Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(62)

My gut clenches when Winnie’s cold, lifeless face flashes in my mind. She’d been missing for over a fucking week when they found her. I almost puked when I went out to the morgue to identify her.

Frozen. Half covered with snow. Barefoot in fucking December.

She’d never walk outside barefoot that time of the year.

Grant Red Elk, chief of the tribal police, knew it. He suspected Dragon, too, but the place where she’d been found wasn’t in tribal boundaries, so Grant didn’t have the authority to even question the prick. It was a brand new drilling site set up for prospecting, just over the border in Montana, a skip and a jump from my hometown, Kinsleyville.

By the time the Bureau of Indian Affairs got approval to call in help from the Feds, the entire crew of the rig was swapped out. Gone like they never existed.

Winnie became one more name on the endless list of Native American girls missing. And even if her body turned up in the end, everybody knew her crime would never be solved.

I’d sworn that wouldn’t be the case.

Then another hell struck. Another frozen body.

Hellfire burns my throat. Even when I fight the memory, my ears start to itch like they’re infested with spiders. Grabbing my sunglasses off the dash, I put them on, hiding the shit I refuse to call tears trying to bleed out of me.

Crying won’t do no good. It can’t bring anybody back, so I don’t bother.

But I can’t hide the anguish, the rage, or the truth.

I fucked up. Twice. Fucked up bad.

Every life I should’ve saved, I didn’t. I thought I’d known better. Thought the worst I’d face in civilian life wouldn’t be a fraction as tough as Kurdistan and Iraq and Kandahar.

I’d told Angie that taking care of our old man couldn’t be that hard.

So what if he was losing it? He was a grown man, and she was just being selfish.

She’d said I didn’t have a clue what it took to take care of him. Not really. That she’d been doing it the entire time I’d been in the service, and he couldn’t be left alone, not even for a little bit.

She worked at the hospital, too. One more reason I wish I’d listened.

Ang was right.

But I didn’t believe her. I’d been so focused on finding Winnie’s killer, I killed him.

Our father died because of me.

I see Bella looking over at me, her green eyes big, beading with concern. She’s not wrong to wonder what’s up, watching me secretly beating myself to a pulp in front of her.

Because every time the truth hits, it comes in like a screaming hellfire missile. So do the questions I never want to ask.

Even if I give it my everything, even if I throw my body, my mind, my everything between her and harm’s way, there’s no guarantee it’ll be good enough.

Do I even have it in me? Can I keep it the fuck together long enough and save this sweet, bright-eyed girl?





11





Family Business (Bella)





I close the door to the dishwasher and hit the start button with a sigh.

It’s been about a week, but it feels like three whole months.

Another meal by myself. It doesn’t matter how early I get up in the morning, Drake has already eaten and he’s off doing something.

Yesterday, it was a brand new gutter on the backside of the pole shed. The day before, it was perfect weather to fix a few shingles on the barn. Before that, it was the shutters on the second floor of the house, and then the snarled tree branches hanging over the garage attached to the house.

Tomorrow it’ll be a week since we’d eaten at the diner and faced Mom head-on. A week since we’d kissed like we just survived a nuclear blast in his truck.

Regret churns the oatmeal I’d eaten a short time ago. I’m almost nauseous.

Drake has found something to do every day ever since. Outside. High in the air. Wherever it’s not safe for me to help.

I’m not clueless. He’s found all of these things on purpose.

And I think I know why.

He’s avoiding me because of the stupid, stupid game I’d played, trying to convince my parents there was more between me and Drake. He’d gone along with it then, in public, but privately, he’s made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

It started right after we left town that day. He’d grown quiet, this dark shadow slipping over his face. Probably because he realized full well how foolish he’d been.

By the time we’d arrived home, it was like he’d closed down.

I hadn’t noticed it at first. Well, I had noticed how solemn he’d become on the way home, but I thought he’d come around.

Nope.

I swear, he’s only said a grand total of about fifty words a day to me since then, and they’re always about what he’ll be doing outside, and how he’s 'fine' handling it himself.

It’s worse than living with my mother, this...whatever it is.

It’s walking on eggshells day in and day out. She’d clam up when something hadn’t gone her way, and both my father and I would pay the price.

Just like I am now. But I don’t even know what I’ve done to Drake, or why he’s turned into a human cactus.

My phone goes off, and I push off the counter, walking to the table where I’d left it.