5. Jett

5

JETT

“ I t’s meant for me.”

What the hell is she talking about? How does Rowan know these fuckers? Are they the reason for the fear in her eyes?

So many questions race through my mind but I’ll have to wait for the answers. Right now, my focus is solely on getting Rowan to safety.

I look her over, assessing the damage. She has a few cuts and scrapes, particularly on her right hand where she was holding the coffee pot. The back of her shirt is torn where she was hit with the rock.

Jesus, my gut sinks and my vision goes red at the thought of Rowan in pain. If I stayed in my seat I could have shielded her or warned her to duck down. I hate that I wasn’t here. I vow to never leave her vulnerable again. Not with men like Hell’s Scoundrels chasing after her.

“Can you stand up?” I ask, holding out a hand to help her.

“I think so,” Rowan whispers, slipping her cold, trembling hand in mine. When her knees give out, I’m right there to scoop her up in my arms. “Sorry,” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as if I’m going to be upset with her.

“You’re not in trouble, angel,” I reassure her as I step over the larger shards of glass on my way to the front of the diner. “I’ve got you. I’m here now. I won’t let them hurt you anymore,” I soothe.

“Wait,” she calls out just before I reach the door to the parking lot. “I still have half of my shift left.”

“Honey, we’re closed for the day,” her manager says as she stands from her crouched position behind the counter. “I gotta clean, patch up the window, file a police report, check in on the customers… and probably a bunch of other things I’m not thinking of at the moment.”

“I can help,” Rowan offers. While I love my woman’s big heart and solid work ethic, right now, she needs someone to take care of her for a change. She was assaulted for Christ’s sake.

“I’m taking you home,” I tell her firmly. “You need rest.”

She’s about to protest but I give her a stern look. Tears well up in her gorgeous eyes, nearly ripping my heart out. Everything in me softens as I cradle my precious girl closer to my chest.

“Do you trust me, Rowan?” I ask, holding my breath as I wait for her response.

Her eyes dart between mine, her violet gaze sinking deep into my soul and picking it apart, piece by piece. Finally, she nods. “I do,” she whispers. She silently pleads with me to be gentle with her and not break her heart. Rowan has no idea how far I would go to keep her fragile heart safe but I’ll show her day by day she can trust me.

When we get out to the parking lot, I set Rowan down on her feet, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her. “You okay to ride?” I ask, tilting my chin toward my motorcycle.

“I’ve never been on a bike before but I said I trust you, so… yes?”

I grin down at her, happy to hear her confirm her trust in me. After pressing a kiss to her forehead - my new favorite thing - I get on my bike and instruct Rowan to climb on behind me. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly when the bike rumbles to life.

I know I should call the Prez and update him on what happened today, but first I need to find out how Rowan is wrapped up in all of this. She said she’s never been on a bike, so I’m guessing she hasn’t been around Hell’s Scoundrels for long.

As I turn left out of the diner parking lot, I feel Rowan trying to hold in her sobs as the reality of the day and what she's been through finally sink in. I take my time, riding slower than I normally would to ensure she won't be bumped or rattled too much. She has to be in pain.

When we pull into the driveway of my ranch-style house, I hold out my hand and guide Rowan to swing her leg over and dismount, using me as support. I do the same, resting a hand on her hip when I see she’s slightly shaking. It could be from the incident at the diner or from her first time on a bike. Either way, I have the strongest urge to wrap her up in a blanket and hold her on my lap until she falls asleep.

Once inside, I guide Rowan to the kitchen table and encourage her to sit in one of the chairs while I grab the first aid kit I keep in my bathroom. I pull up a seat next to her and hold out my left hand, palm facing up. She rests her right hand in mine, and I wince when I see a few cuts littered across her pale skin.

I carefully clean each cut before placing a dot of antibiotic cream and a bandage over them. Rowan doesn’t say a single word the entire time, though her shaky breath lets me know she’s still in a bit of a shock. I reach for her other hand, pleased to see no damage.

“Thank you,” I say softly, lifting her injured hand to my lips and placing a light kiss over her knuckles. She tilts her head to the side, her purple eyes filled with questions. “Thank you for letting me take care of you.” Rowan blinks in confusion, which tugs at my goddamn heartstrings.

I place her hand in her lap, then motion for her to turn and show me her back where the rock hit her. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip and looking away from me.

“We’ll be done after this, I promise. I just need to see the wound.”

“I can take care of it,” she offers. Her words come out in a rush and I get the sense that she doesn’t want me to see her back for some reason. “Really. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a bruise that will heal soon enough.”

“Rowan,” I start, though I’m not sure what to follow up with.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for years now. Pretty much my whole life,” she continues. “I can certainly handle a little bruise.”

“But you’re bleeding,” I inform her, pointing to the small line of red seeping through her shirt.

“Merely a flesh wound,” she says, trying to make a joke with an old movie reference.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, not for the first time today.

Rowan pauses, her face growing serious as those brilliant eyes meet mine. This woman is one secret after another, but I don’t mind. Each new discovery is just one more piece of the puzzle. One more piece of her soul. One more piece of her to love.

Holy shit. Love ?

I let the word settle deep down within me, coursing through my body and electrifying every cell. Yes, love. That feels right. I love Rowan more with every breath, every beat of my heart.

“I trust you,” she mouths, her voice gone at the moment.

Rowan adjusts in her chair so her back is facing me. I gently lift up the hem of her shirt, hissing when I see the jagged cut from the rock. It’s not too deep, but it pisses me off all the same. After grabbing an antiseptic wipe, a large gauze pad, and some medical tape to hold it in place, I lift Rowan’s shirt again, higher this time to give me more room to work.

What I see makes me tense and curse under my breath.

Giant scars crisscross over her skin, the white, jagged lines running from top to bottom, as well as what appears to be burn marks. Rowan curls her shoulders up and ducks her head in shame, curling in on herself as she bears the work of what I'm guessing is her father's abuse on the canvas of her back.

I focus on the task at hand, needing to get her patched up before we have another discussion. My girl has been through a lot today, and if she isn’t ready to tell me anything about her old scars, then she doesn’t have to. I’ll be here whenever she’s comfortable sharing that part of her story.

“He whipped me with his belt when I disobeyed,” she whispers. I pause, my hand hovering over her cut. I’m shaking with rage at the man who harmed her, but I take a breath and calm the hell down so she can continue. “He had a big silver belt buckle with a cowboy riding a bull from his days in the rodeo. He wore that thing everywhere even though he got injured early on in his career and had to retire. It made for a brutal but effective weapon when he wanted it to be.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur as I place the gauze pad over her cut and secure it with medical tape.

“Sometimes his friends threw cigar or cigarette butts at me, jeering and encouraging my father. She deserves it. A whore just like her mother. ” Rowan inhales sharply, holding in a sob. “I never even knew my mom. How could I be like her? I haven’t dated or kissed or–”

She cuts herself off, turning to look at me over her shoulder. My mind is still reeling from her confession of how her father treated her and I almost don't register her last remark. I haven’t dated or kissed or…

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she rushes to say. “That was like… that was a ton of information that you didn’t ask for and didn’t want and I can’t believe I just rambled like that…”

I pull Rowan’s shirt down, not wanting her to feel more exposed or vulnerable than she already does. I get off of my chair and kneel in front of her, placing one hand on her knee while the other slowly reaches out to cup her face. I give her plenty of time to pull away, but instead, she welcomes my touch.

I brush her tears away with my thumb, tenderly grazing her skin in what I hope is a calming gesture. “Never apologize for sharing a piece of your story with me,” I tell her, meaning every single word. “I’m so sorry you grew up like that. I can’t imagine…” I look away, shaking my head. I can’t fathom treating my sister like that, or anyone, for that matter. How could her own father degrade her and lay hands on her in anger? Why didn’t he protect her and nurture her?

“It’s over now,” Rowan says, pulling my attention back to her. “Or, at least I hoped it was. After today, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“You can be sure of me , angel. I won't let you down and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. Fuck, the thought of someone beating you…" I growl and wipe a hand down my face.

To my shock, Rowan places her hand over mine where I’m still cupping her cheek. “I’m here now, with you, remember?” she whispers.

“Yes, you are,” I agree. We both take a few breaths together, soaking in this moment.

Rowan yawns, breaking the intensity and making me smile. She’s so damn adorable as she blinks her heavy eyelids.

"Let's get you set up in the guest bedroom," I suggest. "I'll lay out some clean clothes for you to wear for the night, and then we can hit up your place tomorrow for some of your things."

“Hold up, we didn’t discuss me moving in with you,” she halfheartedly protests.

I stand and hold my hand out for her, helping her to her feet as well. “We can start with one night and see how you feel,” I offer. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight for the night, so either you stay here or I’ll come crash at your place.”

Rowan narrows her eyes at me, but I see a grin hiding just beneath the surface. She likes it when I take care of her, she's just not sure how to accept it. "Fine. But just for tonight."

“We’ll see,” is all I say in response. She rolls her eyes at me and I just smile as I guide her to the guest room.

Thirty minutes later, Rowan is sound asleep. It took all of five minutes to convince her to lie down for a bit. As I pace in front of the closed door to the guest room, I wonder where to go from here. How can I get more of her story and how can I convince her to stay with me for good?