by Sharon Kay
“Went for a run. Changed the oil in my truck.” He sat back in his chair. “Had a surprise visitor.”
“Really? Who was it?” She crunched her chip.
“Your brother.”
“What?” She coughed and grabbed a sip of lemonade. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh my god.” She covered her mouth and coughed again. “What happened? He just …showed up?”
“Pretty much. He came in his patrol car along with one of the biggest dogs I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, that’s Denver,” she said. “His partner.”
“I gathered that, from the K9 painted on the side of the car,” Cruz said wryly. “You didn’t mention he has a killer German shepherd.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to not say it.” She scrunched her nose. “They’ve been working together so long, like any other police partners. I forget to specify Shane’s partner has four legs instead of two.”
“It turned out fine. I’m here in one piece.”
Rosie scanned his arms and chest. “Wait. What did he do?”
“The dog?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean? He just sat there.” Cruz frowned. “Was he supposed to bark or something?”
“He sat?” Rosie repeated, wide eyed.
“Uh…” Cruz thought back. “Yep. He sat down on the driveway.”
“Oh my god. Cruz! That’s great news!”
Cruz took in her jubilant expression with confusion. “It is?”
“Yes!” She leaned forward. “That dog has an uncanny sense of threats. And if he thought you were a threat in any way? He never, ever would have sat down. He would have remained standing, eyes on you, the whole time.”
“Really. Shit.”
“He wouldn’t have attacked, mind you, not without Shane giving a command, but he would have been ready to.”
“Glad you’re telling me this now, after the fact.” Cruz rubbed the back of his neck. Not sure how he would have reacted to a canine cop who made it clear he didn’t trust him. The human ones were bad enough.
“This is so great. Oh my gosh. I’m gonna save red meat scraps from the Grille for him for a week.” She sat back in her chair. “And believe me—that fact was not lost on Shane.” She nodded smugly. “Smartest dog ever.”
“Glad I got the dog’s approval,” he said. “Not sure about your brother’s.”
She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them. “I can’t believe he came to your house. What did he say?”
“He started off by showing me a picture on his phone, that Charmaine texted him. It was us at the fair. She said she wanted him to know who you were hanging around with.”
“Oh my god. This nosiness has got to stop.”
“Are she and Shane close?”
“No. He knows what a snoop she is.” She shook her head. “Normally I bet he wouldn’t care. But she knows anything about me would get under his skin.”
Cruz studied her, debating how much of the conversation to share. Would she be mad at her brother for coming over, or for saying she was too trusting? The last thing he wanted to do was create friction between her and anyone.
“What else did he say?” she asked.
“He said he doesn’t want anything to happen to you, and I told him neither do I.”
A tiny smile tilted her lips. “He’s so over protective. Anything else?”
“He thanked me for being there for you after work the other week.”
“Well, that’s good. At least he remembered some manners. I bet he drove up, all business like, all, ‘I’m Shane Marlow.’”
“Pretty much.”
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t sound like a good way to start the day.”
He chuckled. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. Of course you have. That was dumb.”
“No, it wasn’t. And you know what, I get where he’s coming from. I feel that way about my sister.”
“You’re not living in her town, though.”
“No.” He looked outside to a flock of sparrows flitting from one tree to another. “She did fine without me for ten damn years. She told me she loves me, but I don’t have to hover.”
Rosie laughed. “An honest sister.”
“Do they come any other way?” he grinned.
Her smile morphed from genuine to strained in a heartbeat. “Um…nope,” she said in the flattest tone he’d ever heard her use.
He studied her, and it was like watching her sunny nature deflate. He waited a beat before pushing to see what the hell had just shifted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I may not have known you long but I can tell that’s not the case,” he said gently.
Chapter 13
“Um.” How to spin this? Rosie was such a bad liar. And the last thing she wanted to tell Cruz was that she was a big fat coward. She’d felt like shit for not telling Shane every detail of the accident, when he’d been there for her through her recovery, driving her to doctor appointments and rehab. Heck, just hanging out with her so she wasn’t bored out of her mind.
She hadn’t been honest with him, or anyone. And she knew that Cruz was the last person she wanted to be dishonest with. He’d told her a lot of his past. She didn’t deserve to be with him if she couldn’t do the same.
“It’s just, um, some sisters and brothers are close, some aren’t.” Lame, but the best she could come up with.
He cocked a brow as if he knew she wasn’t being straight with him. “You and Shane seem close.”
“We are. Always have been.” She paused, knowing she needed to expand. Maybe she could talk about Shane instead of herself.
“Shane might get mad at me for telling you this, but…” she folded her napkin into a careful square. “Well, the whole town knows. You’d probably find out anyway.” She took a breath. “Shane was in the Army. Did a tour in Iraq, then started another one…”
Cruz, bless him, just waited for her to finish.
“His team was traveling into Kirkuk. They were in two vehicles. Shane was in the second one.” She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t had to tell anyone in so long, because everyone knew…and it was hard to find the words now. The memory was there, in the back of her mind, but verbalizing it brought all her emotions zooming to the surface. A chill zipped down her spine as she made herself state the facts. “The first jeep hit an IED. All the men died. Shane and all the guys with him were thrown from their car. All had severe to critical injuries.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Cruz murmured.
“Shane came back to the states and spent a month at Walter Reed. Then he came back here to Sundown and got a job at the courthouse. Later on he started working with Denver.”
“Holy shit.” Cruz shook his head.
“He hates that he couldn’t save his team,” Rosie went on. “He had a different dog then, who was trained for explosives, but they don’t check every foot of road before they drive down it.” She unfolded her napkin. “So—he was protective before. And now more so. Especially given my own car accident. He feels like he lost his friends, and almost lost me—so he may go over the top sometimes.”
Cruz stood and walked the two steps to her chair. He took her hand and pulled her up. “Come here.”
Rosie let him tug her into his embrace. She buried her face in his warm, muscular chest and just breathed. The memory of how close she’d come to losing her only sibling tore at her, like it always did. It hadn’t come to that, thank god. But she still ached for the men who’d lost their lives, most of whom she’d met via video chats with Shane, and she knew Shane ached one hundred times more.
Cruz stroked her back. She inhaled his clean scent of soap and laundry product and felt…safe. There was no mis
taking, he wanted to offer comfort. This wasn’t the heated touch they’d shared last night. “That’s a hell of a lot to deal with.”
She sighed into his pec. “It was. I’m so thankful he’s okay.”
He held her, and his hand stopped at the small of her back. “Can I ask you something?” he murmured.
“Sure,” she whispered, comforted by his strength and relieved to have gotten Shane’s story out without bawling.
“What do you mean when you say he almost lost you?”
“I…” Her heart stuttered at the totally natural question. Of course, he would ask. This was the second time she’d hinted at it. For a second, she didn’t move as a new set of horrible emotions threatened to drag her under. She pulled back and reached for his hand. “Can we go the couch?”
“Sure.”
She could tell him most of it. She couldn’t bring herself to share all. Not yet. Selfishly, she wanted more time with him before she had to be honest.
She led him to the family room and pulled him down next to her on the blue microfiber couch. An identical one sat near it at a right angle with a maplewood coffee table in the center of the sitting area.
“We don’t have to talk about it if it’ll bring up bad memories.” He caressed her hand and looked at her like she was the most special creature ever created. Despite what he’d been through, he still was able to see the good in her and not suspect any ugliness. Was he that much a miracle?
Or was she that good of a liar? That made her feel even worse. She was far from special. She was thoughtless and she was going to pay the price forever.
Cruz—sexy, strong, kind Cruz—deserved to know sooner rather than later.
“Um, well, my car accident,” she began. “It was bad.”
“You mentioned that you had a long recovery,” he said.
“Yeah.” She glanced to the wall, at a decades-old painting her grandmother had done of Little Potato Creek in the fall. Vibrant colors blazed on the trees and the water rushed in realistic surges around the rocks. The painting and the creek had been there as long as she could remember. But everything was new with Cruz. “This feels like another thing that’s weird to explain. Everyone here knows it. So once all was said and done, there was no need to bring it up again.”
“Don’t know if I’ll get used to everyone knowing my business,” he murmured.
“You still get to have some secrets.” Good ones, or awful, hateful ones—that was the question.
He stared like he could see into her soul. She wanted to run and hide as much as she wanted to drown in those slate blue eyes and hear him tell her it would be okay.
That would probably never happen. But he had the right to know what the rest of the town already did.
“It was February. Snowy, icy roads. I hit a tree. I was alone in the car.” She dropped her eyes to his inked arms. “I had a concussion, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations. And a crushed pelvis.”
“Holy shit.” He tightened his hold on her fingers.
She took a fortifying breath. “The way my pelvic bones broke, they crunched inward, for lack of a better description.” She brought her hands up showing him with curled fingers what had happened to her. “Like this.”
“God, Rosie.” He captured her hands and gently kissed them.
If her heart wasn’t breaking just by saying this, it was now. His unexpected tenderness was killing her. “Cruz. You’re being way too nice.”
“Think you need it.”
Maybe she did need it, but did she deserve it? She swallowed. “Because the sharp bone edges pushed in, they cut into my organs. I had a mess of internal bleeding. They had to operate to save my life.” She raised her eyes, wondering if he would grasp what she was saying.
He waited for her.
“They had to…” This was awkward to say to any guy, let alone a hot one she just met, who was sweet and tough and wonderful. But if she didn’t force the words out, she never would. “I had to have a complete hysterectomy right then and there. Everything was damaged.”
“Jesus Christ, Rosie, I am so sorry.” He pulled her close.
“It’s not your fault.” It’s mine. “Like I said, the whole nosy town knows. I’d rather you hear it from me.”
“Still. You were what? Twenty?”
“Twenty-one.”
“And it’s all…you’re…?”
“Everything’s out.” She dropped her gaze to a fluffy piece of lint on the carpet. “I can’t have children.” Shame and guilt tore at her, forcing tears she didn’t mean to cry.
Cruz tucked her close and held her. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry enough for both of us.
He stroked her hair. “You’re just trying to live your life, you were in college. Brother in the Army, serving the country. Both of you got dealt a shit hand. None of it is your fault.”
His compassion triggered a new wave of tears and misery. Because that’s where he was wrong. She couldn’t let him think she was just some unfortunate person who managed to soldier on through the hard times that just happened out of nowhere. Not when she was the one who had caused them.
She traced the foreign word on his arm, splashed with her tears. Sobrevivir. He’d survived a horrible thing done to him. He was stronger than she’d ever be.
“There’s something else you have to know,” she whispered, wondering if he’d get up and leave once she spilled the awful truth. “I don’t want to say it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. You deserve to know the rest.” She grabbed a Kleenex to wipe her eyes and straightened, wanting to see his face.
“Rosie, you can tell me anything. I’ll keep your secrets, even if no one else in this place will.”
Oh god. He was too wonderful. Three of the most damaging words in her life hung in her frontal lobe, pushing to get out, held back by a wave of regret. One, two, three. “I’d been drinking.”
Rosie watched Cruz’s face, desperate for his reaction to her confession. It hit her then that she’d never had to share this detail of her life since the accident had happened. Everyone in Sundown had known. This was new territory. Cruz was new territory, dangerous and tempting. But also honest, and deserving of the same from her.
But did he have any choice to hide his life? His story was splashed all over the papers and internet. Hers was her own quiet hell of regret.
Cruz cupped her face in his hands. “I know that wasn’t easy to say,” he murmured. “I know ‘cause I’ve had to admit stuff I did. To my mom, my sister, the cops. I know the feeling of thinking what you did makes you the worst person ever. But, Rosie.” He dropped his hands to hers. “You’re not a bad person. You made a mistake. You’re only human.”
“It was a really bad mistake,” she whispered.
“And one that many people make. You’re not alone.”
“I was so stupid, Cruz.” Her shoulders sagged. “I should have known better. I went from one party to another, and convinced everyone I was okay to drive.” She made air quotes around the last three words. “I sure as hell wasn’t.”
“That may be true. But you’re alive. Sobreviviste.”
She looked at him with eyes that threatened to tear up again. “I don’t know what that means but if it’s good, I’m sure I don’t deserve it.”
“It means ‘you survived’ and hell yes, you deserve to hear it.”
“You don’t think I’m a bad person?” It gnawed at her, because this detail led to the agonizing rest of her story.
“Rosie.” He tilted her chin with a finger. “I know bad people. I’ve gotten into trouble alongside them. I’ve fought against them, I’ve lived next to them. I hear what they say. I hear their voices, full of zero regret or emotion. So no.” He trailed his finger to her ear. “You are not a bad person. I don’t want to hear you thinking or
saying anything like that.”
Her heart just might explode. Holy wow. “Thanks.” It sounded lame, but it was all she could manage in the face of his kindness.
“Besides, I’m the last person who should ever judge anyone.”
“You and me both.”
“And besides, you paid a steep price. You don’t need to sit around, feeling even worse.”
The price was bigger than anyone knows. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for being so sweet about this.”
“I’m glad you told me.” He sifted a lock of her hair through his fingers. “You can tell me anything. I mean it.”
“Okay.” She let out a huge sigh. Even though her darkness nagged her, she had shared as much as she could. And it felt good. “That was more of a soap opera than lunch, I guess. I didn’t mean for the conversation to turn this way.”
“And I’m glad it did. I want to know all about you.”
“Not much to know,” she shrugged.
“I bet there is.”
She laughed. “You’ve heard most if it already. Born and raised here in Sundown. Not exactly the most exciting place in the world.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Hmm.” A rush of adrenaline let-down flowed through her. She’d done it, shared almost all of her dark past. She felt emotionally exhausted. She snuggled into his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her, like they were a regular couple.
That would be nice. It was a sweet little dream. One she’d wake up from soon enough.
Cruz rubbed her shoulder. “What else do you have going on today?”
“I work the dinner shift. Sundays are kinda fun. We have the same old couples who come in for an early supper. They want to sit in the same booths, and almost always order the same thing. They’re cute.”
“Probably all knew you when you were a baby?”
“You know it. How about you?”
“Not much. A couple of the windows at my place don’t lock—figured I’d fix them. Not a huge deal if it doesn’t happen today.”
“Can’t Mrs. Anderson fix that? Or her son? She owns that place, after all.”
“I can fix them faster. Not a big deal.”