Page 48 of Entangled in Them

“He threw a pillow at me and tried to throw me out.”

I compressed a smile between my lips. “That sounds like him.”

“I didn’t leave. I sat down next to him on the floor. He was pretty cut up. He told me what happened.”

“Dillon didn’t wake up?”

“No. I offered to go and get him, but he said he didn’t want Dillon to see him like that.”

“Ryan tries to keep up the tough act in front of Dillon. I’m glad he felt like he could open up to you.”

She bit her lower lip, and I found myself staring at where the porcelain white met the plump, pink flesh.

“I didn’t think he was going to,” she admitted. “I was worried you weren’t there and neither of us had you to turn to.”

Something inside me warmed at the thought of both of them needing me. But with the emotion came a rush of something else, and I recoiled from the feeling. I didn’t want that. Not again. No one needing me, not when I wasn’t able to protect them. To save them.

And I wasn’t going to be able to save Rue. Men far more powerful than us were after her.

She must have seen the volley of emotions cross my face. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.” I needed to turn the topic away from me. “What did you think of Ryan’s injury?”

“Sad. Horribly sad. But at the same time, it’s the proof he survived.”

“He doesn’t see it like that.”

“He might. In time.”

I gave her a smile. “I hope you’re right.”

She shrugged. “It’s surprising what people can grow used to. A big change like that will take time, but eventually it’ll just be a part of who he is, and he’ll live with it.”

Her insight surprised me, but then I realized she was talking about herself. Of course, she’d suffered horribly at the hands of the men she’d been sold to. It was completely different from Ryan’s situation, but she understood how to adapt. For a moment, the truth about my own past danced on the tip of my tongue, but I clamped my mouth down around it. I didn’t want her to know, perhaps in the same way Ryan hadn’t wanted anyone to know about his leg. It was a vulnerability.

Or maybe it was simply that if others didn’t know, we could pretend it had never happened.

“You look tired,” she observed.

“I’m fine. I just need a shower and a change of clothes.” I glanced toward the kitchen. I felt like I needed to make it up to Ryan, and maybe even Dillon for being such a shit about Rue over the last few days. The appointment would take a couple of hours. I bet they’d appreciate coming home to a good meal.

Cooking helped to take my mind off everything. I could focus on the creation of the meal, and knowing I was giving the other two—and Rue as well—nourishing food. I thought Dillon would live on takeout, if it was up to him, and Ryan wasn’t much better. Cooking and sharing a meal wasn’t only about eating. It was a time for us to come together to talk, and perhaps drink a glass of wine and bond.

First, I needed to wash and change out of my clothes. I didn’t like to think what I might have come into contact with on the plane.

I left Rue sitting on the couch and went into my bedroom. I stopped suddenly, like I’d been punched in the chest, hit by the unfamiliar scent on the air and the different clothes on the end of the bed. This was no longer just my room. It was Rue’s as well, and she’d left her mark. I didn’t know how I felt about that. It took me back to a time I’d tried to put behind me

The bathroom appeared untouched by her femininity, and I took a quick shower, washing away the grime of traveling.

“You want to help me cook?” I asked Rue as I emerged from the bedroom, dressed in clean pants and a shirt.

She was still sitting on the couch, looking like she was at a loose end.

She bounced to her feet. “I’d love to.”

“Get over here, then, and we’ll see what we can rustle up.”

I opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “How are you with sweet things?”

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