Page 65 of When We Burn

Blake stops to brush his hand lightly over Dani’s hair. “You okay, gorgeous?”

I growl, but he ignores me. It may be stupid, but I don’t wantanyman touching her, even my brother.

“Sure.” Her voice is thready, and neither of us believes her.

Blake’s eyes turn to mine, and I nod, silently telling him that I have this.

We all love her and want to protect her.

So, my brother follows the others, and I take Dani’s hands in my own. Her eyes look glassy, like she’s somewhere else, and I press my lips to her forehead.

“Baby, are you really okay?”

“No,” she whispers, and I’m relieved that she trusts me enough to tell me the truth.

Without overthinking it, I scoop my girl into my arms and carry her to the house, up the steps of the wraparound porch, and settle her in my lap in one of the rocking chairs, holding her to me.

“You can tell me.” I kiss her head, run my hand down her arm, and hold on to her shaking hand. “Talk to me about the chickens, kitten.”

It took Holden a while, but somehow, he talked his father into only keeping the larger animals on the ranch.

“Something especially bad must have happened with the birds.”

She shivers and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her precious face in my neck, and a sob makes its way out of her that tears my chest wide open.

“Ah, baby.” I hug her close, rocking us back and forth, my lips pressed to her. It’s like she can’t get close enough to me, like she wants to be safe inside of me, and it makes me ache for her. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“He would p-p-pluck them”—my eyes close because I can guess where this is going—“while they were still alive. And they would scream so loud. And he would laugh.”

Fuck, I want to kill him. I want to raise that motherfucker from the grave and tear his guts out.

“He liked to make things bleed.” She’s still clinging to me, pressed as close as she can get, and I hold on tight, not letting her go. God, I’ll never let her go. “He liked to make them cry. God, Bridge, he was so damn mean.”

“And he liked to make you girls cry the most.” My voice is rough, and she nods.

“He never mademebleed.” It’s a whisper, and I have to listen closely to hear her. “But p-p-poor Darby.”

I feel my eyes widen. I had no idea that he made his oldest daughter bleed, and I wonder if Holden knows. Christ, I can’t imagine it. I can’t fathom putting my daughter through that.

I’d kill anyone who even tried to look at Birdie wrong.

“He hurt everything. Everyone,” she continues, her voice stronger now. “He got off on it. We had a cat once. I can’t go there. I can’t talk about the unspeakable things he did to those poor, defenseless animals. But the chickens, Bridge. They were the worst, and they were my chore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was in charge of gathering eggs, and I had to go out there every day, and they were just so sad. And I couldn’t help them. If I tried to help them, he’d run the water over my face.”

Fuck me.

“I just can’t do the chickens, and I’m sorry for it. I wish I could, but I just can’t?—”

“Hey, you look at me.” I cup her face and urge her back so I can look in her pretty eyes. “Baby, you don’t ever have to see another chicken as long as you live if you don’t want to. Birdie’s fine out there with me or my family.”

“I wish I could enjoy that with her.” She sniffles, and I swipe at the tears on her cheek with my thumb. “But I can’t.”

“I know, and it’s okay. You need to let that guilt go, because it’s okay.And it’s not your fault. I promise, baby, we only want you to be comfortable here, and if that’s the one place that’s your hard limit, we’ll respect that.”

“Thank you.” She wipes at her tears and takes a deep breath. “I hope we’re not having chicken for dinner.”

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