by Zoey Parker
“Are they okay?”
“They’re perfect.” He stuck another bite in his mouth, tempted to just tilt the bowl and dump it all in his mouth.
“Really? Not too dry or anything?”
“No. They’re perfect. Really.”
She smiled and seemed to relax. Then he realized what she was doing. She was waiting for him to say something was wrong. Her whole body had been tensed and waiting for it. And when he said they were good, and convinced her of it, she let go of the tension. Let go of the readiness for a fight. Man, what had the last guy done to her? Probably was one of those meatheads who liked to punch her every time she messed up dinner. Maybe that was even why she was such a good cook. Maybe it was a survival skill. Sickening. If the food weren’t so good, he might have been unable to eat.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I think you’re a wonderful cook and an awesome mom. You’ll make a really great wife for someone one day.”
She pulled her eyebrows together for a moment. “Thanks…” She didn’t even believe it. Sad.
“There are good guys out there,” he said. “You might have to really search, but they’re there.”
“Oh yeah? And I suppose you’re one of the good guys?” She pulled her mouth into a half smile.
Say yes, say yes. Oh, how he wanted to convince her. She would believe him, too. He’d been a total gentleman the whole time he’d been here. Charm level ten. But this wasn’t the real him. This was him when no one was around to see his weakness. This was him with nothing to fight back against. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was back on the battleground. Abram’s club and life in general—everything was a fight for him.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m one of the ones you should avoid.” He gave her a sad smile. He’d never wanted to become a good guy so badly. But she deserved someone who didn’t have to force it. Who was naturally good. And that wasn’t him one bit.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I was starting to think you were the rare exception.”
“The exception?”
“You know, they’re like unicorns. The mythical beast that is the bad boy with a heart of gold. The one who defends his woman, then comes home and treats her sweetly and gently.”
“Oh, that.” Were any of the “bad boy” types as she called him actually like that? None of the guys in his club were, even if they tried to be. Some were nice enough to their girls, but the things they did and said when they weren’t around…it wouldn’t seem so nice to any of them. “Maybe that guy is off riding a unicorn instead of a motorcycle.”
She broke into laughter. Her whole face lit up and shone as her eyes glittered. He wanted to make her laugh like that forever.
“Maybe.”
“Was that it, then?” he asked. “Your ex was a bad boy type?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“And he, what, used to hit you? Yelled at you if you didn’t cook something exactly he wanted?”
Becca stared at him, her jaw hanging open.
“Is he talking about Daddy?”
Becca whipped around at the sound of Emma’s voice. Rowan hadn’t known she was there either, but she’d been standing just outside the door, listening. Now she peered around the edge, clutching a purple bunny to her chest.
“No, honey,” Becca said, and ushered the girl away.
Even the kid knew about it. Must have seen her dad hit her mom and yell at her. Maybe he even hit her. Bastard. Who was this guy? If he were anywhere near the area, he’d hunt him down and shoot him. No kid should have to witness that.
A little while later, Becca came back in. The TV was playing now, so apparently Emma was occupied. Still, Becca closed the door behind her and stood closer to him to talk. “How did you know?” she asked.
“You didn’t exactly hide it. When you made the shake, you said you knew about getting beat, and I saw the way you tensed when you asked about the eggs.”
She let out a sigh and seemed to deflate. “Is it that obvious? I’m just a walking victim.”
“What? No way. You’re here, aren’t you? You got away.”
“Barely.”
“Where is he? He nearby?”
“No. He doesn’t know where we are, and hopefully it’ll stay that way.”
“Becca.” He waited for her to look back up at him. “You’re strong for getting out. A lot of women can’t.”
Tears formed in her eyes and he wanted to reach over and wipe them away and pull her close. But he just kept looking at her, insisting on his point with his gaze.
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I guess we have that in common. I watched my mama get hit by my dad for years.”
Her face softened into sympathy. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. That’s what made me leave. When Emma saw too much and then he…he—”
“He didn’t hit her, did he?”
She sniffed and let out a sob, nodding as she wiped her eyes. “Twice. After the first time, he swore it wouldn’t happen again, but you know how that goes. After the second time, we snuck out in the middle of the night and never went back.”
“How long ago?”
“A few months.”
“Oh wow. So it’s all still pretty new. I’m sorry he did that.” His fist tightened unconsciously. “I can’t stand guys like that. I’d beat every one of them if I could.”
She blinked at him, then shook her head. “So, more violence is the answer? He beats me, so you beat him? How will that solve anything?”
He nearly growled his answer, the outrage was so strong. He pictured his father’s face, saw him punch his mama in the eye, and could have torn a hole in the bed cover. “Because then he’d know what it feels like before he dies.”
Her eyes grew wide for an instant, then settled. No, no, no. Crap. He’d scared her.
“I’m sorry.” He made his voice softer and his face relaxed. “I watched it happen for so long that it really gets me mad. You’re right, though. More violence doesn’t solve anything. I guess since I grew up seeing my dad use his fists all the time, I tend to lean toward that, you know? Guess I never stood a chance at being a good guy who didn’t rely on working out problems in a physical way.”
“How many of your girlfriends have you hit or slapped or yelled at?”
He understood why she asked. It was natural for her to think that after what he’d just said, and when you just looked at the basic stats. How many times had his mama said, “Your daddy was a beater because his daddy was and his daddy was.” She’d told him again and again he better not turn out like that. That was why when he joined a motorcycle club, she’d stopped talking to him. Assumed it meant he’d be just like his daddy.
In some ways he was, he supposed. He did use his fists when he was mad. He broke things, he punched walls, and when necessary, he punched people. But one thing he’d never done, no matter how mad he got or how far he pushed, was hit a woman. The fact that she asked, that she thought he was like that, made him both roil with rage and want to cry. He’d never convince her he was any good. And that was why he had to leave. That was why she needed to find someone else. He wasn’t good. And he sure wasn’t good enough for her.
“I’ve hit a lot of people, Becca. Broken a lot of things in anger, made a lot of holes in walls. But one thing I’ve never done, one thing I would rather kill myself than do, is raise a hand to a woman. I know you’d expect me to be like my dad. And maybe since my mama left, it gave me a perspective my daddy didn’t have. But I saw what she went through. Saw how she struggled and suffered and what it did to her. And I vowed when I was just thirteen I would never be someone who’d make a woman cry and hurt like that.”
She stared at him for a long minute. She pulled her lip into her mouth and chewed at it. Then, she simply said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” He chuckled.
“I believe you.”
Later that morning, he needed to use the bathroom. This was time t
o test himself. Could he get there alone?
He shoved the covers back and turned. With his feet on the floor, he pushed up from the bed, slowly this time. He stood there for a moment, ready to fall back on the bed if he got dizzy. He was a little lightheaded, but the feeling passed in a few seconds. He took a step.
His ribs ached. Probably a few were broken, they hurt that badly. His back stung now that he was moving and every muscle screamed at him. But he made it to the door. When he stepped into the hallway, Becca exclaimed and ran to him.
“Why didn’t you call me to come help you?”
“That’s why. You would have come to help me and I wanted to see if I could do it on my own.”
“Oh.” She stood back, watching him.
How he wanted her to come to him so he could put his arm on her shoulders. To have her that close. If he stumbled at just the right moment…No, he wouldn’t do that. He needed to be strong now. He’d been weak enough. And he’d been weak in front of her enough.
He opened the door to the bathroom and went in. She didn’t follow, and he closed the door. Just as well. He had to do more than pee, and he couldn’t take a crap if she was in there making sure he was okay.
After he did his business and checked to make sure there was no blood—she had known something about the possibility of internal bleeding—he went back to the bedroom. She came in as he was settling back in the bed.
“Everything okay?”
“Yup. I’ll be back to myself in no time.”
“Good.”
He almost asked her then for her phone. He would call one of his boys to pick him up. He had no shoes, was wearing her clothes, and didn’t have his bike or car or cash to call a cab. They’d be glad to hear from him. Probably thought he was dead. But when he thought of leaving, his chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with his ribs.
Instead, he just smiled and said, “It must be because I’ve had such good care.”
She blushed and the color made her even more beautiful. Yeah, he’d just stay here as long as he could. Enjoy every moment of her before she was gone like a figment, left as only a memory in his mind.
At dinnertime, Becca brought him a plate of pasta with a creamy red sauce and garlic bread. Emma bounced in behind her, carrying a glass of soda.
“Here you go, Rowan,” she said proudly, and set the glass beside him. “I didn’t pour it, though. Mommy has to do that.”
“Well, thank you for bringing it in. You didn’t even spill it or anything.” He gave her a wide smile and she smiled back. God, even the kid was adorable. He’d never thought he was a kid guy. But after playing with Emma and seeing how she was around the house, he was changing his mind. She was pretty chill most of the time, except for bath time. She hadn’t been a fan of that, but still. He’d thought kids were a lot more work. But he could hang with Emma. He wouldn’t mind having a kid like that.
Becca handed him the plate, setting a towel on his lap so it wouldn’t be too hot. She always thought of everything.
“This smells good,” he said.
“I hope it tastes as good.”
He quickly took a bite so he could tell her how much he liked it. “Perfection.” He took another bite as she rolled her eyes.
“Hardly.”
“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone cooked for me? I’ve been stuck on microwave dinners for years. This is like heaven to my taste buds.”
“Well, I guess compared to nasty microwave meals, I do okay.” She chuckled.
“You do much better than okay.”
Emma was tugging on Becca’s shirt. “What, honey?”
“Are you going to stay home from work again tomorrow so I can play with Rowan?”
“Oh…I don’t know.” She looked at him, seeming to consider whether he’d be able to leave or not.
She’d missed work today to take care of him? Great. Now he owed her a day’s wages, too. He was already causing her too much trouble. First his bled all over the place, then he was eating all her food, and now she was missing work because of him? No, he had to leave tonight. Much as he wanted to stay for days.
“Actually,” he said, setting his fork down. “I was going to ask to use your phone after dinner. I said I’d get out of your way as soon as I could walk on my own, mostly because I didn’t want to fall down the stairs of your building, and now I can walk. So I’ll have someone pick me up.”
“Oh, well, I can drive you somewhere, that’s not a problem. I could even take you on my way to work in the morning if you’d rather stay tonight.”
Oh sure, in that case. Stay the night. He wanted to keep her up all night making her moan. “Thanks, but I better not. And it’s fine. You have Emma. I can get a ride. It’s not a problem.”
When he’d finished eating and she came to take his plate, she left her phone. He called his boy, Nate. He didn’t answer. Probably because he didn’t know the number.
“Call me back at this number.” He hung up and waited. The phone rang in his hand a minute later.
“Row! Man, we thought you were dead. Where are you, where have you been?” It sounded loud behind him and Rowan guessed he was at the bar. That was usually where they were Thursday nights.
“I’ve been recuperating. I need you to come get me.”
“Sure thing, man. Where you at?”
He gave him the address. “You leaving now?”
“Yup. See you in a few.”
Rowan got to his feet, feeling a weight in his chest at knowing in just a few minutes he’d be walking out the door. He walked carefully to the living room, where Becca sat, brushing Emma’s hair. She hopped up when she saw him and took the phone when he held it out.
“My boy is coming to get me. He’ll be here soon.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood there holding the phone awkwardly.
“Do you think you could come down the stairs with me? I’d like to get down there before he gets here, and I want to talk to you for a second.”
“Sure.” She turned to Emma. “I’m going to help Rowan downstairs, okay? Stay here, and if you need me, just call down from the top of the stairs, okay?”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the TV. Becca unlocked the deadbolt and the door knob and held the door open for him.
He walked out and took hold of the railing. She stood beside him, watching. He moved slowly, letting one foot drop down, then the other. It was much easier going down than it had been when he came up two days ago.
They made it to the bottom without incident and she stood in front of him as he leaned against the door, standing near the window to see when Nate pulled up.
“I’ll get your clothes and towel and stuff back to you this week.” He still wore her makeshift bandage on his back. “And don’t worry, I’ll take care of the damage I did to your car and everything else. Might take me a few weeks, but I’m good for it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do all that. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sure the blood stained.”
She looked in the direction of her car. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I will make it up to you, okay?”
She nodded at him and gave a thin smile.
“Give me your number so I can call and set up a time to drop this stuff off.”
She patted her jeans. “I don’t have a pen or anything.”
“It’s okay. I’ll memorize it.”
She gave him the number and he repeated it back. Nate would have it in his phone if he forgot.
“I’m so glad you drove down that highway when you did. It seems weak to only say thank you after all you did, but thank you. You saved my life.”
“I’m glad I was there, too. I never knew I could be such a hero.” She chuckled.
“You are. My angel hero.”
Her cheeks blushed again and she looked down. Nate’s car pulled into the parking lot and Rowan waved at him through the window.
His stomach tightened as he said, “My
ride is here.”
She nodded. “Take care of yourself.”
He looked into her eyes. Her eyes that looked almost as sad as he felt to be parting. There was a longing there. He hoped he wasn’t imagining it. Could she really want him like he wanted her? One way to find out.
He stepped closer to her and hugged her. She squeezed back gently. Then he pulled back just enough. His face was so close to hers, inches separated their mouths. He leaned in partway and paused. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to him. Yes. He closed in the distance and let his lips touch hers.