Chapter 13
“Um.” How to spin this? Rosie was such a bad liar. And the last thing she wanted to tell Cruz was that she was a big fat coward. She’d felt like shit for not telling Shane every detail of the accident, when he’d been there for her through her recovery, driving her to doctor appointments and rehab. Heck, just hanging out with her so she wasn’t bored out of her mind.
She hadn’t been honest with him, or anyone. And she knew that Cruz was the last person she wanted to be dishonest with. He’d told her a lot of his past. She didn’t deserve to be with him if she couldn’t do the same.
“It’s just, um, some sisters and brothers are close, some aren’t.” Lame, but the best she could come up with.
He cocked a brow as if he knew she wasn’t being straight with him. “You and Shane seem close.”
“We are. Always have been.” She paused, knowing she needed to expand. Maybe she could talk about Shane instead of herself.
“Shane might get mad at me for telling you this, but…” she folded her napkin into a careful square. “Well, the whole town knows. You’d probably find out anyway.” She took a breath. “Shane was in the Army. Did a tour in Iraq, then started another one…”
Cruz, bless him, just waited for her to finish.
“His team was traveling into Kirkuk. They were in two vehicles. Shane was in the second one.” She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t had to tell anyone in so long, because everyone knew…and it was hard to find the words now. The memory was there, in the back of her mind, but verbalizing it brought all her emotions zooming to the surface. A chill zipped down her spine as she made herself state the facts. “The first jeep hit an IED. All the men died. Shane and all the guys with him were thrown from their car. All had severe to critical injuries.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Cruz murmured.
“Shane came back to the states and spent a month at Walter Reed. Then he came back here to Sundown and got a job at the courthouse. Later on he started working with Denver.”
“Holy shit.” Cruz shook his head.
“He hates that he couldn’t save his team,” Rosie went on. “He had a different dog then, who was trained for explosives, but they don’t check every foot of road before they drive down it.” She unfolded her napkin. “So—he was protective before. And now more so. Especially given my own car accident. He feels like he lost his friends, and almost lost me—so he may go over the top sometimes.”
Cruz stood and walked the two steps to her chair. He took her hand and pulled her up. “Come here.”
Rosie let him tug her into his embrace. She buried her face in his warm, muscular chest and just breathed. The memory of how close she’d come to losing her only sibling tore at her, like it always did. It hadn’t come to that, thank god. But she still ached for the men who’d lost their lives, most of whom she’d met via video chats with Shane, and she knew Shane ached one hundred times more.
Cruz stroked her back. She inhaled his clean scent of soap and laundry product and felt…safe. There was no mistaking, he wanted to offer comfort. This wasn’t the heated touch they’d shared last night. “That’s a hell of a lot to deal with.”
She sighed into his pec. “It was. I’m so thankful he’s okay.”
He held her, and his hand stopped at the small of her back. “Can I ask you something?” he murmured.
“Sure,” she whispered, comforted by his strength and relieved to have gotten Shane’s story out without bawling.
“What do you mean when you say he almost lost you?”
“I…” Her heart stuttered at the totally natural question. Of course, he would ask. This was the second time she’d hinted at it. For a second, she didn’t move as a new set of horrible emotions threatened to drag her under. She pulled back and reached for his hand. “Can we go the couch?”
“Sure.”
She could tell him most of it. She couldn’t bring herself to share all. Not yet. Selfishly, she wanted more time with him before she had to be honest.
She led him to the family room and pulled him down next to her on the blue microfiber couch. An identical one sat near it at a right angle with a maplewood coffee table in the center of the sitting area.
“We don’t have to talk about it if it’ll bring up bad memories.” He caressed her hand and looked at her like she was the most special creature ever created. Despite what he’d been through, he still was able to see the good in her and not suspect any ugliness. Was he that much a miracle?
Or was she that good of a liar? That made her feel even worse. She was far from special. She was thoughtless and she was going to pay the price forever.
Cruz—sexy, strong, kind Cruz—deserved to know sooner rather than later.
“Um, well, my car accident,” she began. “It was bad.”
“You mentioned that you had a long recovery,” he said.
“Yeah.” She glanced to the wall, at a decades-old painting her grandmother had done of Little Potato Creek in the fall. Vibrant colors blazed on the trees and the water rushed in realistic surges around the rocks. The painting and the creek had been there as long as she could remember. But everything was new with Cruz. “This feels like another thing that’s weird to explain. Everyone here knows it. So once all was said and done, there was no need to bring it up again.”
“Don’t know if I’ll get used to everyone knowing my business,” he murmured.
“You still get to have some secrets.” Good ones, or awful, hateful ones—that was the question.
He stared like he could see into her soul. She wanted to run and hide as much as she wanted to drown in those slate blue eyes and hear him tell her it would be okay.
That would probably never happen. But he had the right to know what the rest of the town already did.
“It was February. Snowy, icy roads. I hit a tree. I was alone in the car.” She dropped her eyes to his inked arms. “I had a concussion, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations. And a crushed pelvis.”
“Holy shit.” He tightened his hold on her fingers.
She took a fortifying breath. “The way my pelvic bones broke, they crunched inward, for lack of a better description.” She brought her hands up showing him with curled fingers what had happened to her. “Like this.”
“God, Rosie.” He captured her hands and gently kissed them.
If her heart wasn’t breaking just by saying this, it was now. His unexpected tenderness was killing her. “Cruz. You’re being way too nice.”
“Think you need it.”
Maybe she did need it, but did she deserve it? She swallowed. “Because the sharp bone edges pushed in, they cut into my organs. I had a mess of internal bleeding. They had to operate to save my life.” She raised her eyes, wondering if he would grasp what she was saying.
He waited for her.
“They had to…” This was awkward to say to any guy, let alone a hot one she just met, who was sweet and tough and wonderful. But if she didn’t force the words out, she never would. “I had to have a complete hysterectomy right then and there. Everything was damaged.”
“Jesus Christ, Rosie, I am so sorry.” He pulled her close.
“It’s not your fault.” It’s mine. “Like I said, the whole nosy town knows. I’d rather you hear it from me.”
“Still. You were what? Twenty?”
“Twenty-one.”
“And it’s all…you’re…?”
“Everything’s out.” She dropped her gaze to a fluffy piece of lint on the carpet. “I can’t have children.” Shame and guilt tore at her, forcing tears she didn’t mean to cry.
Cruz tucked her close and held her. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry enough for both of us.
He stroked her hair. “You’re just trying to live your life, you were in college. Brother in the Army, serving the country. Both of you got dealt a shit hand. None of it is your fault.”
His compassion triggered a new wave of tears and misery. Because that’s where he was wrong. She couldn’t let him think she was just some unfortunate person who managed to soldier on through the hard times that just happened out of nowhere. Not when she was the one who had caused them.
She traced the foreign word on his arm, splashed with her tears. Sobrevivir. He’d survived a horrible thing done to him. He was stronger than she’d ever be.
“There’s something else you have to know,” she whispered, wondering if he’d get up and leave once she spilled the awful truth. “I don’t want to say it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. You deserve to know the rest.” She grabbed a Kleenex to wipe her eyes and straightened, wanting to see his face.
“Rosie, you can tell me anything. I’ll keep your secrets, even if no one else in this place will.”
Oh god. He was too wonderful. Three of the most damaging words in her life hung in her frontal lobe, pushing to get out, held back by a wave of regret. One, two, three. “I’d been drinking.”
Rosie watched Cruz’s face, desperate for his reaction to her confession. It hit her then that she’d never had to share this detail of her life since the accident had happened. Everyone in Sundown had known. This was new territory. Cruz was new territory, dangerous and tempting. But also honest, and deserving of the same from her.
But did he have any choice to hide his life? His story was splashed all over the papers and internet. Hers was her own quiet hell of regret.
Cruz cupped her face in his hands. “I know that wasn’t easy to say,” he murmured. “I know ‘cause I’ve had to admit stuff I did. To my mom, my sister, the cops. I know the feeling of thinking what you did makes you the worst person ever. But, Rosie.” He dropped his hands to hers. “You’re not a bad person. You made a mistake. You’re only human.”
“It was a really bad mistake,” she whispered.
“And one that many people make. You’re not alone.”
“I was so stupid, Cruz.” Her shoulders sagged. “I should have known better. I went from one party to another, and convinced everyone I was okay to drive.” She made air quotes around the last three words. “I sure as hell wasn’t.”
“That may be true. But you’re alive. Sobreviviste.”
She looked at him with eyes that threatened to tear up again. “I don’t know what that means but if it’s good, I’m sure I don’t deserve it.”
“It means ‘you survived’ and hell yes, you deserve to hear it.”
“You don’t think I’m a bad person?” It gnawed at her, because this detail led to the agonizing rest of her story.
“Rosie.” He tilted her chin with a finger. “I know bad people. I’ve gotten into trouble alongside them. I’ve fought against them, I’ve lived next to them. I hear what they say. I hear their voices, full of zero regret or emotion. So no.” He trailed his finger to her ear. “You are not a bad person. I don’t want to hear you thinking or saying anything like that.”
Her heart just might explode. Holy wow. “Thanks.” It sounded lame, but it was all she could manage in the face of his kindness.
“Besides, I’m the last person who should ever judge anyone.”
“You and me both.”
“And besides, you paid a steep price. You don’t need to sit around, feeling even worse.”
The price was bigger than anyone knows. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for being so sweet about this.”
“I’m glad you told me.” He sifted a lock of her hair through his fingers. “You can tell me anything. I mean it.”
“Okay.” She let out a huge sigh. Even though her darkness nagged her, she had shared as much as she could. And it felt good. “That was more of a soap opera than lunch, I guess. I didn’t mean for the conversation to turn this way.”
“And I’m glad it did. I want to know all about you.”
“Not much to know,” she shrugged.
“I bet there is.”
She laughed. “You’ve heard most if it already. Born and raised here in Sundown. Not exactly the most exciting place in the world.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Hmm.” A rush of adrenaline let-down flowed through her. She’d done it, shared almost all of her dark past. She felt emotionally exhausted. She snuggled into his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her, like they were a regular couple.
That would be nice. It was a sweet little dream. One she’d wake up from soon enough.
Cruz rubbed her shoulder. “What else do you have going on today?”
“I work the dinner shift. Sundays are kinda fun. We have the same old couples who come in for an early supper. They want to sit in the same booths, and almost always order the same thing. They’re cute.”
“Probably all knew you when you were a baby?”
“You know it. How about you?”
“Not much. A couple of the windows at my place don’t lock—figured I’d fix them. Not a huge deal if it doesn’t happen today.”
“Can’t Mrs. Anderson fix that? Or her son? She owns that place, after all.”
“I can fix them faster. Not a big deal.”
“Sounds good.” She could imagine Cruz working on his house. Or changing his oil, or any handy man thing. He’d be good at it, and look so hot doing it. She rubbed her cheek on his cotton T-shirt and breathed deeply. He smelled so good. Strong, hardened by life and yet—still sweet. The spring warmth and her full belly lulled her, and his scent slowly wore down all her anxiety. For a short while anyway, she could spend time with him. Not forever. It was way too early to think of forever. And she wasn’t that kind of girl. Forever didn’t happen to people who were selfish.
But for now, she relaxed into his strength. She could take a greedy day to feel his strong arms around her and pretend.
“Rosie,” Cruz whispered, gently shaking her narrow shoulders. She’d fallen asleep on him in the aftermath of their heart-to-heart conversation, and he’d let her snooze. Probably needed it, if she had to be on her feet for hours tonight.
He’d gone back and forth between feeling like shit for making her talk about the hard times she’d been through, and being damn glad she let him in. Every word was obviously painful for her to speak. That had been as clear as her big blue eyes that gazed at him like he was a hero.
He was so far from that it was a joke. But her words echoed back to him. Don’t argue with a country girl.
“Rosie.” He squeezed her shoulder, tempted to kiss her blond hair.
“Mmm.” Her sigh was pure contentment, with a purring edge that made him want her to fall asleep with him again. “Hmm? Oh!” She sat up straight, blinking. “Oh no. Did I fall asleep?”
“Sure did.” He showed her his phone. “It’s three o’clock. Are you okay on time?”
“Three o’clock. Yes.” She yawned, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to zonk out on you. Oh my god. This turned into like, the worst lunch date you probably ever had.”
He stretched the arm she’d been snoozing on, getting circulation back into it. “Believe it or not, I haven’t had a lot of lunch dates. So this ranks up there pretty high.”
She gave a half laugh. “I’ll take you on a better one, I promise. We’ll go have a picnic out in the country. Ever done that?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, pretending to think. “Picnic in the country? Ah…no.”
“Okay then. It’s settled.” She rubbed one eye and glanced at him. “I hope I didn’t snore.”
“Woman, you snored as loud as a Mack Truck.”
She sucked in a horrified breath, then delight flashed in her eyes as she took in his laugh. She smacked his arm. “You’re terrible!”
He chuckled. “You were pretty darn cute. No snoring. Slept like a baby.”
“Thank goodness.” She traced a circle on the fabric of the couch. “I should get ready for work.”
“Okay.” He stood and pulled her up into his arms. “Thanks for lunch, and thanks for telling me about you. And about Shane.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for listening.” They walked through the house and out onto the porch. “So…I work every day this week. You?”
“Palmer said to plan on a lot of overtime. Ten-hour days minimum.”
“That OT makes for a nice paycheck, but those are long days.” She reached up to fiddle with her wind chime, whose strings had gotten tangled.
“Can I see you again next weekend? Either day, though he may have us work Saturday morning.”
“Sure, one of those should work.” She turned back to him and smiled.
“You can pick what we do. Picnic or another Sundown special.”
“I’ll think on it.” Pretty blue eyes and pouty lips tempted him and he couldn’t come up with a reason on this earth not to kiss her. He closed the small distance between them and set his hands on her waist. Not higher or lower because god help him, he may never leave if he touched her soft curves. She skimmed her hands up his chest and linked them behind his neck as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her lips were just as soft as last night, and while the raw primal part of him wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her until she begged him to do more, the rational part of him threw down a flurry of restraint. Today had turned into more about her than he’d expected. She’d been scared to reveal what had happened, and he was a little in awe that she’d done it anyway.
It had taken courage, and he wasn’t going to let that go unrewarded.
He feathered the seam of her lips with his tongue and she parted for him with a sigh. Ah, hell. He moved one hand to settle at her lower back, spreading his fingers wide, and pressed her against him. She fit too damn perfectly nestled up to his body.
Her tongue darted into his mouth, lashing his with slow, tantalizing strokes. Her fingers ran through his hair. Blood rushed to his groin. Fuck. He could stay here all day, but that wasn’t an option.
With effort he pulled back. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened with a heated glow. “I like kissing you, Rosie-girl.” The term of endearment popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.
“I like being kissed by you, Cruz Zaffino.” She tilted her head. “Now get on outta here before I decide I want another one and you make me late for work.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He loped down the steps and turned to give her a quick wave before getting in his truck. The scent of her hair still clung to his T-shirt from where she had fallen asleep on him. Sweet and enticing. And hell, it would have to last him a whole damn week.