Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Char

“I told you, it’s none of your business.” If I prop my body against the door, maybe he’ll get the hint and leave.

His thick fingers curl around the frame. “That’s my daughter in there. I have a right to know who you’re whoring around with.” Matt’s teeth bare at the end of his snarl.

I had to leave to file registration records for a paint mare I sold, then had lunch with Libby.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t question you on who you spend your time with. We’re divorced, Matthew . You don’t have any control over me.” If my hair wasn’t already up in a messy bun, I’d flip it over my shoulder.

He was a jerk when we were married. Now, he’s a straight up asshole.

His dark brows draw lower over his eyes as he looks down at me. “I saw you, Char. Don’t fucking lie to me. You were all dolled up driving through town with that sundress that begs men to bend you over.”

When he pulls himself closer, stuffing his foot through the crack, I catch the scent of whiskey on his breath.

Shit.

A tendril of fear starts to tug at my stomach and curl through my chest.

“You think just because the ink is barely dry on those papers, that I’m not gonna keep an eye on what’s mine?” The corner of his lip raises like a dog catching a foul odor.

“Matt. I was just running some errands.” Forcing a calmness into my voice is a practiced survival mechanism with him. “I didn’t see anyone.” I know there’s no way I can hold him out if he pushes.

I’m too damn small. He can throw me around like a rag doll.

Experience has taught me this.

While the door still blocks his view, I slip my phone out of my back pocket and send Libby the code.

She’ll know what it means. I hope like hell it’s for nothing.

He bows his head, then his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. When he looks up, the anger is gone. “Baby, I just miss you. It’s killing me not getting to see you and Paisley.”

Ironic. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter during the court hearings.

He even said so.

I’ve heard this shit before. He always promises he’ll do better, but he never does.

It took me too long to figure that part out. “Maybe when things have cooled down a little, we can work out a play date?” At this point, I’ll say anything to get him to leave.

It took two police reports and a broken arm for me to finally get the divorce. He told me he’d take everything.

I guess I was lucky he got so rough. That’s the only reason I was able to keep my family farm.

“I don’t need your permission.” His features slacken, and the dead look in his eyes returns.

He drops his shoulder before I can back away and shoves the steel door against me.

The knob digs into my ribs as I’m thrown backwards to slam into the wall.

Gasping, I slump to the floor trying to regain my breath.

My lungs burn, but it’s overshadowed by the panic rioting through my chest.

Paisley.

“Let’s find whatever bitch you brought home, huh?” Matt snakes his fingers through my bound hair and jerks me hard enough it feels like needles in my scalp.

“Please, Matt? There’s no one else here!” I try not to cry out when he twists his fist, half raising me off of the tile.

“We’ll see. This is what you get, Char. Flaunting around like you’re trying to sell your ass. It’s a good thing I saw you today.” He drags me with him as he walks.

Trying to cling to his hand doesn’t help. My knee bangs hard enough into the table that it moves the heavy oak.

Dammit that hurts.

A shrill scream erupts from the bedroom. Matt turns and strides down the hall with me kicking along next to him, trying to keep the last of my hair from being yanked out.

“Who’s in there?” He stands in the entry while Paisley’s wails heighten.

She’s scared of him too.

“Maybe he’s hidden in our room?” Turning abruptly, he swings me around until my face meets the hard corner leading into the hall.

Pain explodes from my cheek and mouth.

It dulls Paisley’s cries. A throbbing heat forms in my lips, making the skin feel tight and hot.

I want to tell him this isn’t his house. I’m not his.

Now is not a good time.

A warm and wet feeling creeps down my chin and drips against my neck.

Blood.

“Huh, no one here. Except us. How ‘bout a fuck for old time’s sake?” He wrenches me up off of the floor and throws me across the end of the bed face down.

This can’t be happening.

The weight of his hand presses on my lower back.

I don’t want to move. But I want to flail and kick. Fight and bite.

He’d kill me.

Tamping down the panic that pounds in my chest, I only allow myself to ball my hands into fists beneath my belly.

Please be fast.

His nails scratch my hip as he digs at the waist of my jeans.

The best decision I could have ever made was to put them on when I went to the barn.

If I still had the dress on…I don’t want to think about it.

“Fuck. Take these off,” he slurs.

Knocking comes down the hall from the living room.

“Char? Are you here?” Libby calls out.

“Who the hell is that?” Matt lets go and backs away. “Libby? Get the hell out of my house!” he yells towards her voice.

“Matt? Screw you!” Her head appears first in the doorway, then her hand raises with a small pistol bared. “You get out! You know you aren’t welcome here any more!”

She may be tiny like me, but she’s tough as nails.

“Jesus, Libby. I was just making sure Char was okay.” His palms go up and he steps sideways.

They do an elaborate dance of avoidance until Matt is leaving and Libby is chasing him out outside.

A gunshot makes Paisley scream again.

My stomach twists. Did she just shoot him?

I wouldn’t be mad.

With a groan, I turn over enough to watch the door.

Who’s going to come to find me?

Libby. Thank God.

With her big blue eyes, broad floppy hat, and her light pink sundress, she looks more like a doll than the fierce friend who chased off my asshole ex.

“Char! Are you okay? Oh, geez. Look at your face, hun. No, don’t look at it.” She rushes in stroking my hair away from my eyes.

I don’t want to move. Everything hurts. My chest aches with each breath, my face is swelling so quickly it’s getting hard to see, and my leg feels like it’s being stabbed through my knee cap.

Just another Tuesday dealing with Matt.

Fuck.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” She drops her revolver into her purse and slings it over her shoulder. “Can you walk?”

“Paisley. Check on her, please?” I can still hear my daughter sobbing from the next room.

I hate that she’s witnessed this.

What am I supposed to do? I tried to do everything right, but he just keeps coming back.

And hurting me.

So far, he’s ignored her. How do I protect her?

Helplessness festers in me.

He’s so much bigger than me. Do I get a dog? I have a gun, but it didn't do any good in my nightstand.

Libby comes back carrying my red-faced daughter. Her chubby fingers are knotted in Libby’s blond hair, which she yanks on as she tries to reach for me.

“Mommy!” It’s a high pitched whine that only stops when Libby sits with her on the bed.

Damn, every piece of me twinges and aches when I try to move.

I’ll just lay here while my baby comes to me. Because I’m useless.

Broken.

Weak.

“It’s okay, baby girl.” Pulling Paisley close feels like spikes are being driven through me. I don’t care, she needs me.

“Hey.” Libby lights her hand on my arm. “Ready to go?”

I manage a tiny nod, blinking back the burning tears that threaten to spill over.

Giving Paisley a short hug, I kiss the top of her head before Libby helps me to push myself up.

Oh. My gosh. Streaks of agony ripple through my side and ribs.

I swear there’s a knife stabbing me through a lung when I stand.

My knee almost crumples.

“Jesus, Char,” Libby whispers. Her lean frame manages to hold me upright. I’m lucky she’s farm strong. “He did a number on you.”

“Yea,” I cough as a lightning bolt lances through me. “I was stupid to think this would stop after the divorce.”

“You need a restraining order.” Her arm wraps gingerly around my waist.

Paisley watches us, then her hands clasp the air as she follows. “Up, Mommy! Up!”

“Where are your keys?” Libby asks once we manage to make it to the living room.

I gesture vaguely to the basket on the table.

It’s a foot off from normal because of my swollen knee.

Libby darts over while I balance precariously on one leg. Even the slightest amount of weight on it makes me feel nauseous.

With Paisley on her hip, she holds my elbow until we get to the top of the small set of stairs of the porch. “Hold on, let me put her in her car seat.”

Libby leaves me to battle the rusty door of my Chevy pickup.

The damn thing is older than me. But at the moment, I’m pretty sure I feel like I have more miles on me than its quarter of a million.

I can’t quite make out the words she uses under her breath as she wrenches it open.

Must have been the right combination, because they worked.

Paisley starts whimpering when Libby belts her in, then soothes herself when Libby helps me hobble to the passenger side.

“This might hurt,” Libby grunts as she pushes my backside up high enough to slide into the dusty seat.

“Thank you,” I pant, bracing myself across the middle console. It’s hard to get a lungful of air sitting up straight.

She glances in the rearview at Paisley before firing up my beast of a truck.

Thank goodness it starts.

“You need to kill that asshole,” she whispers low over the roaring engine.

“And then what?” I grimace the words out. “I go to jail? What happens to Paisley?” I glance back at my baby. Her big blue eyes that match mine, stare back.

I’m glad she looks more like me than Matt. It’s selfish, but it’d make it hard to see his face every day.

Every bump makes my rib bones grind against each other. I have little doubt that Matt cracked a couple when he threw the door against me.

The sun is low enough in the July sky to remind me that it’s only been a few short hours since Libby and I were laughing over iced coffee, having the best day.

I hate how quickly that can change.

“We’re here. I’ll be right back.” Libby shoulders her way out of the driver’s seat and disappears.

Paisley doesn’t fuss. I wonder if she knows we’re safe at the clinic?

The air is sucked from the cab when my door swings open. “I brought a nurse to help. I’ll get the baby. She’s gonna take you straight back, okay hun?” She reaches up and pats my leg before whisking around the side of the truck.

Libby is the most amazing person I could ever hope for.

Tears sting my eyes as a set of hands and a soft voice encourages me into the wheelchair on the curb.

I’m so useless, I can barely drag myself into the vinyl chair. My arms try to give out when I push myself up.

“You’re doing great. I got you.” I can’t see the face who’s talking to me, she’s on my blind side since my cheek has swollen so much.

At the mercy of strangers.

Here I am, begging for help because I couldn’t take care of myself.

The cracks in the sidewalk make a rhythmic bump that jolts into my chest before the cold blast of air washes over me. There’s usually an antiseptic smell, but my nose is too clogged with dried blood for it to register.

“I’m going to take you to room three.” The nurse turns towards Libby. “Has she been here before? Can you get her registered?”

“Yes, and yes. Will I be able to stay with her afterwards?” Libby bounces Paisley as she answers.

She’d make a better mom than me. Look how badly I keep messing up?

“Yes, that’s fine.” The anonymous nurse nods towards a clerk who opens the big double doors leading into the emergency room.

Pulling a curtain around me, I finally get to see the soft brown eyes of the woman who helped me in. “I’m going to need to get you changed into a gown. Do you think you can help me? I can cut these off if it hurts too badly.” She makes a broad gesture at my body.

I’m going to be sick.

Beat up, and my clothes will be ruined?

I don’t even want to think about the new hospital bills.

My button down shirt and bra come off easily. She drapes the thin cotton over me before helping me work my bloodied jeans off.

Damn. My knee looks twice its normal size.

Her brows knit as she watches me. “Where all does it hurt?”

I’m not sure if its shock setting in, or just knowing I’m no longer in danger, but the tears that had been swelling start to fall. My throat feels like it’s closing off and I bite back a sob.

With a trembling finger I start pointing.

Head.

Ribs.

Belly.

Leg.

Everywhere.

My pride. Does that count?

Can they fix a wounded soul in the hospital?

Patch it up so I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore?

She quietly jots down something on her tablet, then sets it down. “I need to put this on to take your vitals.” The ripping sound of the velcro cuff echoes within our curtained room.

Obediently, I hold out my arm, open my mouth for the thermometer, extend a finger for the oxygen sensor.

Like a guinea pig.

She tapes some wires to my chest, and must see my eyebrow go up.

“This is to check your heart since you said your chest hurt.”

The mountains and valleys of the beats appear with a beep on a computer screen next to me. A patient ID code is all it has on there.

That’s me.

Digits.

How many other numbers come in like me?

She slides the plastic rod from under my tongue and clicks the cover into the garbage. “Let me get the doctor.”

When I hear the slide of the curtain, I close my eyes.

If I squeeze hard enough, maybe I’ll wake up to find this is all a nightmare.

My nurse and a deep voice are having a discussion, but I can’t understand the words.

Yet I can hear the anger in his tone.

Shit. This isn’t my fault.

When the partition is ripped away, a towering man with dark hair and mustache stands in its place, blocking the light.

His navy blue scrubs grip his body like they’re a size too small.

When he leans closer, I can see his honey colored eyes narrow and his sharp jaw tighten.

“Who did this to you?” he growls.