“You denying us.”
“Ream. There is no us. And I’m seeing—”
He cut me off. “Babe, there’s been an us since the moment I saw you from the stage and wanted to fuck you. You need us being friends first? I can do that. But I’m making you mine again.”
My voice rose. “Yours? Are you insane? You can’t just make someone yours. Jesus, Ream, what the hell has gotten into you?”
“You.”
“What?” Shit, was my voice cracking? It never cracked, but my heart pounded so hard and my insides were freaking out and in a war of melting mush and red-hot poker fury. I’d preferred it when he was shooting insults at me and losing his cool. This … this threw me off balance and he damn well knew it.
“You’re in me and that isn’t leaving. I’ve fought it long enough, and I’m not doing it anymore. I told you something I’ve never told anyone, but you needed to hear it to understand why I freaked when I did. Now, there is nothing stopping us.” Any mild amusement left his expression as he continued, “I fucked up. I won’t do it again. You need help … I’ll be there for you. I won’t run, Kat.”
I stared up at him and even though every single blood vessel pumped “yes, yes, yes,” I couldn’t. He may have explained the freaking out over the needle, but it didn’t make me trust him. I tried to live my life without stress, and Ream meant high-velocity tension.
“And what happens when I get rushed to the hospital like your sister had been, Ream? Are you going to freak again?”
“It won’t happen.” He ran his finger across my still pulsating lips.
I shoved his hand aside. “No, it won’t. Because I’m seeing someone else.”
He froze and it was such a scary look on his face that I nearly ran. I could feel the pulsating rage pumping through him. His jaw clenched and the lines between his brows were deep and scary. “Get rid of him.”
“Are you freakin’ insane?” Yeah, he was. I knew that already. We fought like we both were insane. “Seriously. You’ve been gone for eight months. Now I’ve met someone nice who treats me well. I’m not dumping him, and you have no right to tell me to do that.”
Suddenly, everything changed in him like a switch was flicked, and he grinned. “We’ll see.”
Before I could find some sort of intellectual reply, he turned and walked back to the house.
Fuck.
***
Her gentle voice whispered to me, “Are we staying here, Ream?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he’ll feed us?”
I closed my eyes remembering the scraps we ate. Like a dog, I’d scrounge through bins to try and find us something to fill our stomachs. Mom never cared. All she cared about were the drugs.
“Yeah, Angel. I think so.”
“You won’t leave me.”
“No. I’ll never leave you.”
I’d do whatever it took to protect her.
Hank was in the barn when I finally went inside after managing to tear my gaze away from Ream striding back to the house. He looked up, a flake of hay in his hand. He’d heard. It was written all over his face with his accentuated wrinkles pulled down on his forehead and his subtle hazel eyes filled with concern. Hank had come with the purchase of the farm and was a godsend. He cared for the horses with a gentle touch and soft words, exactly what the abused horses needed. He tossed the flake into Gym’s stall then came and put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. Hank rarely said much, but that one gesture was all he needed to convey his support.
We took Clifford out and treated the deep lacerations around his fetlocks. He’d been left hobbled in a barren field starving for months. The big Appaloosa was a character, constantly undoing gate latches and escaping any place you put him. No doubt that was why the previous owner decided to hobble him instead of simply making a latch he couldn’t open.
Clifford was the sweetest horse we’d ever had on the farm, and I’d decided the moment he arrived, starved and bleeding, that he was mine. He was one of the few that endured his ordeal without a broken spirit. He remained good-natured and trusting without a mean bone in his massive body. He had come with the name Axe, but I immediately changed it to Clifford because he had red spots and acted like a big loveable dog.
After Clifford we treated Gym, the Shetland pony that foundered and had severe thrush in the frogs of his feet from standing in a wet, unsanitary stall. I then spent some time quietly talking to the thoroughbred, Ice, offering him carrots, but the horse was so skittish he stood and trembled in the back corner of the stall. Hank came up beside me and I sighed, tossing the carrots into his feed bin.
“Emily will help him,” Hank said.
I nodded. The media called Emily “a horse whisperer.” Although she didn’t really like putting a title on it. “I’ll do night check after dinner.”
“Sure thing, doll.”
By the time I got back to the house, Ream’s words were back spinning in my head. The feel of his lips on mine, the cocky grin, and twinkling eyes … that was exactly what I didn’t want to see. Damn it, Ream. It was far easier resisting him when he was being a complete butthole.
“There you are. We ordered Chinese.” Emily stood beside Logan at the kitchen counter. They were unpacking dishes from a brown paper bag. “Oww,” Emily hissed as her fingers touched the bottom of one of the containers.
Logan quickly took it from her scowling. “Mouse, let me do it.” He examined her finger before slipping it inside his mouth. When he withdrew it, he kissed the tip. “You good?”
She nodded and I noticed the flush to her cheeks.
“Damn, Logan. I haven’t had any in a while. You mind keeping it to the bedroom.” I’d need a few new toys living with these two. Logan’s mouth twitched and Emily smiled. He was still a scary hot-ass, but Emily didn’t see it. At least not anymore. She did for a while when he came back for her. It was that look in her eyes, a mixture of need and fear all whipped into one.