Page 63 of Wild and Unruly
“I missed you, girl,” I say against her ear.
Her arms tighten around me, and I just hold her for a moment before I tilt her head back and press my lips against hers, officially letting myself sink into her embrace.
After a few moments, we pull away, and I head to her truck, helping myself to her bag and shutting her door. She stands by watching with a smile on her lips, and we turn, walking hand in hand to The Lodge.
Amelia isn’t at the front, so there’s no stopping our momentum as we make our way down to her room. I set her bag on the little couch that’s against the wall and turn back to her, watching as she tiredly strips from her city clothes.
“I’m glad you came home early,” I say the words before I can think them through, and Bonnie looks at me in surprise.
But then, her next words are a balm to my soul as she whispers, “It feels good to be home.”
I grin at her and step into her nearly naked form, rubbing my hands over her shoulders and back, not in a sexual way but as a way to comfort her. “You doing okay? Did you get to see your family?”
She shakes her head sadly. “Not my mom.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” I kiss the side of her head, brushing aside her hair, and hook my finger under her chin. “But your brother?”
Her look to me nearly guts me, but when I see her chin tremble, I want to find whoever caused it and gut him. “It didn’t go well.”
“What did he do?” The voice that comes out isn’t one I use very often. I reserve it for when I’m ready to kick someone’s ass on the behalf of someone I love.
“Just…” She sighs and rubs a hand over her face, smearing the mascara that is on her lashes. I don’t say anything, wanting tohear what the hell he did, and frankly, she still looks fucking beautiful. “He got upset. I pushed for him to come with me, to check out the ranch and meet everyone.” Shaking her head, she says, “But he got so upset that he chucked a mug at the wall. I’ve never seen him that mad.”
I raise a brow, my heart jamming in my throat as I fight to stay calm. “Were you near that wall?”
She sighs and steps back. “It doesn’t matter. I pushed, and I got burned. I shouldn’t have tried to do that. I should have just had a nice visit and let it be.”
I grit my teeth, my anger overriding rational thought, and I have to remind myself that it isn’t my place. I don’t know her brother, only know the story of what he’s been through, and I can’t place judgment.
Then again, was it my place? She was mine. Whether we’ve said that out loud or not, Bonnie Helix was mine, which meant the way she was treated mattered to me.
Hell, even if she wasn’t mine, I wouldn’t allow her to be treated like shit.
“I felt awful leaving that mess for my mom, but I had to get out of there.” She sinks into my arms, and I hold her to me, not letting her go until she pulls away.
“What did your mom say?”
Bonnie lets out an exhausted breath and starts unpacking her bag. “She was mad. Pissed that he would do that. But she’s at just as much of a loss as I am on how to help him.”
“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want the help.”
She shakes her head. “I understand that. I do. The problem is his misery is still hanging over my head, hanging over my mom’s. She doesn’t feel like she’s allowed to feel joy because her son is still mourning his life.”
I bite my lip. I had no fucking clue what to do in this situation, none. “Maybe just…enjoy your lives.” Bonnie pauses and looks up at me. “If he sees you two working through your grief, having lives, enjoying your life, then maybe it’ll push him to do the same.”
She doesn’t respond. Her gaze lands on the balcony door and the mountains beyond it, and I give her a minute to think it through.
“What else happened in Denver?” I ask, taking a seat on the bed as she redressed. “Did you have fun?”
“I don’t think fun is the word. I was at the office a bit, had some meetings. Talked to my boss,” she says, then her gaze comes up to mine. “She gave me a deadline.”
My breath hitches in my chest but I remain calm on the outside. “Yeah?”
She nods, her watery eyes hitting mine, and I know whatever she’s about to tell me, I won’t like it. “I have one more week.”
Fuck.
“One week?” It’s not a question. I can hear perfectly fine. I’m just hoping I suddenly have water in my ears or forgot English.
