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“I wanna take care of you,” he tells me in a voice so soft it’s hard to imagine him being capable of killing anyone. I wonder if that's what the blood on his clothes was when he came home? It doesn’t matter, it may be strange to some, but I don’t think any less of the man I’m lying with.
“Promise me you’ll stop running away, that this is us now. No more backing out.” I sound needy and desperate, but I have to have his reassurance.
“I told you once I had you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go,” he tells me as if I’ve committed myself to a sentence. “Now, will you let me take care of you? It would really make me feel better about what I just did to you.”
“The only way I’m voluntarily moving from this bed is if you promise to take a bath with me. You left me for a whole week, and I very much missed you.”
I squeal when suddenly he shifts, standing up from the bed and scooping me in his arms.
“I never said it had to be voluntary,” he attacks my mouth with his, nipping my skin with his teeth and making me giggle. The smile drops off my face when I look down at the bed and see the red smears staining the sheets.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.” My hand slams over my mouth in horror.
“It ain’t a problem.” Screwy holds me tighter so I can't wriggle from his arms, but I can tell that it’s an issue by the look on his face. “I should have been more gentle,” he whispers to himself.
“No, it was perfect.” I force him to look at me, and when he does, he doesn't match my smile. He’s back to looking guilty again.
“Are we going to take this bath together or not?” I quickly drag him back into our blissful bubble because I’m not ready to leave it yet. I want to bathe with Cade Harrison and watch him smile some more.
Screwy spends the whole day in the cabin with me. We spent way longer than we needed to in the bath. We eat lunch and do what Screwy calls ‘making out,' then we go to his bedroom and do it there, too. It doesn’t matter how many times I ask him, he refuses to be inside me again until I’m less sore.
It’s getting dark when someone bangs on the door, Screwy insists we ignore it, but after three more hard knocks, he drags himself away from me to answer it.
“Screwy, Lydia.” Jessie looks over Screwy’s shoulder and tips his head at me. “Everything go okay in Nevada?” I may not be all that clued in around here, but I do know that Jessie will already know the answer to that question, the men that came back before Screwy would have told him that much.
“All good.” Screw nods back.
“And the other thing you took care of?” Jessie asks cryptically.
“Well taken care of.” Screwy gives nothing away, but I’m sure it has something to do with the blood that was on his clothes last night.
“Clean?” Jessie places a cigarette between his lips and lights it up.
“Yeah,” Screwy assures him.
“Cool, you heading down the club? The girls will be down there.” Jessie appears to be speaking to me now.
“We’ll show our faces.” Screwy reaches back toward me and wraps his arm around my waist to tug me closer.
When Jessie looks between us, a boyish smirk creeps onto his lips.
“I hear ya, brother. Be seeing you both later.” He leaves us, and when Screwy closes the door, he immediately turns to face me.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I want to go,” I answer quickly because I really like being around these people, and it will give me the chance to apologize to everyone for being so glum the past week. “I mean, if you want to go, that is,” I add.
“I want to go.” He nods back at me, wearing that unfamiliar smile on his face again.
I find her on the deck, staring out onto the lake. These past three weeks have been incredible. At times, the moments we’ve shared have felt like they belonged to someone else, not me. Lydia’s so engrossed watching the water that she doesn’t hear me sneaking up behind her, and she inhales a sharp breath when my hands snatch at her waist. I feel her relax when I plant a kiss on her sweet sun-kissed cheek, and I love that she smells like fucking home now.
“How did it go?” she asks, taking my arms and wrapping them right around her middle. I prop my chin on her shoulder and stare out at the water with her before I answer.
“It was good. Squealer got himself into a bar brawl, but that ain’t nothing original.”
The club has been working hard to take Pueblo. It means late nights and sore muscles, but if that’s what it takes for people to understand how things are getting run from now on, then it’s all worth it. Especially if it means we’re one step closer to finishing Raphael Verretti.
“How was your session with Grace?” Lydia’s always quiet on the days she talks to Grace. She closes herself off to me like she’s scared to share what they talk about. That stings a little, but I understand why. I brought it on myself by acting the way I did the last time she shared some of the stuff that happened to her.
