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I know she’s telling the truth. She wouldn’t lie to me. I’m completely blown away, finding out that she left that whole part of the story out. She testified that Cain just showed up, unannounced; they started having a casual conversation, and then he forced himself on her before Holden showed up. I guess it’s still the truth, but it certainly wasn’t the whole story.
“I’m so sorry, Dolly. I’m so sorry for what he did. I’m sorry that … you liked him and he treated you that way.” I can’t imagine how it’s affected her mentally. I’ve seen her struggle emotionally ever since the traumatic day that she was nearly raped and then watched her brother kill a man before her eyes.
But for her to have liked him, trusted him?
I shake my head.
She nods, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I just want to move on from it.”
I nod. “Of course not. It’s our secret.”
My heart swells with emotion with the realization that she trusts me with this huge secret. A secret that could change a lot of things.
I wrap my arms around her slim shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. “Have you picked a movie yet?”
“Yes, we’re rewatching Pretty Woman.”
“Perfect.”
I lay my head on her shoulder, and she presses play.
8
HOLDEN
Iwalk into the kitchen to search for more bourbon that Pops hopefully has stored away somewhere. Cash, Sterling, Duke, and I have been poring over the books and having a late-night business meeting of sorts with liquor and cigars in the man cave upstairs.
It feels good to be home with my brothers and doing these things in person instead of through Plexiglas in an orange jumpsuit, sober.
Still, I’m barely sleeping. I can feel the exhaustion deep inside my bones. The calm, quiet stillness of the ranch makes my ears ring. No guards are screaming at me to wake up in the morning. No groups of paid assailants are hunting me down, forcing me to defend myself and fight for my life. The nightmares bring me back to hell, night after night.
It’s over. You’re out. You’re not going back. You were pardoned.
Rosie and Dolly have taken over the living room. There are opened packs of Oreos, Sour Patch Kids, and popcorn bags, along with wine corks, littering the kitchen counter.
“Women,” I mutter.
I’m not used to the sounds and sights of feminine presence, but there’s something comforting about it I never noticed before.
I’m reaching up into the cabinet above the fridge when I hear footsteps.
“Ope, didn’t see you there, sir.”
I turn to see Rosie, covering up a smile with two empty wineglasses as she sways on her feet. She tilts her head to study me for a moment, squinting her eyes like she can’t see clearly.
She’s wearing a white tank top, the clear outline of her nipples making it obvious that she’s not wearing a bra. Her breasts are definitely bigger than a double-D, swaying right along with her. My neck feels hot.
It’s been years since I’ve touched the soft skin of a woman. Rosie Dixon has always been conventionally beautiful, but since I’ve been back, she’s turned mouthwateringly sexy and impossible to ignore.
She sets the glasses down on the granite, nearly dropping one on the floor. She moves around the large kitchen island toward the pantry. She’s wearing tiny little pink pajama shorts, exposing her legs and the bottom crease of her ass cheeks. Her long, thick hair is tumbling down past her shoulders toward her lower back.
How the fuck is Duke in the man cave with us and not out here, touching and exploring every inch of her?
She disappears into the pantry, not bothering to turn on the light.
“Hey you, jerkasaurus. Be a dear and fetch me that wine bottle on the top shelf. Pretty, pretty please?” she singsongs from inside the pantry.
I exhale, debating whether or not I should just get in the truck and drive to town in search of some female companionship. If I went down to Old Harry’s, the bar I used to frequent, I’m sure there would be a few women I’d been intimate with in the past who might be interested again. For some reason, the thought of sex with a stranger just doesn’t hold the appeal it once did. Maybe it’s the years I spent behind bars.
