by Meghan March
Ro took the coward’s way out. She shoved away from Zach, disentangling herself from his arms. “I … I have to go. I need a shower.” And then she ran.
What a fucking mess, Graham thought. He wanted to punch through the wall of the clinic. With the way he was feeling, he’d probably break his goddamn hand. I’m a fucking moron, he castigated himself. The first time in his entire adult life he’d tried to tell a woman how he felt about her and he completely fucked it up. He scrubbed both hands over his face.
“Are you in love with my sister?” Erica twisted to look at Zach, and then added, “Both of you?”
Zach laughed, though it sounded forced. “You really go for the balls with every question, don’t you?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.” She stared Zach down with narrowed eyes. “Because that,” she pointed in the direction of the bathhouse, “is not normal Rowan Callahan behavior.”
“What’s your point?” Graham asked, wanting to go shoot something until he no longer felt like the world’s most pathetic asshole.
“My point is that you just verbally bitch slapped her and then alluded to the fact that you might be in love with her. That’s bad form, my friend. Bad form.” She tapped a finger against her lips and mumbled, “Especially if she feels the same way.”
“You don’t know that,” Graham said, crushing the surge of optimism at her words.
“Maybe not. But what I do know is that nothing could have stopped her from coming home after the shit hit the fan. Not 200 miles. And sure as hell not love. But if she’s in love with you—both of you—then walking away was probably one of the hardest things she’s ever done. My sister,” Erica pointed toward the bathhouse again, “fights tooth and nail for what she wants and doesn’t give up. Not unless there’s a pretty fucking compelling reason. You know, like her family waiting on her to bug out and survive the apocalypse.”
Graham’s earlier thought about Ro being backed into a corner resurfaced. Fuck. He’d really fucked up.
Ro slammed the bathhouse door shut and was relieved to find it empty. No one needed to see tears streaming down her face. The indignity might be more than she could bear. She dropped onto the bench and started to wipe the tears away, but the fabric of the bandanas against her face distracted her from the mess of roiling emotions. She grabbed one corner with her teeth and awkwardly untied the knot. She gingerly unwrapped the fabric from her left wrist. The tears that came next were a direct result of the broken and oozing skin peeling away with the cotton. Holy balls that hurt. The ropes had gouged trenches into her wrist. She bit her lip as she repeated the process with her right wrist. It was going to hurt like hell to wash them, but she couldn’t risk infection. The first aid kit in the red and white metal box attached to the wall would at least have gauze and antibiotic ointment, so she’d be able to wrap them up afterward. She might look like she’d botched a suicide attempt, but it was better than the alternative.
Ro worked quickly, washing her hair and cleaning her injuries under the warm spray. She attempted to remove the remaining jute fibers, but it was a losing proposition. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she scrubbed. Trying to distract herself, she let her mind wander. The first place it went was to the words Graham had spoken. What was she supposed to do with that? Was he telling her what she’d lost, or was he saying he still wanted her? And what about Zach? He hadn’t been moody or brooding like Graham, but had seemed to welcome her back with open arms. How was he not crazy pissed too?
Ro shut off the water and blindly reached for her towel.
“Here you go, babe,” a voice said as a towel was pressed into her grasping hand.
Ro slapped a palm over her chest, as if holding in her scream. He hadn’t thought she’d heard him come in, and he was right.
“What the hell! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you? Jesus, Zach.”
“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Just needed to clean up.” Zach tried not to stare as she rubbed herself down with efficient strokes. She wrapped the towel around her torso and tucked the corner between her breasts. Before he could enjoy her cleavage, his attention snagged on the ugly red marks ringing her wrists. He pulled her hands away from her body.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” he said, flipping her palms up and surveying the lacerations. Ro’s hands shook slightly when she answered.
“They didn’t want to take the chance that I’d run off. So they made sure I couldn’t.”
Zach thought back to the gut-wrenching minutes they’d sat in the cornfield. They’d spotted the trio turning down the dirt road, so they’d headed into the rows to try to gain a tactical advantage and flank them. He knew she'd been tied to the man in the lead, but through his binoculars he'd seen the bandanas beneath the rope and figured they would have blunted any rope burn, but they must have come after the damage had already been done. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each palm. When he looked up at Ro, her expression was teary and confused.
Her words were barely audible when she asked, “Why are you being so nice to me? Why aren’t you pissed?”
Zach knew he should’ve anticipated the question, and now he had to decide if he was going to answer her honestly or give her some bullshit reason. He looked at the dripping curls falling over her slumped shoulders. He couldn’t help but draw her into his arms, the water droplets still clinging to her skin, her hair soaking his shirt. Zach backed up to the bench and sat, pulling her down and positioning her across his lap.
Zach kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart, I’m not pissed. I’m proud of what you did.” Her brow furrowed, and Zach could almost picture a conversation bubble appearing in the vicinity of her head that said, ‘What the fuck?’
“That’s not to say I wasn’t scared shitless for you and didn’t want to spank your ass for putting yourself in danger.”
“But ...”
“We’ve all got our stories, Ro, and one thing that Graham and I have always had in common is that ours aren’t the prettiest.” Zach took a deep breath, psyching himself up to lay it all out there. “I’m from a small town in Kentucky. My old man was a mean drunk who liked to beat on my mom, and then when I got big enough to stop him, he turned on me. I guess it was more sporting, because I wasn’t afraid to fight back. No matter how hard I begged her to leave him, she wouldn’t do it. She was too damn worried about what her church friends and the neighbors would think.”
“Oh, God. Zach …” Ro’s arms snaked around him and squeezed. Zach dropped another kiss on the top of her head.
“I didn’t care that he took it out on me; it was better than having him hit Mom. The day after I graduated, she told me to get in the car, and she drove us straight to the Marine Corps recruiting office. My old man wouldn’t hear of me going to college, because that was for pussies and rich kids. He expected me to go work in the factory, just like him. But Mom wasn’t having that, and unbeknownst to me, she’d been talking to the local recruiter since I took the ASVAB in school. She must have told him enough of what was happening, because once it was clear that I was interested, he made things happen. Two days later, I was on a bus to Parris Island for boot camp. I knew the old man would hit the roof when he realized I was gone. He worked third shift, so he wouldn’t figure it out until the weekend when he went looking for a punching bag. I tried to get her to pack her bags and go to stay with my grandma, a friend, or anyone, but she wouldn’t do it. Said everything would be fine, and it was her duty to stay with her husband. I was too young and excited to be getting out of that hellhole to realize she was just paralyzed by fear.”
Zach’s gut knotted as he got to the part he hated to remember. He felt Ro tense as she asked, “What happened after you left?”
“Three days into boot camp, a chaplain showed up at the barracks to tell me that my old man shot and killed my mom, then ate the barrel of the gun himself. They were both gone.”
Ro’s horrified gasp and painfully tig
ht grip eased some of the pain that still clutched at his heart when he thought about the chaplain’s words. “Son, I’m sorry to tell you that your parents are dead ...” Zach could still see his apologetic expression as he’d relayed the grisly tale.
“I knew, I just knew that he wouldn’t take my leaving lying down. And I knew he’d blame her. I was only seventeen, and I couldn’t enlist without a parent’s consent. Hell, I can’t help but blame myself, and her, for not doing more to prevent what happened. She didn’t have to die. All she had to do was choose the life she wanted instead of being afraid to leave the lot she was dealt.” He took a deep breath and started to pack the memories away again. He lifted Ro’s chin so he could look her in the eyes. “So you see, I can’t be anything but proud that you made the hard choice and took action when it would have been easier to do nothing. You did what you had to do, and I can’t hold it against you. Hell, Ro, your guts and determination just make me love you more.”
Ro held on to Zach and struggled to keep from sobbing for the boy he’d been and everything he’d endured. Her chest ached at the regret and guilt and soul-deep pain etched on his face as he told his story. She started to form words over and over, but they all seemed inadequate. Instead, she squeezed tighter and pressed a kiss over his heart.
Zach hugged her back before disentangling her arms and studying her wrists. Sharing time was over. “We need to have Beau take a look at these. Can’t take any chances. Not with you.”
“He’s busy with my dad. I can wait.”
“That’s the other reason I came to get you. Your dad’s awake and is demanding to see his first born.”
Ro smiled and her eyes mist with tears. Again. The rollercoaster of emotions over the past two days had taken a toll. “Can I borrow some clothes?”
Outfitted, once again, in baggy sweatpants and a giant hooded sweatshirt, Ro walked hand-in-hand with Zach across the interior of the compound toward the clinic. He’d tried to carry her, but she’d argued that she was fully capable of using her own two feet. Graham was nowhere in sight, and Ro was grateful for the reprieve. She had no idea how respond to the bomb he’d dropped. He thought she was the grenade in this situation? She’d just been minding her own business when they’d shattered her preconceived notions about relationships and sex and everything. And now her sister knew that she had been with them both. Ro wouldn’t let the fear of her dad finding out change anything. When she’d first embarked on this … relationship … with Graham and Zach, she’d decided she was going to own it. She couldn’t do any less now. If there was even a relationship to own. But that didn’t change the fact that her dad was probably going to lose his ever-loving mind. So she’d just hope that his discovery would come later. Much, much later.
She tugged at Zach’s hand, pulling him toward the clinic. Her excitement to see her dad had her breaking into a jog. Ro pushed the door open and smiled widely when she saw her dad sitting propped up against a stack of pillows.
“There’s my girl,” he said, grinning broadly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, honey.”
“How are you feeling?” She surveyed the bandages that wrapped from the upper right section of his chest over his shoulder.
“Just fine. Only a few scratches. Nothing to worry about.”
Ro arched a brow. “A few scratches?” Typical Dad response. He’d label anything as ‘just a scratch’ unless it involved losing a limb.
“I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Beau interrupted. “And I’ll say the same thing to you as I did to her: you need to take it easy for a while. You just had minor, non-anesthetized surgery, and I’m gonna be pissed if you start bleeding again. The painkillers are making you feel like Superman now, but you’re going to feel it when they wear off.”
“Okay, okay.” Her dad held out his hands in a placatory gesture. “Doctor’s orders, I get it. Now come here, Ro. Your old man needs a hug.”
Ro settled herself on the left side of the bed and carefully squeezed her father’s uninjured side. “Missed you, Dad. Thanks for waiting for me.”
He rubbed a few tears off her cheek. “None of that now, honey. We’re all fine. And you know I’d wait on you as long as it took.” Ro reached up to dash the rest of the tears away, and the sleeve of the sweatshirt slid down to expose her wrist. Her dad snatched it up. “What the hell happened to you? Did they do this?” His features turned feral as he looked from Zach to Beau and then to Graham, who’d just entered the clinic.
“No, but it’s … a long story. None of them had anything to do with it,” Ro reassured him. Her dad pulled her other hand up and surveyed it.
“Jesus, Ro. What the fuck?” Graham bit out. He was across the room and kneeling at her side before Ro even realized he was moving. Before she could respond, Beau was rolling toward her on his stool and shoving Graham out of the way to inspect her injuries.
“I guess you’re up next. And let’s hope this is the last time you need first aid for a while. The antibiotic shot I gave you with your stitches should be sufficient.”
“Stitches?” Her dad was frowning at her. “What the hell did you need stitches for?”
Ro sighed. “Like I said, it’s a long story.”
“Then you’re lucky I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.”
Graham was impressed with the rather edited version of events that Ro shared with her father. She’d managed to omit the fact that she had slept with him and Zach, not that he expected her to share that particular detail, but she also glossed over the part about how she ended up leaving the ranch by herself. Graham suspected that had Rick Callahan not been doped up on painkillers, he would have noticed the holes in her story and demanded answers. It was easy to see where Ro had gotten her bulldogged determination. She and Erica had spent the remainder of the day at their father’s bedside. After they’d eaten the fried catfish Travis made for dinner, Beau had shooed them away with orders that Rick needed to rest.
Graham sat on the couch in the dark, alone with his thoughts and one of the several bottles of Jack they’d stored. One question had been plaguing him since the sun had set: where was Rowan going to sleep tonight? He’d been informed that Allison had set Erica up in the cabin that Lia was using. Graham couldn’t picture the ultra-timid woman getting along with the rough-edged country girl, but reports indicated they’d clicked nicely. It was a small cabin with two sets of bunk beds, so there was certainly room for Ro, if she chose. And that was the problem: Graham didn’t want her to choose to sleep there. He still wanted her in his bed. He’d just taken a swig of whiskey and was thinking about Erica’s words outside the clinic when the door opened on silent hinges.
Ro tried not to appear nervous as she cut behind the mess hall to head to Graham and Zach’s cabin. But her palms were sweaty and her heart raced, so she figured she probably looked just as nervous as she felt. She was going so far out on a limb, and the only assurance she had that it wouldn’t break off beneath her was Zach’s declaration. Graham was the wildcard, and she didn’t know how he’d react to her presence. The cabin was dark as she eased the door open and crept inside. It was the opposite of the move she’d made thirty-six hours before, and the irony wasn’t lost on her. She shut the door behind her and tiptoed to Graham’s bedroom. Empty. She padded across the living room and stuck her head in Zach’s room. Empty. Where the hell were they?
“Looking for someone?” Graham’s voice came out of the dark.
“Jesus, fuck, you scared me!”
“Why are you sneaking around in the dark in my cabin? Or is that just your M.O.?”
Bravado flaring to life for the first time since she’d returned, Ro asked, “Are you going to hold that over me for the rest of my life?”
Light flickered from the oil lamp on the table as Graham lit it. “You could have been killed. If we hadn’t been there ... Hell, I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Why did you come after me? You told me you couldn’t spare anyo
ne. What made you change your mind?”
“Why are in you in my cabin?” He lifted a bottle and swigged, ignoring her question.
“This conversation is going nowhere.” Frustration gripped her. The spark of optimism she’d felt on her trek to the cabin was doused. “I’ll go find somewhere else to bunk, and you won’t have to worry about where I am.” She pivoted toward the door and took two steps before she was yanked off her feet and tossed over Graham’s shoulder. She barely comprehended what was happening when she landed with a hard bounce on the mattress.
“Good Lord, you are a such a caveman. What the hell are you doing? You don’t want me here, so just let me leave.” Ro was proud that her voice didn’t break when she spoke.
“Don’t tell me what I want. Because it’s fucking clear you don’t know a goddamned thing about it.” The oil lamp on the nightstand blazed to life.
Ro scooted up the bed until she was leaning against the headboard. “Of course I don’t know what you want. You grunt more than you use actual words, and when you do say something, it’s so fucked up, I can’t even figure out how to respond. This,” she gestured between them, “is a total disaster.”
“How hard is it to understand that it gutted me to wake up to an empty spot where you were supposed to be? How hard is it to understand that you were supposed to pick me—us—and when you didn’t, it stirred up some bad shit for me?” Graham’s jaw clenched and the lines bracketing his eyes deepened.
“What are you even talking about?” Ro buried her hands in her hair and dug her nails into her scalp. “You’ve got to decode this shit for me, Conan, because I don’t read minds. I might be multi-talented, but mindreading is beyond me.”