. No.
Mike gestured toward Rose. “Jack the Perfect, having a woman do his dirty work for him. You think you’re so great? Pretty sure you wouldn’t have gotten your dumb ass blown up if you knew a damn thing.”
The only thing that kept him from punching his brother right in the nose was the fact that Rose stepped forward and…
Did it for him.
Mike’s howl of outrage barely got through Jack’s utter shock. It happened so fast, he could only blink at Mike holding his nose and Rose shaking out her fist.
He wasn’t proud of it, but Jack started to laugh. And laugh. Until he could barely catch a breath.
Mike swore and threatened up a storm as he stalked away toward the main house.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Rose muttered.
“Oh, but I am so, so, so glad you did,” Jack managed between laughs. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and he would have been happy to sink into that kiss for approximately forever, but a clearing throat interrupted them.
“Do you mind?” Gabe asked when Jack pulled away from Rose. Gabe gestured at the door they were blocking. Then he frowned. “I thought I heard someone yelling.”
“That was Mike,” Jack said, laughing again. “Rose punched my
brother.” Jack couldn’t keep the sheer awe out of his tone. “You protected me,” he realized aloud.
“I wasn’t protecting you,” Rose retorted, wiggling out of his grasp. “I was giving that dick bag what he deserved is all.” She hugged her arms around herself, looking from Jack to Gabe and then back again with an expression he couldn’t read.
“Because he said something nasty about me.”
“I should have let you punch him. That would have been better.”
“No, no. Me punching him would have given him a little bit of what he wanted. He could have been the victim, which is where he prefers to be. But you? A woman? Oh, that’s going to eat him alive.”
“Your mom’s going to hate me.”
“If you’re faking, what do you care if his mom hates you?” Gabe asked.
Rose blinked, a pretty pink staining her cheeks. “I-I don’t want his m-mom to hate his fake girlfriend,” she stammered.
“And it isn’t all that fake,” Jack added.
Rose scowled at him, but he wasn’t about to pretend in front of Gabe. His family was one thing, but Gabe was a permanent in his world now.
Rose was going to be one too.
* * *
Rose looked back and forth from Gabe to Jack and back again, some weird thing fluttering around inside her. It wasn’t even panic. It was something she didn’t recognize at all.
It wasn’t as though she’d never punched a guy before. It was usually a drunk patron trying to cop a feel, not her fake boyfriend’s obnoxious brother. Occasionally, she’d get a smattering of applause in the bar if the guy was really annoying people, but no one ever looked at her with awe or pride over it.
There was nothing to be proud of, or in awe of. That little weasel had been insulting the most decent, brave, good man she’d ever met, and she just hadn’t been able to stand another moment.
“Well.” She took a breath in and out, trying to calm herself. There was nothing to get worked up about, other than the fact that she’d stepped her foot in Jack’s family drama. Other than the fact that she’d forever be the girl who’d punched Jack’s brother. Not just some random footnote everyone forgot about—she was a part of their history now. She couldn’t just disappear.
She wanted to bolt. She wanted Jack to wrap her up in those big, strong arms and tell her everything was going to be fine.
Which was so stupid. She had never in her life relied on anyone for that. Delia had tried, but even when Rose had been a little girl, she hadn’t wanted anyone protecting her, comforting her.
“Should I apologize? I don’t want to apologize. He’s a Grade A jackass.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Jack said with that bedrock conviction that always made her feel calmer against her will. “You don’t need to do anything. Whatever happens with this, I will handle my crazy family.”
“How on earth can he think he has any right to criticize you for not coming out of a war zone unscathed? How dare—”
“That little fucker said what?” Gabe demanded.
“Right?” Rose said, waving her arms in the air, feeling that fluttery worry perk up again. Maybe it was panic.
“That’s just Mike.”
“That’s bullshit. You are a million times the man he is.”
“Seconded,” Gabe added.
“Thank you. Both.”
And Jack seemed so touched. Why should he be touched? He was good. He was fantastic. He was damn near perfect, and she had punched his brother and complicated his life. “I need to go.” Somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from Jack and all the ways he changed her into someone and something else.
Or is this just a sign of the person you are under the armor? Oh God. She made a move to bolt, but Jack’s hand curled around her arm. Gently. So gently.
“Don’t go.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Gabe interrupted.
“Uh-oh. Angry mom, twelve o’clock,” he said, nodding toward the ranch house.
“Did that little asshole go tell on you to Mommy?” Rose all but shrieked. “I’m going to punch him again.”
Jack and Gabe both chuckled, but Rose couldn’t manage any lighthearted response. Not just because she was enraged at Mike’s tattling, but because Mrs. Armstrong was striding toward them in a robe. And slippers. She looked like every family-sitcom mother ever—perfectly coiffed though it wasn’t even six in the morning and just…mom-ish. Maternal.
Rose had never known anyone like that. Delia was a great mom, and so was Delia’s sister-in-law, Mel, but they tended to look more like frazzled ranchers than anything else. Her own mother had looked like…well, like anyone might expect an impoverished, chain-smoking, abused woman who’d had five kids to look like.
Rose swallowed. She would never be like Delia or Mel. Not like this amazing, put-together force advancing on them. Rose took another step backward, but Jack’s hand squeezed on her arm.
“You’re not a coward,” he said in that even, I’m in charge, soldier voice. “I’m sure she just wants to hear our side of things. Everyone knows Mike has a temper and—”
“And I punched him in the nose. Which is not the first time I’ve punched a guy. That was no lightweight, pulled punch.”
“It isn’t like you to panic,” he murmured, stoically watching his mother’s approach.
“It isn’t like me to have to deal with the mothers of decent, upstanding guys,” she muttered back, but he linked his fingers with hers, and oh, she was weak, because it steadied her immeasurably.
“Jack. Rose.” Mrs. Armstrong stood before them, and Rose could see where Jack got that blank-faced, what the fuck are they thinking expression. “Come inside the main house, please.”
“You’re in trouble,” Gabe singsonged quietly from behind Rose.
Which earned him a sharp look from Mrs. Armstrong.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got chores to do. I’ll see you around.” He patted Rose on the shoulder. “Good work, barkeep,” he said low enough that only she could hear before he hurried away from Mrs. Armstrong’s unreadable gaze.
This was awful. Disastrous. Stepping into his family drama was bad enough, but now she’d impressed his friends. Everyone was going to expect things of her. Of them. Things she’d never be able to give.
How many years had she kept her distance from her sisters for fear they’d see she wasn’t all she made herself out to be? For fear they’d find out she was made in Dad’s image. The only reason she still hung around was to keep them safe.
Or so you tell yourself.
Jack squeezed her hand, and she forced herself to focus on the present. Yeah, things were getting a little too real with Jack, with his family, but she’d still survived a hell of a lot worse than an awkward family confrontation. Why should a somewhat functional family and a woman in a robe frighten her? She took a deep breath in and then out and straightened her shoulders as Mrs. Armstrong marched them to the main house.
As they stepped into the cozy living room of the ranch house, Mike was sitting in an armchair looking like a petulant child with a baggie of ice pressed to his nose.
“Have a seat,” Mrs. Armstrong said, pointing to the couch. Mr. Armstrong was standing quietly in the corner. Vivian must have still been asleep. With any luck, Alex and Becca were out doing chores or something, because this was bound to be a little embarrassing for all involved. “Now, clearly we have some things to discuss.”
“Yeah, like why this bitch thinks she has any right to hit me.”
“Michael David Armstrong, you will watch your language,” Mr. Armstrong said gruffly, an odd kind of fury in his voice. Rose had never seen parental fury that didn’t turn into violence, and she tensed. Mr. Armstrong merely stood there, still and stoic, the only hint of that anger in his voice, not his face or fists.
“She sucker-punched me! I think I
can use some foul language.”
“But you won’t, because it’s unnecessary and inappropriate,” Mrs. Armstrong replied, and Rose supposed most people would mistake her for calm, but there was a vibrating something under that demeanor.
Which made Rose stand and say the last thing she’d thought she’d say. “I want to apologize.”
“Rose,” Jack said, clearly not wanting her to, but he didn’t get it. He didn’t get that his poor mother was clearly upset—not just about the violence, but at the way everything was going. She was a woman who clearly prided herself on having it all together, or at least looking like she did.
And to Rose, she looked like she was about to break.
“I can’t apologize for punching Mike, because he deserved it.” Rose kept talking over his outraged splutter. “I can’t sit back and listen to someone say awful, untrue things about someone I…” Oh shit, she’d almost said love. “…care about. It wasn’t right, especially from a brother, and maybe punching isn’t the answer, but it was the only one I had. So I’m sorry that my action upset you, Mrs. Armstrong. I lost my temper at the way he was talking about Jack.”
Mrs. Armstrong held herself very still for a moment and betrayed nothing, not one flicker of emotion. Rose couldn’t help but think of Jack talking about the marvel of telling his sister he loved her. Rose had grown up in despair, but her sisters had always told her they loved her. In whispers, late at night, when no one could hear except one another, but it had been something.
Distracted by her own thoughts and memories, Rose didn’t have a chance to fight off Mrs. Armstrong’s next move. It came in the shape of a warm, fierce hug, whatever perfume she wore potent and pretty. Rose almost smiled at the image of Mrs. Armstrong throwing perfume on when she donned her robe.
“How are you hugging her?” Mike demanded, jumping to his feet.
Mrs. Armstrong gave one last squeeze and then released Rose, who had barely registered Mike’s outrage. Mrs. Armstrong had hugged her twice now, and Rose couldn’t remember her own mother ever hugging her.