Peeling pieces of wallpaper scrape my palm as I feel around for the light switch. When the room illuminates, I don’t see anyone, but I do a quick check of the closet and under the bed to make sure. “All good.”
Rosanna releases her breath with a whoosh and moves to my side. “I guess he just forgot to lock the door, because everything looks like it’s supposed to. Ugh! It could have been so much worse than this.” She rubs her temples in frustration.
At least she doesn’t look like she’s going to throw up again.
“Sounds like this Silas isn’t the best of guys.” I arch a brow.
She cringes lightly. “Well... Thank you for walking me up and making sure it was safe for me to be here. And I’m so sorry again for your shirt.”
“You couldn’t help it, so please don’t feel bad about that. I’m just glad you seem to be feeling better now. Before I go, though, I need to see something.”
Bewildered, she asks, “What?”
“Hand.”
“What?” she repeats in a higher tone.
I extend my fingers and motion for hers. “Hand. In mine.”
Twisting her lips in a crooked smile, she reaches out and shakes my hand. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted a handshake?”
My own lips form a grin as our arms pump up and down. “Because I don’t. Ah-ah-ah.” I hold fast when she draws back. “Slow down. Last time I saw you, you told me you were working on something. If I roll these sleeves up, am I going to see something that shouldn’t be there?” I can’t leave without knowing for sure.
Her face falls, but then tightens with determination. “Not that you need to go rolling women’s sleeves up, but no. There’s nothing there. That was the first and only time. Believe it or not, I don’t let anyone walk over me, and he’s not going to be the first. I remember what you said last week, that I deserve more. And you’re right.”
“Good girl.” I lean down and lock our eyes together, keeping her fingers prisoner. Dilated pupils encased in a thin gray ring stare back at me as she takes a short indrawn breath at my closeness. “But show me.”
“Show you? My arms?”
In response, I anchor her palm on my shoulder, the faint aroma emanating from her shirt all but dissipated. Slowly, so slowly, I fold the soft gray material to her wrist. Then I fold it over again. And again. The tip of her tongue darts out to wet her full lips, and she sways ever so closer to me. When her forearm is bare and exposed, I inspect it with my gaze, then with a finger.
The moment I reach her elbow, Rosanna snatches her hand away and folds the sleeve back down, gesturing to her stained top. “I swear, it’s just my regular skin under there. No bruises. I... Thank you again very much for what you’ve done, but I really need to...change.” She distractedly speaks the last word, eyes flicking between my neck and my mouth.
Clearing her throat, she continues, “And to get this smell out of my nose. Do you need to go back to the shop? I’m sure you went to see Mr. Wright for a reason.”
Yes, I was there for a very particular reason, but now that reason is standing in front of me. “You’re welcome, and don’t you worry about that. All I need is to hear the lock turning behind me when I leave. Stay here until I close the door so the smell doesn’t get you.” Long, sure steps carry me to the frame, then I pivot and look at her pretty face one more time to tide me over. “You get some good rest so you can take care of you and those babies, you hear me?”
“Scout’s honor.” She raises two fingers in a vee.
I smirk. “That’s a peace sign, but close enough. I believe you.”
A tiny snort leaves her. “Oops. Bye, Mr. Shay.”
Time to nip that in the bud. “Connor, Rosanna. Call me Connor. None of this Mr. Shay stuff.”
A light blush brings the color back into her face. “Connor.”
Good fucking girl. “See you later.” Firmly closing the door behind me, I wait until I hear the lock catch before climbing down the wobbly steps and getting into my truck. It gives a throaty rumble as it cranks, disturbing a potential drug deal going down ten yards away, if the dirty looks are any indication.
Something sticking up on the passenger floorboard catches my eye. Her purse. I reach for the worn bag and pull out the pictures poking from the frayed front pocket. I’ve never seen an ultrasound picture before—not of humans, at least—and right now I can only make out two little alien blobs. Or kidney beans, if I squint hard enough. But these little blobs are going to grow into babies. Rosanna’s babies.
How foolish I was to think I could fight the pull of Shay tradition when this was clearly meant to be. I rub my thumb over the heartbeats at the bottom of the glossy paper, already feeling as protective of them as I am of their mother. She can’t stay here. I’ll simply have to take her before she gives birth. She’s not married, and the babies aren’t here yet, so there’s a glaring loophole.
Besides, I’ll take care of the three of them better than Silas ever could. This I know for a fact. He’s testing his boundaries now with marking just her arms, but a man trapped in an abusive cycle won’t stop there. No, next could be her face and, God forbid, the babies.
The babies.My fingers are already itching to build the glider for them. Maybe I’ll make them from the same wood as the bookcase, since it made such an impact on her. Yeah, I’m sure she’ll love that.
But I’ll have to be careful and do things differently than the way my dad and brother did. Taking her while she’s pregnant could be too stressful for her and the babies if I follow in their footsteps. I also can’t hold off until after they’re here, either, because that’s too long of a wait for me.
