Page 22 of Feels Like Forever (Undercover Lovers #6)

RONNIE

“ R ory, honey. I don’t think I can clean you up much more. How do you feel about taking a shower?” I ask softly, afraid she’ll break down at any moment to the point where it’ll take a toll on her already beat-up body.

“Yeah, this is really bad, isn’t it?” She looks at me. Most adults would lie. I’m not most, and I’m unable to do so now.

“Do you want the truth?” I give her the option.

Rory nods in response. “It’s not ideal, and I’m hoping your brother doesn’t go off half-cocked and get himself some pretty, silver bracelets.

Then again, I’d be there every day to visit him and bake him a cake full of nail files.

” Rory cracks a smile, and I continue on, “But your brother is smart. He’s got a great group of friends.

And until we hear from him, all we can do is hope for the best.” I hold my hand out, more than ready to guide her into the bathroom.

I’m sure washing her hair will be impossible.

Rinsing it might be the only thing she can tackle for today.

“Yeah, I hope he’s dead. I hope Mom used whatever she could to her advantage and took him out. People like him don’t deserve to walk free. All they’re good for is fertilizer in the ground.” The vehemence in her statement reminds me of how Jude sounded earlier.

“I agree.” Rory slides off the barstool, hitting the tile floor harder than I’d have liked.

Especially since she doesn’t have any shoes on her feet.

“How far away do you live from here?” She’s wearing a baggy shirt and shorts, no shoes, only socks.

I’m assuming her phone wasn’t in reaching distance to call anyone.

That, or she was running on adrenaline, and her focus was on getting to Jude.

“In a car, like, ten minutes. Walking and running more like thirty minutes.” She looks away from me, probably worried I’ll judge her, but that’s definitely not the case.

“Damn,” I reply as we walk through the house. I’m mentally cataloguing what I have here at Jude’s place that she can wear after her shower. Rory is smaller than me, but I should have a pair of shorts she can fold over, and there’s always a shirt of Jude’s she can use as a top.

“Yeah, I know calling the cops might have been a better idea. Except we’ve gone that route before, and nothing helped.

A restraining order is nothing but a glorified piece of paper.

The cops show up, he’s gone, and then all they can do is make a note.

Mom went to court, tried to tell the judge that this would never help and she was scared not only for me and herself.

Mom, she’s selfless, worrying about other women and kids he would do this to.

” We make it into the bathroom. I turn on the water, making sure the temperature is lukewarm.

My brother used to get into fights with other boys in the neighborhood.

They’d make some kind of smart remark about me, and Zane would lose his shit.

I tried to hold him back too many times, until I finally would tell him he’s being stupid.

When I’d rush to the bar to tell Dad, he’d shrug his shoulders and say, “Serves ‘em right.”

“You did what you had to do with what you had to work with.” I keep my eyes averted, giving her a semblance of privacy while she attempts to undress.

“Ronnie, I can’t do this on my own.” The bathroom fills with steam, and I abandon keeping my back to her while she wrestles with her emotions.

“Well, you won’t ever have to,” I state, more than likely overstepping my boundaries since this is Jude’s sister, but ask me if I care.

“Thank you. I kind of meant getting my clothes off.” A tiny smile appears for what I’m sure is the first time all day.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll help you. Shirt first?” I ask, glad she won’t attempt to do this on her own and potentially make her injuries worse.

“Please.”

“Alright, we’re going to do one arm, stretch the shirt out a bit, and then go from there.

Let me know if it gets to be too much. I can always grab a pair of scissors and cut the fabric.

” In fact, the nurses at the hospital would do the same.

I really do think Rory should see a doctor.

Broken ribs could lead to punctured lungs, and while I’ve cleaned my fair share of bumps and scrapes, this is way out of my comfort zone.

“I will,” she replies. We go through the process of getting her undressed.

I’m trying to be gentle while biting my tongue when more marks appear on the sides of her body.

The shirt clears her head, and I toss it to the ground.

And while I’d love nothing more than to burn them to a fiery crisp, I’ll end up washing them, just in case.

“Shorts now? Then I’ll give you a towel to hold up while we work on your undergarments.

The socks may be a problem. We can always have you get in the water, allow them to soak, and loosen them up a smidge in order to pull them off.

” A few minutes later, with a lot of hissing from Rory, she’s stepping into the shower while looking longingly at the tub.

Her hand stays in mine, the towel wrapped around her torso being held by the underside of her arms. When I get a glimpse of her back, it’s just as bad as the front.

Jesus, I really hope Jude does a number on the piece of shit.

“I’m good from here,” Rory mutters. Her socks came off easier than expected, the only plus I’ve seen out of this whole ordeal.

“I’ll go grab you some clothes of mine and Jude’s. I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot here for you to choose from.” I pull another towel out of the cabinet for her hair. The one she had wrapped around her body is now hanging on a hook right near the shower stall.

“Thank you, Ronnie.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t get out on your own.

I’m sure you’re more than capable, I’d feel better being near, at least,” I say before I’m out the door.

She makes a hum as a response, and I call it good.

Rory will more than likely crash after her shower.

I’m also going to offer her some over-the- counter pain reliever, and maybe by then, we’ll hear something from Jude.

My mind is frazzled. I bounce from one area to the other, gathering things here and there, forgetting what I need, and have to backtrack.

I grab my phone off the couch and look at the screen with a fleeting glance.

There’s no message from Jude, so, either no news is good news, or he’s yet to have a chance to text.

I say a little something to keep everyone involved safe and go check on our girl.

Once I’m back in the bathroom, it doesn’t take long to get Rory out, dried off, dressed, and her hair brushed.

The proof of her crying is written in her bloodshot eyes.

Then there was the sniffling, and I really wanted to pull her into my arms to hug her.

But she’d been through way too much. Added with the vibes rolling off her, I could more than sense any type of affection wouldn’t be well received.

Now we’re in the living room. I’m sitting on the couch, and the television is on.

Flashes of different colors light up the screen, and the volume is as low as possible.

When I asked what Rory wanted to watch, she shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal answer.

I scrolled through channel after channel until she made a noise when I landed on a cartoon.

So, we watched it while she ate a few crackers, took the two pain relievers I dropped in her hand, and downed a bottle of water.

The adrenaline dropped shortly after she relaxed. A pile of blankets is surrounding her. The weight and warmth all around her made her breathing deepen, along with soft snores, as her head is propped up on a pillow on the other end of the couch .

I pick my phone up, worry settling deep in my bones with every minute that goes by that I don’t hear from Jude.

I’m about to pull up our message thread to ask for an update when I hear the garage door opening, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

As much as I’d like to move from my place on the couch, it might be impossible not to jar Rory when I move.

She has her feet on my lap, and anytime I had to readjust to get comfortable, I’ve felt a slight twitch from her.

I’m not used to sitting in one place for so long unless it’s on the floor to play a video game.

I’m at war with myself yet again. Do I wake her up to tell her Jude’s home, or do I remain quiet and sit still. The choice is taken off my hands when Rory pops up, and she’s tackling the covers off her body when she hears the door close behind a devastated Jude.

“No, no, no,” Rory chants over and over again, hands covering her face, turning into herself.

Jude goes right to his sister and scoops her up in his arms, holding her tightly without saying a word.

The only way to describe the scene before my eyes is total devastation.

Tears form, and no matter how much I try to blink them away, nothing stops them from sliding down my cheeks.

I can hear the soft murmurings coming from Jude.

“She’s gone. I’m so sorry, Rory, so fucking sorry.

” The hushed tones echo throughout the living room.

I stay still, watching as this utterly strong man tries to get himself together.

His walls are slowly crumbling, and nobody, not a single person in this world, would blame him for allowing himself to cry.

“It’s my fault. I left. I ran away,” Rory’s tone is one of anguish as she attempts to pull away from Jude, using her fists to pound at his chest. He lets her get it out. What he doesn’t do is stop holding her.

“Rory, she told you to come to me. She told you to get away. She was protecting you, doing the best she could to make sure you were safe. Don’t take that away from her.

” I can tell he’s not getting through to her.

I’d expect nothing less. Nobody in this situation is going to listen to anything when their whole world has been taken away.

“God, please, no,” Rory wails in between sobs. Jude starts slowly rocking her in his lap, making shushing noises, and through it all, he remains the pillar of strength for his sister.