Passion in Bloom (Hometown Heartstrings #2)

Chapter 6

Roarke

W hy is she protecting him?

I stewed over that one specific question the whole drive back to my cabin. Anger had my jaw aching with how tightly I clenched it. Frustration filled me with a sense of impatience.

It didn’t matter if Todd was there. Or Marty. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about David.

Why?

She was so clearly scared and unhappy with him showing up here at all. The only consistencies were that she refused to explain anything and that she wasn’t with him. That left far too many blanks to fill in, and I hated how badly I wanted to know more. To know it all. Just so I could make sure she wasn’t scared any longer.

Did he blackmail her or something?

What can he hold over her that would make her this stubborn?

I shook my head as I drove and let out a deep exhale. It wouldn’t do me any good to let these questions fester, but it wasn’t easy to turn off these questions and worry.

Sure, she was stubborn. Independent as hell. But I doubted it could be something like pride that would make her so adamant about no one helping her. Given what Gavin told me about her past, about her parents being awful mooches no one liked in Burton, it almost made sense. That she’d be so against having the label as needy that she’d go overboard in keeping her life tidy and without help. That she’d rail against the thought of anyone thinking they needed to help her because she wanted to prove she didn’t need anyone.

But she’s got to have common sense, too.

She had to realize that some people were better handled with a team effort, right?

The best that I could determine, she ran from Chicago to hide here, to get away from David. Running and hiding only worked for so long, and it didn’t seem like she’d revised her strategy in how she’d handle that arrogant asshole.

I parked at my cabin, frowning at the huge hole dug into the ground closer to another cabin in the distance. Todd had arranged for a crew to come out and inspect whatever issue was happening with the bigger water pipes off the main, and I hoped that it wouldn’t interfere with my cabin.

Before I walked into my place, I saw my phone ringing with a call from Marty.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to give you a heads up. I saw Nevaeh walking down the path.”

Great. That’s just fucking great. It wasn’t as though I was lacking a headache now.

“She didn’t look too well. Looked like she was sick or something,” Marty added. “But when I slowed down to check on her, she flipped me off and told me to go the fuck away.”

I groaned. “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, you don’t answer for her. She’s an adult.”

“Still, she doesn’t have a right to be that disrespectful.”

“Eh. That’s the least of my worries. Look, I’m going to keep an eye on this situation with Heather—”

“What situation, though? Like you said, your hands are tied. Until he does something, until she speaks up...”

“That feels like a dangerous waiting game to play,” he countered. “I’ll keep an eye out. See if I can’t find him to have a talk.”

“You don’t know where he’s staying?” I asked. I didn’t see how he’d lack that information. Burton was only so big.

“No. He didn’t say where he was staying when I asked. Said it wasn’t my business.”

I supposed it wasn’t—until he escalated. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Neither do I, but that’s how these things can sometimes go with domestic violence.”

Domestic violence didn’t belong as a descriptor for Heather. Not on my watch.

“But she’s not being open,” he reminded me unnecessarily.

“I know. I know ,” I agreed. “And I don’t think we’ll win any favors pressuring her.”

He chuckled. “Hey, man. I’m happily married. I’m not looking to win favors with her.”

I cringed, recalling how awkward I felt when I blurted about Heather and I keeping tabs on each other. Favors didn’t sound right.

“I’m not either. But maybe not push her too hard.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted the hopefulness in them. I was still hanging on to the hope that she would want to open up to me. That this draw wasn’t a one-sided phenomenon between us.

“Of course,” he said. Yet, I doubted he’d shirk in doing his job.

After I hung up with him and tossed my keys to my table, a weak knock sounded on the front door. Already armed with the heads up from Marty that my niece was coming my way, I was prepared for her to want something from me again.

The sight of her with hunched shoulders nearly got to me, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. This wasn’t my first experience with a woman trying to look like a victim just to better manipulate me into giving her what she wanted.

“Rough night?” I guessed, despite it being almost five-thirty in the evening now.

“I’m not old enough to drink,” she sassed with venom in her tone.

“I doubt that would stop you.” I held the door open wider.

“Jeez. Can you manage to not hate my guts for like three seconds? Kick me when I’m down, huh?”

“I’ve never hated you. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

She was always combative, and while I was used to it, my patience was shot. My tolerance for her bullshit was depleted.

“You coming in or not?” I asked, holding the door open wider.

“I don’t know. Am I even welcome?” she sneered.

“Take it or leave it. You’re family and I will always offer you my couch,” I growled. “But I am in no mood for your crap today. I’ve had it with your attitude, acting like you’re the innocent victim no matter what.”

She burped, covering her mouth, and I groaned as I hurried to get the trash can.

“Here.” I thrust it at her as she walked in.

“I’m not hungover,” she said snarkily as she headed to the couch and slumped on it.

“Sick?” I guessed. That wasn’t farfetched. Eric, and a couple of other guys, were out sick at the ranch. This was the season for germs to spread and take hold, after all.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. The motion concerned me even more, giving me a clearer view of how skinny she was.

“Fuck, Nevaeh. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Recently.”

I frowned. “Is it food poisoning?”

She shrugged.

Damn this shit! I crossed my arms, trying to not lash out. A roar built in my chest, full of all the fury at no one fucking saying anything. Heather. Her. Why did people have to be like this?

“Where have you been staying?” I asked, skeptical that she had the funding to be renting a place around Burton.

“Around.”

“What have you been doing?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Back off. Can’t you see that I don’t feel good?”

Can’t you tell that I’m asking because I care?

I debated the wisdom of caring, though. It seemed she’d never heard of the phrase of not biting the hand that feeds, but I simply didn’t have the energy to get into this with her.

Why can’t anyone just be honest anymore?

“I’m going to shower,” she mumbled when I held in my temper and watched her for a long moment instead of replying.

I thought back to all the welfare programs I’d looked up for her. Links to applications for government assistance. Job searching advice. All the ways I’d wanted to help her redirect the sorry, sad path of life she was taking.

For her own safety and well-being, she couldn’t go on like this. But I didn’t understand why I’d be so deluded to think she’d listen or care.

This was like striking out. Twice in too short of a time.

Heather was stubbornly against letting anyone in to help her be safe from David.

Nevaeh had been born to argue with any productive suggestion I could tell her.

“What?” she snapped, eyeing me with a defensive glare when she stood and headed to the bathroom.

“If you look at any of the programs I tell you about, if you check out the welfare options, you wouldn’t have to stagger through town with a damn bike to take a shower. You’d have a job, your own place—”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m sick of the idea of ‘welfare’ crap. They don’t care about me. I’m just a number.” As she walked slowly, giving me her back, she added, “I’ll take care of myself as I see fit.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I didn’t follow her. “From my standpoint, you’re not taking care of yourself at all.”

“I’m not a child, Roarke,” she whined.

“All I see is that you have the time and money to color your hair.”

She shook her head, mumbling something as she moved further away.

At a complete loss of what to say, how to feel, and what I could do, I gave up. For this moment, I had to. I couldn’t keep going at her like this. It was like talking to a freaking wall.

“The water’s been acting a little funny lately,” I warned her, resigned to let her have a moment to clean up. Maybe once she was warmed up, she’d feel better and might listen.

Yeah, right.

I rolled my eyes, sitting in my chair and letting the familiar anger simmer.

It seemed that karma wasn’t done with playing the most epic prank on me.

All I’d wanted was to enjoy the peace of no drama, and here I was, wedged in place between two sources of it from the niece who’d never listen and the woman who pushed me away.