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“Harsh for a girl who cheated her best friend the truth for seven years.”
“What?” Clifford started shifting his feet and pulling on the crossties. “What the hell, Deck. This isn’t my problem. I didn’t promise to love someone, care for them, protect them, and then shit all over them. That wasn’t me. He did this. Don’t you dare turn this around on me.” Screw his scariness and the way his jaw clenched. Screw all of this. I went to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back around.
“I didn’t tell you that fuckin’ story for the hell of it. No one knows that fuckin’ story. No one except you now. He didn’t cheat on you.” I jerked, but it only pissed him off more and tightened his grip as he repeated, “He didn’t cheat on you.”
“I saw—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you saw. Ream would never cheat on you. It’s not in his makeup.”
“Well, maybe, Deck … you think a little too highly of yourself to really know what the truth is this time.”
“Probably do, but even if we bet on that point one percent chance I’m wrong, you owe it to him. You know why? Because he gave you more than he has anyone, and after his fucked up past, that was damn hard for him to do. Now you’re going to save him because I have no doubt he needs saving right now. He should’ve crumbled down a real bad path a long time ago, but he didn’t. For some reason he came back from that shit and found you. I’m not wrong, he’d never ruin that.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Damn right I do.” His harsh voice hit me—hard. “Let’s go.”
“Now?”
“I have men in the fuckin’ desert waiting on me to get back so we can go in and kill some motherfucker who tortures innocent women and children. So, yeah. Now. Car in five minutes.”
He strode out of the barn.
Shit.
***
We made a few wrong turns trying to find the side road, but we finally turned down a road I thought I recognized. Deck drove slow as I tried to remember which driveway it was. I knew you couldn’t see the cottage from the road and that it wasn’t a real driveway, more like a grass path.
“There.” I pointed to the right and Deck turned.
My heart was pumped so fast I was afraid I’d start hyperventilating. My emotions were all jumbled like they were the little numbered balls being spun around and around in the lottery machine. I didn’t know which emotion would be picked when I saw him again. What I did know was that my nerves were freaking out and I had needles jet-setting through my legs.
Ream’s car sat in front of the cottage.
Deck stopped and shut off the engine. We sat for a minute. Nothing was said and I was thankful he gave me a few minutes to get my shit together. I really didn’t think any amount of time would help, but I appreciated it anyway.
He opened his door and it was like he cracked open a part of me because what I’d managed to hold onto all the way here was quickly decomposing.
Deck started walking up to the cottage. I got out of the car and Deck must have heard me because he paused on the steps and waited. I was a little slow because my leg nerves were in an all-out war and I was afraid of losing my balance.
Then Deck did something very unlike him. He cupped my chin and ran his thumb over the scar on my cheek. It was gentle and yet everything in his eyes read pissed off, like it was his fault my face was now flawed.
Then I thought of how Ream kissed my scars, his lips gentle as he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world—scars, diseased and coiled up inside myself so tight that I couldn’t even cry anymore.
Until he ripped me apart.
Deck’s hand fell away from my face, and he turned the knob and opened the door. The second it did, I was hit with the smell of alcohol, and I put my hand over my mouth and nose. Deck, of course, walked straight in, hesitating while he scanned the place, as if taking recon, then strode across the living room to the closed bedroom door.
Without knocking he threw it open. He stood rock still. I couldn’t see past him, but Deck’s entire body stiffened then he turned to look at me. “Make some coffee.” He walked into the room and I saw him crouch down.
I ignored his order and walked to the bedroom and what I saw destroyed all the anger and replaced it with fear. I hated Ream for what he did to me, but I still cared about him. Deck had known that.
“Ream,” I whispered in a hoarse cry.
He was lying on the floor naked and shivering, his fists bleeding and a broken bottle of rye beside him. I ran to him, falling to my knees, panic encroaching as I watched for breathing. Deck had his hand on my arm, but I didn’t even notice it as I waited for his chest to move to tell he was still alive. All sensibility disappeared as everything crashed around me; the key turned and released the tears like a waterfall of blood.
“Go make coffee, Kat.”
I looked up at him briefly, hearing his words, but not really comprehending. Coffee. He was alive if he wanted me to make coffee. The wetness slipped down my cheeks as I held Ream’s cold, lifeless hand.
“I need to get him in a hot shower. You don’t want to make coffee, go turn on the shower.”
I choked on another sob. “He’s going to make …” Oh God, I couldn’t say it.
“Yeah, he’s out cold. Dehydrated as shit. Most likely been drunk for three weeks straight. Shower, Kat.”
I nodded scrambling to my feet and running into the bathroom and turning on the water. Deck came in with Ream over his shoulder. “Take my phone and wallet out of my back pocket.”
