Page 9 of Jaded Soul

When we get out to the parking lot, I set Rowan down on her feet, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her. “You okay to ride?” I ask, tilting my chin toward my motorcycle.

“I’ve never been on a bike before but I said I trust you, so… yes?”

I grin down at her, happy to hear her confirm her trust in me. After pressing a kiss to her forehead - my new favorite thing- I get on my bike and instruct Rowan to climb on behind me. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly when the bike rumbles to life.

I know I should call the Prez and update him on what happened today, but first I need to find out how Rowan is wrapped up in all of this. She said she’s never been on a bike, so I’m guessing she hasn’t been around Hell’s Scoundrels for long.

As I turn left out of the diner parking lot, I feel Rowan trying to hold in her sobs as the reality of the day and what she's been through finally sink in. I take my time, riding slower than I normally would to ensure she won't be bumped or rattled too much. She has to be in pain.

When we pull into the driveway of my ranch-style house, I hold out my hand and guide Rowan to swing her leg over and dismount, using me as support. I do the same, resting a hand on her hip when I see she’s slightly shaking. It could be from the incident at the diner or from her first time on a bike. Either way, I have the strongest urge to wrap her up in a blanket and hold her on my lap until she falls asleep.

Once inside, I guide Rowan to the kitchen table and encourage her to sit in one of the chairs while I grab the first aid kit I keep in my bathroom. I pull up a seat next to her and hold out my left hand, palm facing up. She rests her right hand in mine, and I wince when I see a few cuts littered across her pale skin.

I carefully clean each cut before placing a dot of antibiotic cream and a bandage over them. Rowan doesn’t say a single word the entire time, though her shaky breath lets me know she’s still in a bit of a shock. I reach for her other hand, pleased to see no damage.

“Thank you,” I say softly, lifting her injured hand to my lips and placing a light kiss over her knuckles. She tilts her head to the side, her purple eyes filled with questions. “Thank you forletting me take care of you.” Rowan blinks in confusion, which tugs at my goddamn heartstrings.

I place her hand in her lap, then motion for her to turn and show me her back where the rock hit her. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip and looking away from me.

“We’ll be done after this, I promise. I just need to see the wound.”

“I can take care of it,” she offers. Her words come out in a rush and I get the sense that she doesn’t want me to see her back for some reason. “Really. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a bruise that will heal soon enough.”

“Rowan,” I start, though I’m not sure what to follow up with.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for years now. Pretty much my whole life,” she continues. “I can certainly handle a little bruise.”

“But you’re bleeding,” I inform her, pointing to the small line of red seeping through her shirt.

“Merely a flesh wound,” she says, trying to make a joke with an old movie reference.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, not for the first time today.

Rowan pauses, her face growing serious as those brilliant eyes meet mine. This woman is one secret after another, but I don’t mind. Each new discovery is just one more piece of the puzzle. One more piece of her soul. One more piece of her to love.

Holy shit.Love?

I let the word settle deep down within me, coursing through my body and electrifying every cell.Yes, love.That feels right. I love Rowan more with every breath, every beat of my heart.

“I trust you,” she mouths, her voice gone at the moment.

Rowan adjusts in her chair so her back is facing me. I gently lift up the hem of her shirt, hissing when I see the jagged cut from the rock. It’s not too deep, but it pisses me off all the same.After grabbing an antiseptic wipe, a large gauze pad, and some medical tape to hold it in place, I lift Rowan’s shirt again, higher this time to give me more room to work.

What I see makes me tense and curse under my breath.

Giant scars crisscross over her skin, the white, jagged lines running from top to bottom, as well as what appears to be burn marks. Rowan curls her shoulders up and ducks her head in shame, curling in on herself as she bears the work of what I'm guessing is her father's abuse on the canvas of her back.

I focus on the task at hand, needing to get her patched up before we have another discussion. My girl has been through a lot today, and if she isn’t ready to tell me anything about her old scars, then she doesn’t have to. I’ll be here whenever she’s comfortable sharing that part of her story.

“He whipped me with his belt when I disobeyed,” she whispers. I pause, my hand hovering over her cut. I’m shaking with rage at the man who harmed her, but I take a breath and calm the hell down so she can continue. “He had a big silver belt buckle with a cowboy riding a bull from his days in the rodeo. He wore that thing everywhere even though he got injured early on in his career and had to retire. It made for a brutal but effective weapon when he wanted it to be.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur as I place the gauze pad over her cut and secure it with medical tape.

“Sometimes his friends threw cigar or cigarette butts at me, jeering and encouraging my father.She deserves it. A whore just like her mother.” Rowan inhales sharply, holding in a sob. “I never even knew my mom. How could I be like her? I haven’t dated or kissed or–”

She cuts herself off, turning to look at me over her shoulder. My mind is still reeling from her confession of how her father treated her and I almost don't register her last remark.I haven’t dated or kissed or…

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she rushes to say. “That was like… that was a ton of information that you didn’t ask for and didn’t want and I can’t believe I just rambled like that…”

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