Page 19 of The Mountain Man's Christmas Bride
It looks like a ring box.
Almost similar to the one I’ve got in my pocket.
“Come on, baby. We can go now. Back to our apartment. Back to our friends.” He stumbles towards us now, looking even more pathetic and desperate, the smell of alcohol and vomit wafting from him.
“Back off,” I growl, holding up a hand to stop him. “She’s not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever again. It’s about time you leave Willow Ridge and don’t return.”
The pathetic desperation switches to anger quickly. “You aren’t her fucking husband. I checked.”
“Wrong.” I pulled Sage behind me. “I am her husband. Her only husband. We aremarried. And I am telling you on her behalf that it is time for you to leave. She doesn’t want you.”
His lips pulled back in a sneer, but he stepped back. “You want the broken bitch? Fine.” He spits on the ground. “She’s going to kill your babies, too, you know. If you can even knock her up.”
Red clouds my vision. Especially when I feel her suck in a breath, hear the soft sound she makes.
Before I know what I’m doing, I slam my fist into his cheek and watch him crumble. “Don’t you ever disrespect my wife again,” I growl, standing over him. The pathetic bastard curls in on himself, whimpering. “Don’t youeverlookat her again. She was always too good for you, Scott. Loved you too damn much, even though you never deserved it. Well now, she’s mine. My wife. And she isn’t broken—she was always much stronger than that.”
There’s a deepening red mark on his cheek, but I don’t care. My heart hammers wildly as I step away and run a hand through my hair. It’s been a while since I’ve put my fist through something; the skin on my knuckles is split, hand trembling, but otherwise, I don’t feel the pain.
But when I turn back to Sage, she’s shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Let’s go,” I murmur, stepping towards her. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
I should have called the sheriff the first night Scott was in town. Let him know to kick the fucker out of Willow Ridge. Thatcould have protected her, could have saved her from the betrayal written clear across her face.
Sage allows me to guide her to the truck. Lunch plans are forgotten as I help her in and buckle her seatbelt. The entire time she’s quietly crying.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, wiping one of her tears away. “I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t look at me, still trembling as I cup her cheek. Fuck, I want to hear her say she’s okay, but I know the comment hit her exactly how he wanted it to.
Sighing, I pull back and close the truck door. Delilah stands nearby, wringing her hands. “I should be with her,” she says. “She needs me.”
“I can take care of her,” I say, nodding to Axel who hands me the bag with Sage’s gift. “But Axel knows where my cabin is, if you want to meet us up there.”
“He used her biggest fear against her,” Delilah says, eyes searching mine, like she’s making sure I can actually look after her sister.
Holding onto the gift bag, I sigh. “I know.”
With that, I go to the truck, sliding into the driver’s side and putting the bag in the back. The entire time, Sage remains silent, her breaths heavy as she continues to cry silently.
“I know I can’t fix what he just did,” I say quietly, “but he’s wrong.”
Sage finally makes a sound, a sound that is so broken and painful that it cuts right through me. “But he’s right,” she sobs. “I failed. I—” She doesn’t repeat the words he’d thrown at her, instead squeezing her eyes shut and folding in on herself. Her shoulders shake as she cries, sobbing into her hands.
The sight has tears burning my own eyes. Especially as I lean across the consul and wrap my arms around her trembling body. “He was not right,” I murmur. “He was so fucking wrong.”
She leans into me, still crying. “I’m the one who couldn’t get pregnant. Who miscarried. Who has the broken womb, Rhett. There is no denying that.”
I swallow hard, jaw clenched tight. “That doesn’t mean shit,” I growl, taking her by surprise. “And you should know that better than anyone. Tell me, did he knock up any of his mistresses?”
Sage shoves out of my hold and stares at me in horror. “What? Why would you?—”
“Answer me,” I say firmly, as gently as possible. “Did he?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide. “No, he didn’t. But?—”
“He’sthe problem, Sage. He was always the problem. Not you. It was never you.” And the fact that she still doesn’t see that, still won’t recognise just how fucking despicable that piece of shit is, tells me I haven’t done my job as her husband—her protector. “You can still have everything you want. And it doesn’t have to be with him. It never had to be with him. He is not the end of all your dreams.”
