Just Her Luck (38 page)

"I hardly see how you guys calling Ruthie looking for me is my fault!" I hissed.

I cradled my injured hand to my chest and glared at him.

"If you hadn't ran off like a chicken shit, nowhere to be found, and scared the shit outta them all, then none of this would have happened."

I let out a self-deprecating laugh and ran a hand through my hair.

"Chicken shit? Chicken shit? You wanna talk about chicken shits, Reeve?"

I poked him in the chest and advanced on him, satisfied when he moved back, stumbling a little at the look on my face.

"You're one to talk, Reeve Marshall Harrison! You're so scared of your own shadow! You can barely face the day! You’re a coward!” I accused. “
You
ran from
me!!
I never pushed for anything. I never asked for more. But you knew, the second you let me see the
real
you, not the asshole you let everyone else see, you knew.”

I was panting heavily, chest heaving as I tried to control myself and my heart felt like it was going to explode.

I stared at him for a moment, willing myself not to care, but god damn it, I did.

“I would have said yes, if you'd just asked, you stupid ass wipe! You're so afraid of committing to someone, or of just letting someone in
- let alone get close to you-
you run before there's even a need to run! Scaring everyone off with your acid tongue and venomous words! You tell me, who's the chicken shit? Huh? Huh, Reeve? Who?!"

His face was red with anger, jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth.

"You took off when the going got tough!" he accused. "Just like all you women do!" he roared at me.

"You were right!" I bellowed back, "You said I was ruining them, and you were right! I won't be the cause of it! I won't break you all up! I didn't run from them,
I ran from me!
I was protecting them
- from me!"

Fat tears pooled in my eyes and they fell as my lips trembled, chin wobbling as my jaw shook like I had the shivers.

I hated myself for it.

You’re weak, Vieve,
I admonished myself, tears rolling steadily down my cheeks.

Stop crying!

You’re letting him see.

But I couldn’t.

Reeve just stood there, eyes on me fixedly, stock still.

Taken aback by my admission and reaction, he didn't say anything, a good bit of shock apparent on his face.

I swiped the stupid tears from my eyes with my right hand and gave up any pretense of anything, looking up at him sadly.

"I wouldn't consider it hurting them,” I sniffled, hating the break in my voice, “I was trying to help them. Maybe it's like you said... I'm poison,” I stared down at the blood slowly starting to trickle from my hand again, “I fuck up everything I touch."

My voice was barely above a whisper as I finished, my throat working convulsively, trying to get past the lump lodged in it.

"Genevieve," he whispered, anguished, quieting when I turned my back on him.

"Baby?" Ephraim shouted, hearing us, storming into the kitchen.

I heard the clomping foot steps behind me before I felt him, and my heart ached all over again.

His strong arms wrapped around me and cuddled me close.

I pulled away and turned, backing away from him.

The hurt on his face killed me, but I wasn't going to do this to him, to them.

It has to be this way, before things get too deep.

More than they already are.

"I meant what I said, Ephraim... I'm sorry..."

"You don't mean that!" he cried desperately, "Baby, I love you!"

I shook my head and wiped at my face, hugging my arms around my waist.

"Please just... leave me alone," I whispered, staring down at the floor.

"Ephraim..." Reeve said quietly, "maybe you should just let her..."

"Get your god damn hands off of me!" Ephraim growled at his brother, shoving his hand away.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out for me, but knew he wouldn't be welcomed.

"Don't do this to me...
to us
... baby, I love you," he whispered hoarsely, voice cracking.

I swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to jump right into his arms, let him hold me tight and make everything all better.

But I won't.

"I heard Ruthie's here," I murmured, making my way carefully around him, "I'm going to go make sure she's okay."

I hurried out of the room, turning my back on Ephraim, the man I
know
I love, hoping I'd made the right decision.

It’s for them.

I'm doing this for them
, I promised myself.

****

"Dear heart?" Ruthie called, standing up, walking over on unsteady legs as she made her way towards me.

When did her gait get so wobbly?

Was it like that yesterday?

I hadn't really paid attention to that.

I should have.

"Uh, sorry," I said apologetically, smiling at her sheepishly, giving her a big hug, trying to hold on to her to keep her steady as she made her way back to the couch.

Everyone else was in there, minus Ephraim and Reeve, and I was thankful no one brought anything up.

"What did you do to your hand?" Ruthie gasped, trying to get a good look at it.

"It was stupid, really," I reassured her, tucking it into my stomach protectively, "Its fine. It’s not even bleeding anymore."

"Bleeding?" Bowen rumbled out, frowning, hand reaching across the couches to reach for mine.

I recoiled, pulling my hand back.

"I said its fine," I insisted, voice clipped and curt.

This is for them.

You're poison, Vieve. You ruin everything you touch.

"It needs stitches," Reeve said gruffly, coming into the room, Ephraim walking in right behind.

I could feel Ephraim staring at me, and I wanted to look at him too, but I knew it wouldn't help me with what I'm trying to do.

I’m strong.

I can do this.

"Stitches?" Thatcher asked, wide eyed, "How bad did you hurt it? What the hell happened?"

I pursed my lips, unwilling to start another debate with any of them.

I won’t.

"Vieve," Ruthie said sternly.

Her face was lined with worry, worry for me, stubborn plastered to that face I love so much, pouring out of every nook and cranny.

Clearing my throat quietly, I looked over at her.

"If Reeve is saying you need stitches then you probably do, hun. He's the last person to make something big outta somethin' little."

I snorted at that.

Really? He isn't?

Who’s been sweetening up her tea?

"We must be talking about different Reeves," I muttered under my breath, but she heard anyway.

"You'll do this, Genevieve Ermentrude Ferguson
,
I want you to and you'll do what makes me happy. I'm old, I'm dyin', and I say so! So get your buns up off that couch and go see the doctor, missy! I won't have you being stupid!"

I winced at the use of my full name and the threat in her tone.

"Dyin'? You aren’t dyin', Ruthie. You're old, woman, but you aint
that
old." Brayden snorted.

My face turned ashen and everybody looked from Ruthie to me, from me to Ruthie, watching as Ruthie shrugged and gave everyone a small apologetic smile.

I was trying not to burst out crying or throw up, reaching my limit for the day, for the month for that matter, for the year, my stomach full of acid as my guts twisted.

"I didn't mean to say it like that," Ruthie apologized, smiling through it, "It shouldn’t have come out in such a way. I, uh, I was still trying to figure out how to tell all of you… I just, I love you all so much..." she cleared her throat a little, watering up.

Pulling her close, I hugged her tight, burying my face in her shoulder, her thin frame frail and trembling, her head resting on the top of mine, letting her lean on me as she sniffled and talked to everyone, answering questions.

God, how I wished Brayden was right.

All Shot Up

I blinked, bleary eyed as the meds they gave me to subdue me at the hospital made me feel all loopy and spaced out.

"I hate needles," I mumbled, letting my head fall on Reeve's shoulder, lolling about as I blinked repeatedly.

"I could tell," he muttered dryly, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Why are you here, again?" I asked, scratching my head, wincing when I pulled on my stitches.

"Quit doin' that," Thatcher ordered, catching my hand, putting it in his.

"You can't hold my hand." I shook my head.

Whoo, boy.

The room started spinning and I stopped.

"Oh, whoa..." I groaned, trying to clutch my head.

"I can hold your hand if I want to," Thatcher informed me.

"You can?" I asked distractedly, owl eyed, not understanding, at the moment, what was so funny about that.

"Why are you pushing everyone away?" Ephraim asked quietly from the back seat.

"How many of you are there in here?" I mumbled, frowning at Thatcher, trying to figure out which one of him I should be addressing. "I don't know if I could handle two of you." I pointed at both of him, and he grinned, kissing my finger, pointing it at the ‘him’ on the right.

"Oh, thank you." I nodded gratefully, straightening up in my seat, steadying my hand at the Thatcher on the right.

Bowen chuckled, and I glanced at him.

He leaned forward and kissed my temple, making me sigh in pleasure and smile.

"Why don't you want to be with us anymore, sweetheart? You haven't even given us a chance and you're already ready to call it quits."

"I don't want to," I murmured, letting him nuzzle my neck, titling my head to the side, "I have to..."

He bit my neck, and I moaned.

Reeve swerved on the road.

"Knock that shit off!" Reeve barked, glaring at Bowen through the rear view mirror.

"Don't watch us and you won't be swerving all over the place," Bowen snapped back, releasing me to sit back in his seat, mumbling expletives.

Reeve grumbled under his breath and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"It's like my mom says..." I trailed off, playing with the buttons on Thatcher's shirt.

Thatcher looked down at my hands, then back up at me.

"You gettin' fresh with me, sugar?" he flirted openly, holding himself perfectly still.

"You have a beautiful body," I blurted, saying whatever I thought, when I thought it, my mouth running away with me.

"You like this?" he preened, letting my hands roam over his chest freely, up and under his shirt.

"I don't like this," Ephraim growled, "You're asking her questions and she's not in a right mind right now. They gave her some kind of relaxing/calming shit to let them suture her up and you're taking advantage of it. Of
her
."

"I am not!" Thatcher protested.

He grunted when I pinched his nipples, shuddering underneath my touch.

He opened his eyes to find a truck full or irritated brothers, all glaring him down.

"Alright! Alright!" He sighed heavily. "Genevieve, my love," he took my hands in his and kissed the top of each one, laying it on thick, "My honey lamb..."

He grunted when Bowen reached over and slapped him upside the head.

"Ow, damn it! Keep your mitts off of me!" he grouched, rubbing at his sore noggin.

"Are you alright, my little cupcake?" I asked and burst out laughing, giggling hysterically, falling back against Reeve as I laughed myself silly.

"Cupcake," I guffawed.

The guys couldn't help it and chuckled a little too.

"At least she's not going on about me having a fat ass," Thatcher muttered, eyeing me petulantly.

"Awww. Don't be mad at me, sweet cheeks." I reached over to pinch his bum, making him jump when I got a good bit and wrenched hard.

"I take it back! I'd rather she was sober. Woman, would you quit it!" he complained, slapping my hands away.

"I think your fat ass is adorable."

That started another round of laughs, and a sulk from Thatcher.

I unbuckled and climbed into his lap, bypassing Reeve as he tried to thrust his arm out to stop me.

"I'm sorry, Lord Thatcher, rogue of the Harrison's," I chuckled, straddling him readily.