Cowboy SEAL Redemption Read online

  “There you are! The bearer of big news,” Becca greeted, all grinning excitement.

  “I didn’t say it was big exactly. You didn’t have to go through so much trouble, Bec.” Jack had the sudden and uncomfortable feeling that he was very much in the spotlight.

  “You said you had news, big or not,” Becca said all too brightly. “I wanted to set the stage.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “What news do you think I have?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You and Rose seemed awfully happy together, and she did punch your brother for you. I thought maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” he replied, sliding into his seat.

  “Well, obviously something real is going on. I thought maybe something permanent was happening.”

  “Oh, Christ. She thinks you’re getting married,” Gabe said in disgust. “You have weddings on the brain, Bec. Poor guy has been fake dating for a few weeks. Chill.”

  “I thought you liked Rose,” Jack said to Gabe, a little offended at Gabe’s tone.

  “I like Rose. I don’t like weddings.” Gabe groaned in disgust. “Oh no. You can’t be serious. You’re not going to—”

  “There’s not going to be a wedding yet,” Jack replied before Gabe could go on a rant to end all rants.

  “Yet!” Becca shouted.

  “Bec,” Alex muttered under his breath.

  “He said ‘yet,’ which means he’s considered a wedding.”

  “He hasn’t considered shit,” Gabe argued, making Becca frown.

  “Oh, you’re in his brain, determining what he can and can’t consider? What’s crawled up your butt lately, Gabe?”

  “Rose is pregnant,” Jack blurted. Oh, it was going to be so much worse when he inevitably blurted that news to his mother. She might like Rose quite a bit, but she wasn’t going to like a baby with no wedding.

  The silence was deafening.

  “Someone say anything. Please. Anything,” Jack said, looking around the table at his friends’ shocked faces.

  “Is it yours?”

  He glared at Gabe.

  Gabe flinched. “Sorry. Saying a nasty thing in an awkward situation is a bad habit. In all fairness, I got it from you.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t say anything like that around her. We didn’t exactly plan it, and she’s a little shell-shocked.”

  Gabe snorted, and Becca slapped his shoulder.

  “But it happened,” Jack continued. “We’re a little surprised, but we’re figuring out a way to make it all work.” Except that she wasn’t talking, and he was giving her space.

  “So you’re not getting married?” Becca asked, poking at the lasagna on her plate.

  “Rose isn’t quite ready for that.”

  “But you are,” Becca said with a grin, pointing her fork at him.

  “Maybe we could focus on our wedding first, huh?” Alex said, giving Becca’s arm a squeeze. Jack had known Alex long enough to know he was stepping in to give Jack a little breathing room.

  “A baby is great news, wedding or no wedding,” Becca said, beaming at him. “I just want you to be happy. I’m not trying to be the wedding harpy.”

  “You don’t have to be married to be happy,” Gabe muttered.

  “No, but you’re not happy and you’re unmarried, so you have no right to add to this conversation,” Becca retorted.

  “I’m happy enough.”

  “Ha!”

  “I believe the point here tonight, guys, is that Jack is going to be a dad,” Alex said in his brook no argument or further ridiculous conversation tone.

  Jack felt his heart stop. It was the way Alex said dad. A dad. Like his dad. To the kid. Like an actual baby.

  “Went a little pale there, buddy,” Gabe said, nudging a beer toward Jack.

  “I’m feeling a little pale,” Jack returned, taking the beer and a very long sip.

  “You know no matter what happens, we’re here for you,” Becca said, their little mother hen. “To help and do whatever. And Rose too. I like her a lot. I hope she knows that.”

  Jack looked around the table at the family he’d made here. He missed his own family. He did, but these people…there was no weird history. There was no minefield of betrayals to step through.

  He’d been through hell with Alex and Gabe at his side, and they’d all come out of that hell here, together, with Becca. It was kind of amazing to think of how far they’d all come.

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “Not just for that, but for the past few months. The past few years. It was an incredible stroke of luck that I was assigned to the same team as the two of you, and that it brought us all here to you, Bec.”

  Becca sniffled, and Jack felt a little misty himself, but Gabe and Alex had their stoic Navy SEAL faces on, and that made Jack smile.

  “How about a toast?” Alex said, raising his beer bottle. “To many future incredible strokes of luck.”

  “Hear, hear.”

  * * *

  Rose sat in the driver’s seat of her car, wondering if it was possible for a heart to beat out of a person’s chest.

  Delia was in the passenger seat, looking pale and drawn. Steph, Billie, and Elsie were crammed together in the back, arms linked as if their solidarity could ward off what they were about to do.

  Rose had stopped at the beginning of the driveway that would lead them beyond the tree line and to their childhood home. She wasn’t sure why she’d stopped, why she couldn’t seem to push the gas pedal. They’d come this far, piled into the car that would lead them to a final confrontation with their dying father.

  Back to the hell they’d grown up in.

  “If anyone doesn’t want to do this, they don’t have to,” Delia said, sounding as calm and in charge as she always did. She was so clearly the strongest out of all of them. The oldest sister. Always looking out for them.

  “No. We do this together. You were right, Delia. This is going to be great closure for all of us,” Elsie said firmly.

  Steph and Billie echoed Elsie’s words, and Rose could only sit in the driver’s seat, clutching the steering wheel.

  “Rose? You can still turn around. You don’t have to do this.” Delia rested her hand on Rose’s arm.

  That was exactly what Rose wanted. She wanted to turn around and run away. She wanted to do something—anything—that didn’t involve putting her foot to the accelerator and facing her father. Not with her sisters in tow. She wanted to be out of this so badly, it hurt.

  But her sisters were here thinking it would be good. That it would be closure. Nothing good would come of this. There was no closure to be found.

  “Rose?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Her sisters all gasped, and it echoed around the interior of the car. Rose could only sit frozen. She’d been the one to say it, had felt her lips move and the words escape her mouth, and yet she couldn’t quite believe what had come out.

  Why here? Why now?

  “Jack?” Delia asked carefully.

  Rose nodded, her hands starting to hurt, and yet she couldn’t loosen her death grip on the wheel.

  “Who’s Jack?” Elsie demanded.

  “The guy Rose has been seeing,” Delia supplied when Rose said nothing.

  Rose wanted to correct Delia. Not seeing. Ruining. Ruining him from the inside out. He’d been giving her space even though he didn’t want to, and the fact that he was acting against what he wanted was all she needed to know she was no good for him. She would never give him space. She would never give someone what they wanted at the expense of something she wanted. She wasn’t wired that way. Dad said so. Mom said so. Every man she’d ever let into her orbit had told her she was hard or selfish or mean.

  Except Jack.

  She couldn’t think about Jack. She had to think about the future. Her sisters knowing she
was pregnant would help them understand when she disappeared. Dan was talking to Mel about the money this evening, and then Rose would have an answer. This was going to be her last hurrah with all of her sisters for a very long time. So it was good she’d told them.

  “You really don’t have to do this,” Delia said gently.

  “I want to,” Rose lied.

  “I wasn’t talking about visiting Dad. I was talking about going through with the pregnancy.”

  Rose turned to actually look at Delia, who was clearly so worried about her. Rose swallowed at the lump in her throat. “I know. I want to.” Jack would be a great father, and the baby she had would be so lucky to have him. So very lucky.

  It was that reminder that had Rose’s foot hitting the gas pedal. She had things to do, and so did her sisters. They all had to make their choices and live their lives, and maybe once they put this man in the ground, they really could move on for good.

  She drove up the drive, an oppressive silence filling the car—the silence was full of memories and horrors, the kind no one wanted to relive.

  The last time she’d been here, she’d come with the intention of provoking her father into beating her up so she could send him to jail. It had worked. Finally, they’d all been free.

  Rose couldn’t hold on to that feeling of success. All she could remember, even as the falling-down shack came into view on this bright summer afternoon, was the day she’d escaped. The day she’d sacrificed Delia, the one person who’d cared about her more than anything.

  The car came to a stop, and the girls got out. Rose felt numb and cold even though it was warm and sunny. She trudged after her sisters, a coward in the back.

  “What are you girls doing here?” Rose heard Mom’s voice demand, though Rose kept her gaze on the ground. She focused on the cracked ground, the dirt where no grass grew.

  “Aunt Beth called about Dad,” Delia said, always so strong and defiant.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “We’d like to say goodbye.”

  “Why should I let you girls do that? All you ever did was cause us pain and suffering. All you ever did was disappoint us and degrade us and—”

  “Mom. Move.”

  Rose didn’t know what their mother’s response to that was, but the girls started shuffling inside, and Rose could only follow. She kept her gaze on the back of Steph’s bright-red tennis shoes, so incongruous to the dark atmosphere inside the house.

  The house smelled. It always had. It was as cramped and dark as it had ever been. Nothing had changed except the decay was worse, the darkness heavier, the smell potent.

  When Steph stopped, Rose stopped. Only then did she look up.

  Dad sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, his eyes closed. His skin looked almost yellow, and he was at least a third of the size he’d once been. He had withered down to nothing but sagging skin over bones. Rose was almost convinced he was dead sitting right there.

  Slowly, his dark eyes opened. Your eyes, Rose. He scanned the room, and when he finally decided on somewhere to look, he chose her. Always.

  He just stared. All the hate in the world aimed at her.

  Just like me, aren’t you, Rosie girl?

  “I’d beat every last one of you if I could,” he rasped, his gaze never leaving Rose’s.

  “I suppose it’s a very good thing you can’t, because we would kill you,” Delia said in the same tone someone might use to ask how he was feeling. “You’re a miserable human being,” she continued. “I have never been so glad to hear the news of someone’s impending death. I hope you rot in hell. While you do, I hope you know that each of us has built a happy, amazing life. Full of love and forgiveness and everything you never had in you.”

  He spit at Delia, but she jumped back. He rasped out a laugh.

  “You tried to ruin our lives,” Billie said, her voice wavering but loud. “But you didn’t.”

  “Every time I succeed, I toss a middle finger your way,” Elsie added.

  “The only thing I have to thank you for, you worthless, cruel, useless excuse for a human being, is that you created five strong women who will make sure to change the world for the better despite you,” Steph said, sounding so grown-up and sure, Rose wanted to cry.

  All her sisters had spoken, but she couldn’t find the words. She didn’t know what to say to this man who’d promised her ponies and broken her bones. The man who’d taught her how to play poker and used her. She didn’t know what to say to a man she’d saved, a man she’d had thrown in jail, a man who’d made so many women’s lives hell.

  “Don’t you have anything to say, Rosie girl?” Dad rasped, glaring at her.

  Rose was paralyzed. She felt weighted down by how being here tainted her all over again, by how his nickname for her made her feel dirty and worthless. This was the last time she’d see him. She was sure of it. This was the last time she would see her father alive.

  She wasn’t like her sisters, so strong and brave, with practiced speeches to ensure he knew that they had won. That they’d overcome everything he’d tried to use to tie them down.

  Instead, Rose was running away. From her life. From the man she loved. Even from a child.

  That was exactly what he should have done—he should have abandoned them. Rose was going to fix his mistakes.

  “We should go. Unless you want to say something?” Delia asked.

  Rose didn’t have the words. The man was dying. He’d been to jail. He’d spent his life beating up women. There was nothing to say.

  She could punch him like she’d punched Mike and suddenly feel better about herself. She could tell him she was the one who’d called the ambulance the night he’d almost died. She could tell him he had tried to mold her in his image and that he’d succeeded. She could tell him a million and one things, but nothing would come out of her mouth.

  “Leave?” Billie asked gently.

  Rose managed a nod, and they started filing out. Rose could feel Mom’s gaze on her. She looked back, just once, after all her sisters had stepped out the door.

  “You didn’t have anything to say because you’re just like him. You always have been,” Mom hissed.

  Rose stared for a very long time at her mother. She was old and bedraggled, and even though her father was sitting there looking like death himself, she had a bruise under her eye.

  “But I won’t be. I won’t be,” Rose whispered in return.

  Chapter 24

  Jack walked out of the stables at the end of a long day. His leg ached, and he was more than a little exhausted, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Aching muscles and exhaustion paled in the anticipation of seeing Rose tonight. Though she’d been withdrawn the past few days, each night, he had hope he’d find some crack to sneak through. She wasn’t letting him in yet, but she wasn’t pushing him away. With Rose, that was still a step in the right direction.

  He was going to bypass the barn and head for the showers, but he frowned at the angry voices wafting out of the barn. Before he could figure out what Gabe and Monica were arguing about so vehemently, he heard the unmistakable grind and putter of Rose’s car. Which was odd—usually they met at her house after she’d closed the bar.

  He shaded his eyes against the fading sun as she stepped out of the car and slowly walked over to him.

  “Hey, everything all right?” he asked.

  She smiled thinly, sunglasses shielding her eyes from him. “Yeah.”

  “You’re not at the bar.”

  “No, I decided to take the night off.”

  Jack couldn’t hide his surprise. “You feeling okay?”

  She peered into the open barn door. Gabe and Monica’s argument ended with a yelled insult and Monica storming away, brushing past them without a greeting. Gabe stomped out of the barn in the opposite direction.

  “Is Monica Ga
be’s therapist as well?” Rose asked, watching Monica get in her car and slam her door shut before driving away.

  “Gabe hasn’t quite made that step yet.”

  Rose cocked her head, and still those sunglasses hid whatever she was dealing with today. “What step?” she asked.

  “The agree to therapy step.”

  Rose smirked, some flash of her normal self in it. “How surprising. He’s always so cheerful and well adjusted.”

  The sarcasm in her voice gave him pause for a moment, because that was exactly how most people would describe Gabe. It went to show just how much had obviously changed in the past few months, changes Jack hadn’t completely absorbed, because he’d been wrapped up in his own. “You know, I actually think that’s a good thing,” he murmured.

  “Guys being assholes is rarely a good thing, Jack. I mean, I know he’s your friend, and I’m not saying he’s an asshole. He just…”

  “Has been a bit of an asshole lately, but when we first got here, Gabe was all fake jokes and empty smiles, pretending like everything was great. The fact that he’s letting some of that not-great show is a good first step, I think.”

  Rose blew out a breath and offered him one of those small, forced smiles that made a hard weight settle in his gut. He had a bad feeling, but that was silly. She was still uncertain about everything and trying to brave her way through it like she always did.

  It was nice to see her brave it with something softer than all her usual sharp edge. Or so he was trying to convince himself, but part of him couldn’t help but wish she’d fight—hard and mean.

  “Why aren’t you at the bar tonight? I thought it would take a team of wild horses and possibly a blizzard-hurricane-earthquake combo to make that happen.”

  She didn’t laugh at his joke, and that made the hard weight heavier. He reached out and nudged the sunglasses off her face, because he needed to see her eyes. See her.

  She flinched a little. Without the glasses on, she looked pale and exhausted. He frowned at the puffiness in her eyes, as though she’d been crying. She was running herself too hard, and he doubted the emotional upheaval was helping any.