Page 143 of Preacher Man

Preacher didn't catch the sarcasm. He was busy striding across the shop to grab his cell from his jacket pocket. Saw there was no message from her. His forehead got tight. "Yeah, thanks," he told Grinder. Just as he had Ruby's number pulled up the thing shrilled in his hand, like fucking kismet or something sappy like that. Her name right there on the screen. He answered before it could even ring twice. "Ruby?"

"Asher." She was crying, sobbing actually, her voice distorted with emotion. His fucking heart plummeted.

God, not the kid. Please, don't let it be the kid, Ruby would be destroyed.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"I need you, Asher."

She needed him. The words affected him more than any words ever had. He was already stripping out of his work coveralls, dumping them on the floor. "Baby, I'm on my way, where you at?"

"Asher. I don't---I can't---I need you." The sobbing grew harder, the noise terrible to listen to when he was miles away and couldn't pull her into his arms and protect her from harm. Preacher's chest wall caved in hearing that despair.

"I gotta know where you are, Ruby. I'm on my way, okay? Just tell me."

"I'm at home. Rita. Asher ... my sister is gone."

Oh. Fuck.

"The kid?" he asked.

It took her a long beat of a minute to answer, by which time Preacher was already straddled on his bike. "He's okay. My sister. I can't breathe. Please. I don't know what to do ---"

"Baby, I'm coming to you, stay right where you are, I won't be long."

Longest ride ever.

He made good timing all considering, broke a few traffic laws along the way, and found her front door unlocked and Ruby in her sleep shorts and a pink tank top, frantically tossing clothes into a suitcase, her bare face streaked with tears, which only intensified when she saw him bracketed in the doorway, he came to her right away, five heavy steps into her bedroom, he counted, it took him five steps to get over to her, five long fucking steps before he had her in his arms he swept her up, pulled her in, holding her as tightly as he could while his old lady fell apart, she just crumbled, crying with her heart breaking in sobs.

"I'm so sorry, baby."

"She's gone. I don't. I can't---I can't think."

Only when she'd cried herself out did he draw her away, brushed the tears from under her eyes, rimmed red, swollen and overflowing, and she was still the most beautiful women ever. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" his fingers outstretched for her.

******

They were no slight to pride or self-sufficiency by asking for help, leaning on a person who offered their hand.

Ruby; the caregiver, the caretaker, it was a strange sensation in her mind to be the one asking, but she didn’t give it a second thought as she watched him stride across the room, his face taut and sympathetic.

Without second guessing herself, she reached out and let Preacher take her hand, feeling that rough calloused warmth enfold around her fingers and she let the sobs come, tears curtaining her vision. All her walls crumbled, left with no defense system in place, too broken to fashion a wall, her heart was torn to shreds to pretend she wasn’t feeling anything, she was feeling everything and it was killing her. What did she do now? What would happen to Sebastian? Her sister was gone. The police officer on the other end of the phone had said so, she believed him and yet didn’t believe him. How could it be true?

Her heart sped up. She pressed harder into Preacher’s chest, his hand so strong on her back coasted up and down.

It was okay to lean on him.

And she began to gorge on the care he was giving.

“Will you help me, Asher, please? I don’t know what to do.” Plastered to his chest, he held her there, stroking her spine. And just like that, he replied softly. “Of course, I will, beautiful. Anything. Just tell me what you need.”

She’d never known asking for help was so simple and yet so terrifying. Vulnerable. She showed him all her pain and he held it in his hands.

The worse thing about being so strong is no one ever asked how you were. Ruby had gotten used to it, somehow desensitized, but Preacher asked like he really wanted to know and cared for her answer.

“I don’t even know.” She hiccupped scraping a hand over her eyes. “She sent me a weird text, her usual, how she can’t cope with Seb and was giving him to me.”

“Hold up. She said she was letting you have her son?”