Archive of Our Own

Beth was only awake, because her bladder was screaming, after refusing to go before crawling into bed next to Rip a few hours before. She was reluctant to move. She loved the warmth his body offered. The immediate safety she felt, curling into his side, but she couldn’t avoid moving forever. She tried to be careful, as she rolled to her more injured side, biting her lip to suppress the whimper and groan that wanted to fill the room. Her ribs and back on the right side felt more painful and bruised than right after it happened. She could barely take a breath when she moved or coughed wrong. She could still barely walk by herself without her right hip feeling like it was on fire. Rip usually helped her during the day, which he wasn’t supposed to be doing, but she couldn’t stop him. She chose to suffer alone at night. He would always remind her before falling asleep, to wake him, if she needed help, if she was hurting. She never did. The thought never even crossed her mind. Not even when she pushed herself from the bed, and the pain ran sharp and violent up her spine. She wanted to vomit. Her head spun for a few seconds, but eventually settled. It was the same every night, but she still wasn’t used to it. She wanted to reach for Rip, but knew he had just gotten back in bed, and needed to do it on her own. If she could go to the office, she could walk across the room without help.

It didn’t take her long to pee and climb back into bed. She tried not to pull the blanket or dip the mattress too much. Rip was exhausted, and hissing in pain when he laid back next to her. He hadn’t been sleeping well between her nightmares and his own pain. Every little movement or sound usually had her cowboy startling awake. Looking for her, as if she were going to disappear any moment. Saying her name, before his eyes were even open. Reaching for her, before she could ask for comfort and affection.

She watched him, as he pretended to be asleep, or had actually dozed back off in the few minutes she was in the bathroom. His face was so peaceful. The stress lines and furrowed brows were relaxed. His shoulders and back weren’t tense and prepared for a fight. His breathing wasn’t coming in sharp pants like he was terrified someone was gonna hurt her again. He was so calm, so beautifully handsome, she couldn’t help the few tears that slid down her cheek. As she went to wipe them away, she felt his hand cover hers, run lightly up her arm, before his eyes slowly opened. “Hey...” she whispered, as his fingers touched her cheek. The deep sigh that left his chest, as his eyes scanned the more damaged side of her face, made her want to hide. She knew he couldn’t see much more than he had in the shower, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think he didn’t look at her while she slept. She knew he had time to examine every mark on her face, while she wasn’t aware. It didn’t bother her, because she didn’t have to see the look in his eyes. It was when she was awake, and not wanting to see the heartbreak, that she hid herself away. Looking everywhere, but his face. Letting her long hair hide most of the bruising.

It took a few seconds for Rip’s eyes to adjust to the increased darkness. He hadn’t realized she’d finally turned the bathroom light off after two weeks. It had become their only form of light she would allow. She refused to let him or Jamie open the curtains. She wouldn’t let the overhead or night stand light be turned on. But he could still see the sweet, watery, tired smile on her face. He could still see her chin trembling from the little light that came through the cracks in the window, and under her bedroom door. He could still see her struggling to control the panic in her chest. It had been the same every night. “God...I wish they’d come back to life, so I could kill them again,” he said softer than he felt, as he caressed her cheek, brushed the hair from her face. Watching her turn and kiss his palm, the tips of his fingers. He wanted to kill them over and over again. He wanted to rip them apart with his bare hands. He wanted to make them suffer for days, while he watched. It wouldn’t make what happened to her any better, it wouldn’t even make himself feel any less guilt, but it’s what they deserved.

Beth didn’t know what to say, she never did in the middle of the night, when she was so afraid her insides were trembling. She knew he would kill them, torture them for days if he had to chance. He would tear the world apart for her. But that’s not what she needed. It wouldn’t make the marks on her face disappear. It wouldn’t calm the flashes and voices in her head. It wouldn’t make any difference whether they lived or died that day. It wouldn’t matter if he could kill them over and over again. The damage was done. “That would be your wish," she whispered, letting him carefully pull her into his arms. Her cheek on his warm chest. Her thigh slowly sliding over his. The scent of his skin, sweat; the feel of his heart pounding under her hand. She could feel his strong arm against her back, his hand stroking down her bruised ribs. His lips were so soft on her forehead she barely felt him. “Does it hurt?” she whispered, as he grabbed his side. A quick, low moan left his chest, as he adjusted his hip. She wanted to make the pain go away. She wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. She wanted him to relax, and sleep without waking in agony every time he moved. She wished he’d take the pain meds the vet gave him. She was lucky he took the antibiotics. She wanted to make it where it never happened. She should have called her father and Kaycee instead, but knew, they would have brought him along just because it was her.

Rip couldn’t help pulling her close, kissing her skin for a minute more. Smelling the conditioner in her hair. Feeling the weight of her thigh relax against his. Her cold foot moving slowly up and down his calf. Her fingers making random patterns across his chest. It had been two weeks since John and Beth had the EMTs bring him to her room while he was still unconscious. He woke up confused a few hours later, with her sleeping peacefully next to him. The right side of her face was swollen, bruised and cut. The blackness around her eye and nose were so severe, he didn’t know how nothing was broken. He didn’t care what her face looked like. He knew she would, but he couldn’t care less. He did, but not for the reasons she might think. He cared that someone lacked the morals and soul to do what they did to her. He cared she was in visible pain. He didn't care that she didn't look like she did the day before, because to him, she did. Under the bruises and fear, she was still Beth. She was still the love of his life. Why he decided he had to suddenly go back to the bunkhouse, he still had no idea. It was selfish thinking. “Yeah, but I’m okay. Hurts like a bee sting,” he groaned, as he kissed her forehead again, and started to roll away. Feeling her nails scratch across his chest, as he moved, made his belly explode with guilt. He could feel her pulling him back; silently begging him not to move.

Beth’s entire body immediately went cold, she could feel the anxious sweat already developing on her skin, as Rip slowly moved away. She felt the nausea rising in her throat, as her eyes burned with tears. “Where are you going?” But somehow, she knew it wasn’t the bathroom, it wasn’t downstairs to the kitchen. He was leaving. For the first time, he was walking away, when she needed him the most.

He was selfishly hoping she would sleep through the night without him. He prayed she wouldn’t wake up the entire time he dressed. He held his breath as he grabbed his phone and jacket from the chair; that’s when she rolled over, reaching for him. Whimpering when he wasn’t there, until her eyes slowly opened. He only laid back down, thinking he could forget the thoughts circling around his head. He thought he could just doze back off, but he couldn’t. When she came back from the bathroom, thinking he had gone back to sleep, the warmth he felt in his chest, as she cuddled into him, he knew he couldn’t stay anymore. He wanted her too much, loved her too much, to continue being pushed away. It hurt her, just as much as it hurt him. “Back to the bunkhouse,” he said, sliding the jacket on his bare arms. Watching her slowly sit up, but hold the blanket against her chest, covering the bruises he’d seen a thousand times. The exhaustion still etched into her tired eyes, but forced herself to focus, as he turned to slip on his boots. The feeling of her hand on his back, almost made him stop. Her lips on his neck, almost made him throw everything down and crawl back into her bed. But what would happen in a few days or weeks when she was tired of him. When she was terrified of committing to him? “I can’t get used to this,” he mumbled, hoping she hadn’t heard it, but knew she had, by the instant devastated look on her face. The tears welling in her eyes that she tried to hide. He wanted to stay. He wanted to wake up next to her every day. He wanted to freely love her. But there was always a point, Beth ran away. She shut down. He couldn’t handle it again. He’d rather stay single, and want her, than continue to put them both through unnecessary pain.

Beth wanted to beg him to stay, but that had never worked before. Every time she came home from being away, the first few days when she was most vulnerable, most accepting, she always begged him to stay. Tried to convince him to let her sleep at the foreman’s cabin, without forcing her back to the house before dawn. He never explicitly said no. But told her all the reasons she couldn’t stay. Giving her all the excuses why he had to return to the bunkhouse or cabin before her father woke. It might as well have been a no. She knew what would happen the moment she as alone, the moment she closed the door behind him. “I’ll drive you,” she offered, trying to get up, but his hands held her in place. She was willing to do anything to stay with him. Even if it meant getting dressed and venturing out in the cold. It was a few more minutes she didn’t have to be afraid.

There was no way he was gonna let her get out of bed, dressed, and drive him all the way down to the bunk house, when she could barely walk on her own as it was. She had barely slept in weeks. She still had a hard time keeping food down, he knew it was more nerves than her injuries, but it still concerned him nonetheless. He didn’t want her wandering around the ranch, in the dark, alone; even if it was just to get in and out of her car. Even with Kaycee keeping a watch from the foreman’s cabin, and Lloyd likely taking shifts with one of the other cowboys, just in case. Someone was always awake. Someone was always watching. They would know the moment she stepped off the porch. If Jamie or her father were to wake, they would know much sooner than that. She couldn’t go anywhere, without having eyes on her. It only made Rip feel an ounce better. It should be him protecting her. That’s what he was trying to do now; protecting them both before they both got hurt in the end. “No, go back to sleep,” he kissed her gently, caressing her cheek, before pulling away. He didn’t stop when he felt her fingers grip his shirt. He didn’t turn around when he heard her cry out for him. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. His chest felt like it was being ripped apart, as he closed her bedroom door behind him.

“Rip…” she whimpered, but he was already gone. She listened to the sound of his boots on the hardwood, until they disappeared. She hadn’t realized the tears had fallen, until the gash under her eye started to sting. Her stomach twisted in knots. A heaviness settled on her chest. It was still pitch dark outside, the only light coming into the room, was from her on-suite bathroom. It had been constantly on for two weeks. She couldn’t be in the dark. Every shadow, was him, coming back to finish what he started. Every noise, was someone else sneaking into the house to hurt her. The closet and bedroom door had to be closed and locked if they expected her to try to sleep at all. She had to feel Rip against her to calm the immediate panic that settled in her chest, the closer night came. She had to smell his skin as she drifted off, or the smell of cheap cologne from the man that threatened to violate her, would fill her nose. She needed to feel his strong arm around her, or THEIR touch would creep under her skin. Her body ached, as she coughed through a quiet sob. Her mind spinning out of control. Her skin crawling. Every creak of the house, caused the adrenaline to soar and crash like a roller coaster. No matter how hard she covered her ears, she could hear them taunting her. She could feel him pushing her down on the table. Forcing her legs apart, ripping her dress. Forcing her mouth open was probably the most traumatic. She could still feel his fingers squeezing her jaw. She could still see the nail marks when she looked in the mirror. She still couldn’t look Rip in the eye when the lights were on. She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. She was terrified, and somehow felt, she wasn’t supposed to be. She was supposed to be better than her feelings. She was supposed to shake it off. But she could barely stop shaking every time she had to leave the bedroom. Rip was supposed to be bedridden for a few more weeks, he couldn’t wander down to the kitchen with her. And she was too proud to ask anyone for help. Except when Kaycee slammed the door and she froze, only three days after the attack. Her father screamed at him, when he saw the look on her face, when she didn’t respond to whatever question he asked. But oddly, it was Jamie, that she didn’t pull away from, when he finally touched her arm. Everyone was surprised, no one more-so, than her older brother; who carefully made her a new cup and walked with her to the front porch. He sat with her for a while, saying nothing, asking nothing; just sitting, waiting. It took her father and Kaycee leaving, for her to cry in front of one of her family members, for the first time since the attack. She only cried, when she was alone with Rip. For once, Jamie didn’t panic, or immediately jump to her defense. He nudged her hand, and gave a silent, reassuring nod. Not making sarcastic comments. Not poking and teasing her to make her feel better. Allowing her to cry as long as she wanted, and ignoring it. Eventually she ventured back upstairs where Rip was miraculously still sleeping.

She didn’t take a shower, until Rip was able to sit in the bathroom with her. She refused Monica’s assistance, and declined her father’s offer to call Lynell. She had known the woman for nearly as long as she knew Rip; that didn’t mean she wanted her to help wash her hair. If she had to pick between the two women, she would have easily chosen Monica, but she still decided to wait for the man that saved her. He cleaned the wounds on her back and legs. She eventually stopped trying to take back the wash cloth, when he gently slapped her hand away. Kissing her neck. Reminding her everything would be okay. That he loved her. How beautiful she was. Shushing her, when he ran the soapy rag over her bruised chest. She didn’t know where the bruise came from, she could only assume. It was the scrap on her arm that made her hiss, but Rips lips on her neck, near her ear, temporarily took the sting away. The gash on her collar bone burned, and bled a little, as the hot water poured down on them. He was careful and slow, moving over each breast, down her belly; hovering over the scar. She told him everything the night before. She couldn’t tell him she loved him, and not tell him everything. She was terrified he’d leave. Scream at her, for what she took from him. Tell her, he couldn’t take anymore. Instead, he told her again, how much he loved her. He didn’t want children. They didn’t need it. He held her closer and longer that night. Waking every time she moved, or flinched. Consoling her after every nightmare, and panic attack. He was the only reason she wasn’t falling apart.

Out of reflex, she pushed his hand away from between her legs. The flinch she felt behind her, made her chest burn with guilt. He asked her repeatedly, if anything happened she didn’t want to talk about. If they did more than she was ready to say out loud. But they hadn’t. She wasn’t raped. It didn’t stop the threats from circling around in her head. The way he forced himself between her legs, exposed her bra. But it didn’t happen. Possibly only because they didn’t get the chance. Beth had to take a few long, deep breaths, before her body relaxed against his chest again. Reassuring him, they only threatened, nothing else happened. She didn’t jerk or push away again ,as she felt the wash cloth brush over her thighs. She threaded her fingers through his wet, black curls, reminded him she was okay. She would tell him to stop, or move away, if she wasn’t comfortable. But it still took everything she had, not to tense every time his hand moved.

He washed her hair, when she whimpered raising her left arm. After rinsing the conditioner from her blonde curls, she took the rag from him, and gave him a knowing look. She loved the way he tiredly rolled his eyes, but the crocked smile said he was partly grateful. He’d gone without a proper shower, just as long as her, and she didn’t have to have surgery to stop the bleeding to her face. He was lucky, all three bullets went through clean. She washed his hair first, letting him rinse the suds down the drain, while she added more of her lavender soap to her rag. She washed his back, his shoulders. Kissing the small cuts and bruises that were proof of his battle. She was careful, letting the soap lightly run over his bullet wounds. Not letting the rag directly touch the obviously irritated skin. It was when she asked him to turn around, she knew they were gonna have a problem. They both ignored his growing erection, Rip more embarrassed and ashamed at his lack of self control. But she wasn’t innocent. Beth had felt herself growing more aroused, more wet between her thighs, the longer she felt Rips warm, strong chest, against her back. She knew he’d felt it when his fingers ran between her legs. That was the moment, she said I love you back. The moment she kissed him, and whispered she wasn’t afraid of him. Her hand wrapping around the length of his hard cock. When his hand came down to push her away, she caught it; guiding his fingers back between her legs. It had been a good ten years, since she gave him a hand job, but she knew he wouldn’t let her sink to her knees, like she usually would. And he wouldn’t be fucking her, like he was used to. It was the only compromise she could pull from her bag of tricks. She wanted to feel him cum against her. She wanted him to fill her. To know how trusted he was, how wanted. She finished first, a slow wave rolling through her veins. But he was always close behind, spraying her stomach with the seed that would never create life; not with her. As that thought tried to overwhelm her, Rip was devouring her mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

Beth laid there for an hour, remembering the last two weeks of having him constantly by her side, tears silently falling down her face. Forgetting, like always, the gash below her eye, wiping her cheek a little too rough. Causing herself to wince. She couldn’t help pulling her knees to her chest, as something moved down the hall. More than likely, it was her father going to the kitchen, Kaycee or Jamie checking the house after Rip left, Monica coming to check on her. It could be her hero, changing his mind. But to her, everything was them. Every time she tried to close her eyes, she saw them on top of her. Ripping her dress. Pinning her to the table. Felt the man’s hand around her throat. Felt his hand hold down her thigh, as he threatened to rape her. As she encouraged it. Her own words, haunting her. Even in the face of assault and death, she couldn’t shut up. Maybe it bought her more time. Maybe she distracted them long enough for Rip to find her. Beth believed, they never intended to kill her at all. But she did believe, they were gonna make her wish they had. Those were the thoughts she couldn’t be left alone with. Those were the ones that continued haunting her consciousness. They would send someone else to actually do it. And she couldn’t do anything to stop it. All she could do, was wait.

Beth couldn’t take the deafening silence, the cold bed, the fear running out under her veins. It was only one in the morning. If she were to wait for her father or brothers to get up, she’d be sitting in her own despair for another few lonely hours. She didn’t want to wake anyone, even though she knew she could. She could sleep on the couch in her father’s bedroom; she knew he wouldn’t mind. He would probably encourage it. She could ask Jamie to camp out with her in the living room, like they used to do as kids. He already offered multiple times, when he noticed her wandering around the kitchen while Rip was asleep. She could text Monica to come sleep next to her. The woman had already volunteered a thousand times; like she felt this night would eventually arrive. Instead, she grabbed her blanket and phone, and slowly began the walk downstairs. She slipped her shoes on at the backdoor, before opening and closing it as quietly as she could. The clicking sounded a thousand times louder in the silence of the night. She hoped Jamie or her father hadn’t been wandering downstairs, as she was leaving. They would immediately try to coax her back inside. Swearing she would get eaten by a bear or wolf. If they said it tonight, they wouldn’t like her reply. She didn’t care. She felt a fear she’d never felt before, and it wasn’t due to a fucking bear.

She didn’t use the light on her phone, it wasn’t needed. She walked the same path a thousand times. The barn and bunkhouse were both illuminated by giant security lights. NASA could probably see their ranch lighting up from space. It never took her very long to walk from the house, down to the rest of the ranch; not when she was determined. Not when she could already feel Rip’s warm skin against hers.

She was careful opening the door to the bunkhouse. It was silent, besides a few quiet snores. All the lights were out, except for the bathroom. That’s all she needed to see Rip, laying on a bottom corner bunk. His boots still on his feet. He hadn’t bothered striping his jeans or dirty shirt. He hadn’t even bothered getting up the covers. She knew he was exhausted, and miserable when he left the house. She could see the intense pain on his face with every step. The wince when he leaned down and kissed her, before walking away.

She took every step carefully, trying to navigate around the dinning table. Nearly tripping over a pair of boots, but even the little noises she did make, didn’t wake the exhausted cowboys. She didn’t frequent the bunkhouse often. She didn’t know where everyone kept their stuff. She didn’t know where the normal trip hazards were, that they were used to. She came when everyone was awake, or away. Never in the middle of the night, because she was terrified to sleep alone.

For a few minutes, she just stood beside his bunk, staring at his face. Watching his relaxed breathing. Allowing a few tears to fall in relief. The stress and discomfort were finally gone from his face. His tense shoulders and back, were relaxed. Beth couldn’t bring herself to wake him again. Instead, she sat on the floor at the end of his bed. Not bothering trying to close her eyes. Thinking about all the times, she wandered down to the tack room or foreman’s cabin in the middle of the night. Crawling in bed next to him, sometimes waking him before, most of the time, he felt the sheets move. He never turned her away. Never asked her to leave him alone. He always pulled her close to his chest. Whispering soft words of love in her ear, kissing her forehead, until she slowly drifted off to sleep. Seeking him out for the safety he provided, even back then. Whether she knew it or not.
She didn’t know how long she was sitting on the floor. Time always seemed to stand still when she was in Rip’s orbit. He sucked her in, and all her senses could focus on, was him. Nothing else mattered. She was startled hearing her name whispered across the room. For a moment, she assumed she was imagining things. Hearing and seeing things that were only inside her terrified mind. She was so exhausted, by the time she glanced towards the kitchen, Lloyd was already in front of her. Taking no time to join her on the floor. Just like with everyone else, she hid the right side of her face. Turning away slightly, and hoping the older man understood. She hadn’t let anyone really see her face. If they had, it was by accident. It wasn’t about vanity. She was ashamed at what she allowed them to do. Somehow it was her fault. She bated the wrong people. Couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. ‘What’s wrong buttercup?’ he asked, louder than she thought he would. But when she looked around in panic, he shook his head with a silent laugh. ‘These boys could sleep through a hurricane after a day of medicating half the herd. Don’t worry ‘bout wakin’ ‘em,’
Beth could only assume Rip was built different. He woke up with every sound she made, every movement, flinch. He didn’t sleep through anything. Or maybe, it was because he was next to her. He knew how much she needed him. Somehow, she could penetrate that deep cowboy sleep. She was actually worried he was secretly awake, listening to them. But when she heard him gently snore again, she took a breath. She knew when he was asleep and when he wasn’t. He was dead to the world, more than likely, due to the pain medication the vet gave him. “It’s been a long time since you called me that,” she muttered, meaning to smile, but not being able to force herself. She didn’t feel it. She felt angry and frustrated. Scared of every sound like she was six years old, needing her daddy to sit with her, until she fell back asleep. ‘It’s been a long time since you sat still long enough for me to call you anything,’ he said with a low laugh, handing over a box of tissue, but still maintaining his distance. As if the man could sense she wouldn’t be able to take it, not that it wasn’t wanted or appreciated. She did love Lloyd. He was her father’s oldest ally. His best friend. Someone anyone could talk to, and not feel judged in his presence. He watched her and Rip grow up, fall in love. He watched her run away, over and over again, but always coming back to her first love. Always falling right back into Rip’s arms. She didn’t feel the need to hide anything, like she did with her family. ‘Bad dream?’ he asked, but Beth knew she could choose to answer or not. He wouldn’t push. That’s probably where Rip got most of his positive personality, watching Lloyd lead, but also show compassion and empathy when necessary. Try to make it better, or right, if they could. “Bad memories…can’t have dreams if you don’t sleep,” she confessed, glancing at Rip’s face, as she felt the mattress shift. Heard a barely audible groan, before he settled again. ‘Wanna talk about it?’ he asked a little softer.

Beth, honestly, didn’t want to talk about what happened, at all, to anyone. Her family and Rip saw the video, after Jamie got it from the office to destroy it. They didn’t want to risk it getting out to the public. Why they decided to watch it, and not warn her, before she was walking into the living room, she still didn’t understand. She had to hear her own screams of terror echoing through the place she was supposed to feel safe. No one knew what to say when they finally saw her standing there. She locked herself in the bathroom closet for hours. She could hear Rip outside the door, begging her to come out. Apologizing over and over. When she screamed why, through the door, not expecting an answer, and certainly not the one she received. He was scared she didn’t remember. That was all he had to say, she knew exactly what he was referring to. She didn’t remember every second of the attack. Some things were a little fuzzy and scrambled. But she knew she hadn’t lost consciousness. She hadn’t been drugged. The concussion hadn’t caused severe memory loss. She remembered not being raped. That’s why they watched the tape, to make sure she ‘remembered’ correctly. None of them ever accused her of trying to lie, but the words meant the same to her. She didn’t stay locked away for long after that. She crawled out after a few more minutes, wiping her face on the back of her hand. Helping him back to his feet, so they could crawl back into her bed. She didn’t have to ask, Rip immediately pulled her into his chest. Still whispering how sorry he was, kissing her neck and bare shoulder, when she pushed back against him. Falling asleep quickly, as he continued muttering how much he loved her, how safe she was low in her ear. Tucking the blanket loosely around her. “I don’t know how to sleep without seeing them,” she tried to say with no emotion, but felt the tightness in her chest. She felt the pressure in her throat and behind her eyes. Their masked faces still very present in her mind. The way he smiled, every time she winced. The way he felt pressed against her. The smell of his breath in her face. Her dark his eyes were, as she continued egging him on. “Every noise in that giant house, makes me think it’s them, even though I know they’re dead,” she mumbled, trying not to tense and flinch at the new noises she was now surrounded by. Random snores she couldn’t pin point where they were coming from; a random cough that caused her heart to skip. Someone shifting in their bunk causing the bed to creak and crack. “I’m afraid they’re gonna send someone else,” she confessed, feeling Lloyd’s hand cover her boot. Not touching her directly. An understanding in his eyes that she hadn’t seen from anyone else, didn’t make the fear leave, but it did distract her mind. ‘We ain’t gonna let anyone near you, honey. Where you go, one of us goes with you.’

Beth felt awful for that as well. She didn’t need a baby sitter. She didn’t need someone to watch her life she was a toddler. It put more stress and strain on the cowboys. Kaycee was driving himself crazy, barely sleeping. Choosing to watching the house from the bushes, instead of sleep next to his wife. She knew her father hadn’t told him to do that. She knew she was safe inside the house. Her father was right down the hall, Jamie was staying in his old room until they found out who green lit the attack. Gator had even started staying in a guest room instead of going home. She was appreciative. She had been nicer. But they couldn’t watch her all the time. “You really don’t have to do that,” she said with a half smile. She knew the old man would do anything her father asked. If he was told to sit outside her bedroom door all night, he would. Not because of the brand, because he cared. Because like her, his heart was bigger than her brain sometimes. “Y’all have enough to do as is,” she whispered, brushing his hand with hers, but not maintaining the contact for more than a few seconds. She tried, but the touch burned. She tried to apologize. She tried to say anything, but when she looked up, he just shook his head. ‘Most of us watched you grow up, was here before your mother died. Drove you to the fucking mall and soda shop when your brothers refused,’ he said with a low laugh. She couldn’t stop the half smile that appeared, as a good memory finally appeared in her mind. Arguing with Jamie, begging him and Lee to take her into town. She was always bored when Rip was running cattle, or during the spring gathering. She always refused to sleep in the dirt and get eaten by bugs. Now, her favorite place to be with him, was naked on a blanket by the river. Most of the time, it was one of the older cowboys that ended up taking her wherever she wanted to go. ‘You are our job, Beth,’ he said, a little more determination behind his words.
The idea of being anyone’s ‘job’ wasn’t appealing to her. She knew what he meant, but still didn’t like it. She was responsible for herself. If she would have shut up the night of the attack, maybe she wouldn’t have been beaten so bad. He wouldn’t have almost raped her. Rip wouldn’t have been shot. If she had just given them what they wanted, promised to stop fighting the new build, they would have left. She could have lied to their faces, just to get out of the room. It would have been so easy. Maybe Jason would still be alive if she had stopped taunting. She felt responsible, and couldn’t bare anyone picking up the pieces for her. “You should go back to bed. It’ll be morning soon,” she mumbled, the guilt from keeping the much older man awake was also sitting heavy on her chest. He had twice the responsibility now that Rip was on bed rest, and she’d already seen the handful Jimmy could be. He needed all the sleep he could get. “I promise, I’m fine,” she encouraged, when he didn’t move. The look on his face told her he was trying to figure out what to do. The boss’s daughter, sitting in the bunkhouse, next to the man that almost lost his life saving her, would definitely start some rumors. Not that everyone hadn’t seen her coming and going from the foreman’s house for years. She was never shy about her attraction to the dark haired cowboy. She had never cared what anyone thought, the whispers, the stares. She didn’t care what her father thought. If he didn’t know how much she loved Rip, he was blind, or didn’t care. But she knew Rip did care. He was respectful, honorable. Beth knew, if she tried to crawl into the bunk with him, he’d take her back to the house. Thinking he was protecting her somehow. “I just wanted to see him,” she confessed, feeling a soft flush creep into her cheeks. Not that the older man could see it, but she could feel it.

Beth was content sitting on the floor all night, watching him sleep. Her body and mind were too on guard to sleep anyway. After weeks of waking up to him, feeling his strong body against her, his protective embrace around her; she got used to it. She got comfortable being vulnerable for the first time. Relying on him. Admitting to herself, that she needed him. Not physically, she was stronger than she looked, but emotionally, she was broken. ‘When you wake him up, I’ll go to bed. He’d kick my ass if he knew I left you on the floor alone and didn’t wake him,’ he said a little more serious, but offered a soft smile when she shook her head. She didn’t want him to know she walked all the way down to the house alone. Not when he knew, she had a difficult time just walking down to the kitchen, could still hardly stand long enough to shower. She still could barely see out of her right eye. It wasn’t his anger and frustration she was afraid of, it was his concern and kindness. If he woke up, with her sitting there, all the things that could have gone wrong would start flashing in his mind. He would immediately want to protect her, hold her. Even though they both knew, Kaycee likely saw her wandering down to the bunkhouse and watched her from a distance the entire way. “He needs to sleep,” she muttered, remembering how many nights she woke him with her nightmares. Screaming and crying. Begging them to stop. Helping her change her clothes. Cleaning her wounds when she got fed up of Jamie being nice to her. Kissing the bruises on her body; the ones she let him see. She still hid her face. Always dimming the bathroom lights. She didn’t open the bedroom curtain. When they did wander downstairs, she left her hair in front of her face, and she never stayed there for long. He deserved to sleep, without worrying about her. Maybe, that was why he left. “He was in pain before he left the house,” she mumbled, still seeing the flinch on his face when he stepped away from her bed. It made her start believing, he really didn’t want to sleep next to her anymore. He didn’t want to be needed as much as he was. Or he was still waiting for her to love him back. The thoughts hurt, but she pushed him away for decades, why didn’t she deserve to be kept at arms length? ‘If he knew you were sitting here crying, he wouldn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t care about his pain, he cares about yours,’ Lloyd tried, but she couldn’t help turning away. That was exactly why she didn’t want to wake him. He didn’t care about himself, he never had. Always treating himself as less than, less deserving. When he was the kindest, gentlest man she’d ever met. He was so open and loving with her. If he hadn’t told her about his life before the ranch, she would never assume he came from such violence. That he witnessed what no child should. Had to do what a fifteen year old man shouldn’t. He never showed that to her. She still couldn’t imagine it in her mind. “I’m fine. I’ll just go back to the house,” she whispered, shaking her head, as she slipped the boots back on her feet.
She couldn’t help the tears that began to fall, or the sniffles that filled the silence around them. She was already trembling at the thought of walking back into the too big, too quiet house. It was too dark. She didn’t know what made Lloyd suddenly make a decision; it was probably the tears, but she knew he could feel her shaking next to him. Beth was at the point, where she couldn’t hide the fear and pain. She couldn’t force herself to move, and run before he could wake her protector. She was frozen. ‘No you’re not,’ he muttered, as he pushed the box of tissue closer, which she gladly accepted. He slowly got to his feet. Reassuring her everything would be okay, as she shook her head again. Turning her back to the bunk. Beth could have gotten out before he had a chance to start shaking Rips shoulder, but she couldn’t make herself move. No matter how worried she was about Rip finding her, a larger part of her wanted him to. She wanted him next to her. She wanted to wake up to his breath on her face, his arm around her back. She wanted the warmth that penetrated her soul. ‘Rip…’ she heard the older man say, feeling the bunk move slightly. Hearing the springs creak through the silence. She didn’t feel her cowboy wake. She knew it was pure exhaustion. Usually he jumped awake, if he thought she moved wrong. ‘Boss!’ she heard him try again, louder, shaking the man harder. She wanted to tell him to stop. That she would hurt him. That he still had stitches. But her mouth suddenly went dry, as she heard the familiar gasp of him waking, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

The cowboy was both grateful and aggravated being woken for the second time that night. The nightmare he was experiencing was horrific. He didn’t need to see what happened to the woman he loved, for his imagination to fill in the gaps for him. He saw the injuries. She was lucky they didn’t fracture her eye socket or break her jaw. But it was everything she refused to share that haunted him. That’s why he watched the tape. He had to know. Her reactions to being touched, the bruises and marks on her thighs, the rips in her clothes. He assumed she was either too afraid and ashamed to tell him the truth, or honestly couldn’t remember. He thought she was asleep when Jamie text him he recovered the tape. He never heard her come down the stairs, he really didn’t think she could without help. In his defense, he was preoccupied with the level of violence two large men committed against the love of his life. He was expecting to see the worst at any moment, until he heard the coffee cup hit the floor. Rip would never forget the look of betrayal and devastation on her face. The way her eyes never wandered from him. It didn’t matter to her if everyone else watched the tape, it mattered that he did. It was harder, hearing her scream and cry on the other side of a locked door, and he could do nothing, but apologize. Afraid it would be the one time, she would run, and never come back. That he crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed. In reality, she opened the door, and cried in his arms for hours. Asking why. In his nightmares, she never came out. She disappeared. Sometimes she was never there at all. The first few nights after, all he saw was her mangled, dead body. That was the nightmare he was trapped in when Lloyd’s voice finally broke through her blood curdling screams. “You’re in charge, Lloyd. Did I need to say it twice,” he mumbled, grabbing his side, before trying to turn away from the blaring kitchen light. Hating being back in the bunkhouse with every passing day. It was so quiet in the foreman’s house, peaceful. No one bothered him unless it was necessary. Lloyd had been in charge of the young cowboys for ten years. Watching over them at night, while he was right up the driveway, usually entertaining Beth. ‘Someone needs you,’ he heard his mentor respond, keeping a firm grip on he shoulder. Refusing to let him roll towards to wall.

It was the tone of the old man’s voice that got him to nearly bolt upright. Sleep forgotten. His heart pounding in his chest. Pain shooting up his side, but he couldn’t find it in his brain to care. He knew in his gut something was wrong with Beth. He could feel it in his gut. He could sense it in the air. He could see it on the man’s face. There was no other reason to wake him. “What happened?” he groaned, trying to push him out of the way to slip his boots back on his feet. He knew he shouldn’t have left. No matter how he felt, he should have just gone back to sleep with her head on his chest. He had no reason to leave her in the middle of the night, but to protect himself from the pain he assumed she would cause him later. He was selfish. He’d never walked away from her before. He never left her laying there in tears. He never walked out the door, especially with her still crying for him. He was an ass, and didn’t even know what happened yet.

Lloyd didn’t say a word, just glanced at the end of the bed. His eyes followed, and saw Beth sitting on the floor, crying. She was mostly silent, but he could see her shoulders trembling, her back shaking. He could hear the sniffles she tried to muffle into her blanket, she obviously drug from the house. “I got her. Thanks, Lloyd,” he said a lot quieter, watching her back tense. He couldn’t help running a hand down his face in frustration, not with her, with himself. He’d never caused her to cry before, not that he as aware of. He never gave her a reason. He was the one that kissed away her tears.

Beth didn’t move. She didn’t lift her head when she felt him begin shifting behind her, slipping his boots back on. She felt guilty for needing him so much, after pushing him away for twenty years. She felt she didn’t deserve it. A small part of her actually wished he would have just told her to go back to the house. She could keep her distance then. She could forget he told her he loved her, and she didn't say it back. She could ignore the way he always looked at her. But she knew he wouldn’t. He never turned her away. He never told her to leave or stop; like now. He was all hers. His attention, his affection, protectiveness, love; all belonged to her. She had to force herself not to flinch, as his heavy hand ran down her back. That made her cry silently harder. Her body never reacted that way to Rip before. She never had to force herself to relax and calm. She was angry, two men that had no idea who she was, could cause that much trauma. It hurt even more, knowing Rip could feel it. She could feel it in the way he touched her. He treated her like glass. Unsure how to touch her. Not confident in what his heart told him to do.

Rip was careful as he touched her skin, whether she was covered or not, she was bruised and cut over most of her body. She was still in pain daily. Every time she breathed too deep, she grabbed her side with a sharp whimper. Every time she tried to sleep on her back, she quickly rolled back to her left side in a frustration groan. Her right hip still black and blue. She still needed help, every time she wanted to walk further than he bathroom, and even than, he knew how much pain she experienced. He felt the same, and he barely made it to the bunkhouse. He was actually lucky, Lloyd was up, and heard him trying to get the keys from his pocket. Reaching for anything, hurt like he was tearing the skin apart. He had no idea how she made it all the way down the path, in the dark, without help. She was the strongest person he’d ever met, but the attack had caused her to break in more ways than he thought possible. The screams he heard come from her chest in the last few weeks, broke something in his own soul, he hadn’t realized was still intact. The way she clawed at his shoulders and back, as she cried in terror, made the anger bubble deep in his chest with no where to go. Her inability to sleep, without touching him, shouldn’t be something he found concerning, but it was. He knew leaving would likely cause a reaction, and left anyway; to protect himself. When he knew, this time, was different for her. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere. But that small thought in the back of his head, still reminded him, she always ran in the end. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go outside,” he whispered, trying to brush the hair from her face. She still turned, to avoid showing the right side of her face. He knew her eye still didn’t completely open. The deep cut along her temple, under her still black and blue eye, was still inflamed. Still slightly swollen, just like her jaw. The left side, wasn’t much better. Her cheekbone was still bruised. The scratches and strangulation marks were worse. A week ago, he could still see the guys finger marks on her perfect neck.

Beth couldn’t help turning her face further away. Biting her lip to stop the sob that threatened to wake the entire bunkhouse. Shame and frustration pulsing under her skin. She wanted to look at the man she loved. She wanted him to see her. It wasn’t him that she didn’t trust. It was herself. She felt weak. She felt broken for needing anyone for the first time since begging Jamie for help at fifteen. She never depended on anyone. It was difficult realize she could. She had someone that would and almost did, die for her. Someone that loved her, even if she was a tornado of chaos. She didn’t know how to react to his devotion, she never did, that’s why she ran. It terrified her, that she didn’t want to run anymore. She wanted to stay by his side, until she died. She never felt that before. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, leaning into his touch, as her body slowly relaxed. She knew his side was killing him. She didn’t have to look at him, to know he was clutching it. She could feel his as his shaky breath hit the back of her neck, before his lips were leaving reassuring kisses on her sticky skin.

Rip was careful, as he sat beside her, barely running his fingers down her partially bare back. Giving her every chance to pull away, tell him no. She never had before, but she’d never been nearly beaten to death and threatened with rape before either. If she didn’t want to be touched, he would always sit with her in silence. Lucky for him, she leaned back into his touch. Sighing, when his lips ghosted across her neck. He was still careful, when he wrapped an arm around her waist, barely brushing her bruised ribs. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered low in her ear, feeling her trembling against him. Almost scared that she was about to push his hand away, when he felt her nails dig into his arm. Only relaxing again, when her fingers slipped between his. “Come on, honey,” he coaxed, but knew the fight to get her to move, was gonna be much harder than that. She was like a stubborn, spooked horse. If she didn’t wanna do it, it wasn’t gonna happen. If her mind was already set on something, it was difficult for her to give up. She remembered and felt everything deeper than he could imagine.

Beth gripped his hand harder. Pulling it to her lips, kissing his palm, as she felt his lips back on her neck. She could feel him breathing her in. Nuzzling her ear, like he did just as she was drifting off to sleep. It was the first time since her left, that her body relaxed. Her heart slowly calmed. The anxiety in her chest disappeared. “I can’t sleep up there,” she whispered, feeling the heavy sigh against her neck. He knew how she felt about the overly big house in general. There were a thousand reasons she hated it. It wasn’t always a happy household growing up. It wasn’t an easy life, being the only daughter of John Dutton. Losing her mother so early. Feeling that she was the cause of her own mother’s death. Her pictures were still all over the house, like nothing ever happened. Her robe still hung in her father’s bathroom, her clothes in his closet. Many days, she thought he blamed her too. The way he ignored her, talked to her, dismissed her. Sometimes even the way he looked at her, made her think she really was at fault. She hated being in her old bedroom. It was a constant reminder of the abortion she had to recover from, alone. The sterilization that changed her entire outlook on life. That ignited a bitterness and rage inside her, she hadn’t realized existed. She’d rather the place burn to the ground. “I wanna stay with you,” she muttered for the first time. She never asked to stay. She never begged him. She was usually looking for sex and end up staying the night. Or partially drunk and looking to tease him, until HE was begging her to stay.

Rip wanted nothing more than to lift the blanket and tell her to climb into his bed. He always wanted her to stay, but it was the first time, she said it out loud. The first time he heard the need in her voice. He wanted to curl his body around her, until she could breath again. If he was still in the foreman’s cabin, it wouldn’t even be a thought in his mind. She would have been there to begin with. “You don’t wanna stay in here, it’ll be chaos in the morning,” he tried, resting his forehead against her non-damaged shoulder. His lips kissing the small, light colored bruises he could reach without moving away. He could feel her body relaxing against him in exhaustion. She needed to sleep. She needed to let her brain and body rest. There would be no way for her to sleep through the bitching, yelling, and shit dropping that would begin in a few hours. Would Lloyd try to keep them quiet, of course. And if they saw her sleeping in his bunk, they would voluntarily do so, but there was only so much they could expect from a bunch of tired, sore, pissed off cowboys. “I’m still surprised you can’t hear them from the house yelling at four a.m,” he tried to joke, but felt her whimper into his skin. He knew he wasn’t gonna win, and didn’t even know if he wanted to. He just wanted her comfortable and safe. He wanted her to relax. He didn’t want her waking at every sound, every movement he made next to her. A small part of him, almost thought she would sleep better without him groaning every time he tried to roll to his side, realizing he couldn’t. Startling every time he got out of bed for the bathroom. Now, he realized, she had been terrified he would leave; like he had. “You need to sleep,” he whispered softly in her ear. Kissing the spot on her neck that made a different kind of whimper to leave her lips.

Beth would have loved to fall into a dreamless sleep. She would love to know she wouldn’t dream of the man that wanted to violate her, and laughed about it. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. Even with Rip by her side, she still had the most horrific nightmares, she’d ever experienced. At least with him there, seeing his face, feeling his loving touch, she knew it was over. She knew they were gone. He was her reminder that she was gonna be just fine. Without him, all she had were her memories and thoughts haunting her. “I can’t sleep without you,” she confessed, only glancing up for a moment, before looking away again. She could see the growing concern in his eyes. The stress lines more defined on his face. She could feel it in the way he held her. He wanted her to stay. He always wanted her to stay. “I…” she tried, but could feel the sob and panic building in her chest. Even the thought, was bringing flashes of the attack back to her consciousness. The way his fingers felt, as they tightened around her throat. Pinned her to the wall. His hand trailing down her body, before she savagely stabbed him in the clavicle. Aiming for the artery she luckily hit with ease. She could feel her hands shaking, when she reached for his. She knew he could see it, without looking up. His hand catching hers, kissing her fingertips. “I see him,” she whimpered, confessing the words out loud, even though everyone could see it in her face. They saw how she was touched and taunted, between violent beatings. The sexual threats. Forcing her mouth open. She didn’t know how anyone could still look at her after. She could barely look in the mirror. “I feel him on me,” she chocked on a sob, she tried to silence. When she felt Rip pulling her to him, she finally turned and buried her face in his chest. Holding the broken sobs as much as she could. Letting the tears fall silently down her face, as he held her.

If Rip hadn’t watched the security footage, he would still assume she was raped. But she wasn’t. Monica and Kaycee said it was the thought being put in her head. It was the threat. It was her being so close to it happening, she couldn’t shake that fear. Later, the younger Dutton told him what his wife had done for the reservation police. How it almost happened to her. They understood, better than anyone, what Beth was thinking. What her subconscious was doing to her. The guilt and shame that would take love and care to erase. The shock her body felt with every touch, would only disappear over time and patience. Rip had nothing but time, and for her, he had all the patience in the world. Instead of continuing their whispered conversation, and despite the three gun shot wounds not nearly healed, he scooped her up in his arms. Just because everyone heard a short summary of what happened; no one needed to hear the details. No one needed to hear her fears and cries. She deserved to have her privacy protected, even if that wasn’t her first priority. He tightened his arm around her back, as he felt her fingers dig into his shoulder. He was only grateful she didn’t fight him or scream. She did the opposite, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered. It was more concerning. She didn’t like being taken care of or treated like a child. She didn’t like being seen as the ‘weaker sex’, as her mother put it. Her not putting up a fight, pushing him away, turning her pain into rage, even shocked the older cowboy still watching from his bunk across the room. Beth was all fight, all the time. Hiding what she perceived to be weaknesses. “Lloyd, door,” he said low, as the older man jumped from his bunk, and quickly opened and closed the heavy door behind him. He felt her immediately shiver, as the cold air hit her face and neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in her ear, as she buried her face further in his neck.

Beth couldn’t bring herself to argue or fight him. He was holding her, she could smell him, feel him; she didn’t care about anything else. “Don’t take me back up there,” she whimpered into his skin. She knew that was his plan. It was easier. She knew he’d stay for a few more days, but that wasn’t a solution. It was a temporary fix. She was tired of fixes, she wanted him, and she wasn’t ashamed. She wanted everyone to know. She wanted her father to acknowledge it so they could both relax. She wanted to move out of the big house. She didn’t care where she slept, as long as it wasn’t in that dungeon. She’d sleep with him in the field, before she went back in that house.

Normally, Rip would give her anything she wanted. Whether it hurt him or not, he would do it for her. This time was different. If one of the brothers had been a target, one of the ranch hands or even John himself, he doubted everyone would be as panicked, terrified, full of pure rage. They chose one of the most physically vulnerable, the smallest, the most loved out of the Dutton clan. They chose a small woman to beat and nearly rape, instead of fighting like real men. It was because it was Beth, that everyone was losing their minds. Because she was so quiet, kept to herself, jumped at every noise; when she was the one normally causing the chaos. The loud, opinionated one. The Dutton that would take on any fight, without a second thought. Took on everyone’s problems, like they were her own. “Your dad is gonna wander where you are,” he muttered, as he felt a few tears hit his neck. Her fingers tightening in his shirt. In twenty years, she never clung to him with such intensity. She never wanted him around her, touching her twenty-four, seven. She always pushed him away after a few days. She always wanted space and ended up lashing out. It had been two weeks, and she still hadn’t told him to go. She hadn’t been sarcastic, when he whispered sweet words in her ear at night. She hadn’t used frustration to hide her want for him. She gave in. she let herself be open for the first time. She let every wall she built, fall for him. That didn’t mean he would cause her father a heart attack not being able to find her in the morning. He wouldn’t cause chaos so he could sleep next to her. He would have to find another way. “If he can’t find you in the morning, he’s gonna lose his mind,” he whispered into her hair. He could already hear her father and Jamie screaming, running from the house, guns in hand. Kaycee calling the state police. All because she wanted to sleep with him. “I’ll stay with you, it’s gonna be just fine,” he promised, walking towards his truck. There was no way he could carry her the rest of the way to the house. She was light as a tea cup, but the wounds on his side were still burning. He was still fearful he’d bust a stitch and have to start healing all over again. That would just make his sweet blonde feel more guilt. He’d sleep next to her until she told him to go, or his boss did; but he knew the latter would never happen.

Beth wanted to believe him. He never lied to her before. He also never left her crying alone. He never pushed her away. He never told her no, not when she really needed him. Her fear, he’d leave as soon as she feel asleep. Somehow, he’d figure out a way to sneak out of bed without her feeling it. She didn’t want to wake up cold and terrified. She didn’t want to start screaming and crying from a nightmare, and have her father or Jamie comfort her. She didn’t want them. If she did, she would have wandered to one of their bedrooms. She would have text her brother that she didn’t want to be alone. He would gladly grab his shit and sleep on her floor, or drag her blankets down to the family room to camp in front of the fireplace, like they had done as kids. She could have called Kaycee to sit on the porch with her. It didn’t matter the options she had, she wanted Rip. He was the one that saved her, told her he loved her, in the moment her soul shattered. A light burning out inside her, she could feel it. Like she lost a small part of herself. “You left,” she whimpered, not able to suppress the sob she’d been holding since Lloyd started to wake him. Feeling the moment he pulled away all over again. Seeing the hurt and conflicting look in his eyes. Feeling the air around her grow cold and stale. The walls closing in, as his foot steps faded. She couldn’t do it again. She would end up taking the pills Monica tried to give her the first few days she refused to sleep, and she didn’t know if she would be able to not put some of the blame on him. She didn’t want to take anything that made her more vulnerable, but she had to sleep. And if she couldn’t depend on him like she always believed she could, than maybe he didn’t love her like he thought he did. The thought broke her heart, caused her to cling to him tighter. Not knowing if it would be the last time. “You knew I wanted you to stay, and you left anyway,” she sobbed, not able to control the emotional roller coaster going on inside her head.

The brokenness in Beth’s soft cries, shattered his heart. It made his blood run cold. Knowing he caused that pain, almost made him sick. He’d never caused her to cry. He’d never been the one to walk away. It had been the hardest things he’d ever done. Seeing the devastated look, and tears in her eyes. The way her body curled towards him, even when he was trying to leave. Silently begging him to stay. Trying to pull him back by the open flaps of his shirt. He wanted to stay. He wanted to pull her back to his chest and protect her from everything that wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make the monsters inside her head disappear. He wanted to love her completely, but he also had to protect himself. Every time she ran away, he ached for months. He thought about nothing, but her. His dreams and fantasies were all focused on Beth. He couldn’t have her, love her, and lose her again. He’d rather hurt them both early, than wait and they both ended up lost and angry. “I can’t get used to sleeping next to you every night, for you to push me away,” he confessed for the first time. He knew she saw it on his face, every time she walked away. Every time she told him they weren’t dating, she wasn’t his wife. He had no right being jealous over her. But he was. He was jealous and he did wish she was his wife. That had always been the problem. “I never said I didn’t want to be there,” he tried to reassure, as he felt the tears hitting his neck. There was no place he would rather be, than next to her. Have her tucked close to his chest, feeling her warm breath on his neck, her leg thrown over his thigh in her sleep.

Feeling his arms tighten around her, hearing the hitch in his chest he tried to cover, Beth brain suddenly stopped. The memories and feelings from that night, disappeared. Rip rarely admitted his feeling, especially when he was hurting. He never told her she caused him pain, even though she knew she did. Hearing the words, made her stomach clench. Knowing he had to prepare himself, for the hurt she would inevitably would cause, made her want to vomit. After everything he gave up for her, did for her, and he had to emotionally protect himself from her, was the hardest thing she’d ever heard. She didn’t want to lose him again, when she was finally ready to stop running. She didn’t want him to start pushing her away. “I love you,” she whispered low in his ear for the first time. A warm wave running through her body. The tremors ran up her spine. Goosebumps covered her cool skin. She knew he could feel it.

Rip froze at the back of his truck. He knew he hadn’t heard her wrong. He felt her lips on his neck. Her fingers loosening on his shoulders, caressing his cheek instead. He felt her body shiver against him, as the words left her lips. “What did you say?” He whispered, carefully sitting her on the open tailgate. Making sure the blanket stayed wrapped around her shoulders. She’d never told him she loved him, but the one time, and didn’t say it again. He knew she meant it, but a small part in the back of his mind, was terrified she didn’t. Never accidentally said it during sex, or when she was drunk. He could always see it in her face, in the way she looked at him. He knew she loved him, and knew how much. But hearing her say it, knowing she meant it, was the commitment he’d been waiting for.

Beth didn’t feel obligated to keep her face hidden, as they sat in near darkness. She knew he could see the bruises, but couldn’t see the details of her skin. He couldn’t examine how bad the damage actually was. It was the only times, she could hold his eye contact and not feel the need to look away. When she did look up, she saw a happiness, a love, she never thought she’d see reflected at her. She knew he heard her. The wetness in his eyes, that she would never mention, the way his fingers caressed her cheek, let her know, he wanted to hear it again. “I love you,” she said, with twenty years worth of love and heartache behind her words. “I always have.” She said it a thousand times in her head. She said it a hundred on every long drive home for the holidays. Having every intention of telling him, moving home, building a life with him. But always remembered she had secrets that would destroy them. Until the night they went to watch the wolves in the park. They ended up making love in the bed of the truck. She was drifting off in his arms, when she felt his fingers blatantly trace the scar on her belly over and over again. He’d never paid any attention to the obvious mark before, never asked about it. But the way his fingers didn’t waver or wander, told her he knew. The way he kissed her neck and pulled her closer, told her he knew EVERYTHING. She did cry, without explanation. She apologized without explaining why. They never talked about it. They still hadn’t talked about it. And he never stopped looking at her like the most important person in his world. He still saved her life. He still told her he loved her, was shot for her. “Please, don’t make me sleep in that bed alone,” she whimpered, kissing his palm, before she felt his fingers moving along her jaw, gently tilting her chin.

Rip was carefully as he covered her lips with him. Letting her lead, pulling him in. Sucking and licking her bottom lip softly. Feeling her tongue graze his, until his lips parted in a low moan. Her nails running through the trimmed hair on his chest. He couldn’t help pushing the blanket from her shoulders, just to feel her warm, soft skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that,” he whispered against wet lips, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, as a tremor ran through her body, and goosebumps appeared on her skin. He remembered the first time he told her he loved her, they were eighteen, she was about to leave for college. He hadn’t told her to stop her, he wanted her to go. He told her then, because he knew how unloved she felt, how unwanted. He wanted her to always remember, no matter where she was, someone loved her. Someone thought about her every day. Someone missed her. She never said it back, but he could see it. The way her eyes watered, the way her bottom lip trembled. The way he could see her looking back, as her father drove her to the airport. After that, he said it every time she returned home, reminding her he was still waiting. Hoping, one day, she would say it back.

Beth knew how long, because she felt it. She felt him waiting. She felt him longing for her. Every time she had to leave, she could see the devastation in his eyes. He touched her longer, held her tighter. And she grieved she days after returning to her empty apartment. “Twenty years,” she whimpered, as he pulled away to leave light kisses along her cheek. She wished she could go back and tell him the truth that had kept them apart. The reasons she kept running. She even wished she would have just told him she was pregnant, and they could have dealt with it together. She knew in her heart, that he would have always loved her. She knew it at fifteen that he would love her no matter what she did. He proved it over and over again. She repeatedly fucked and flaunted men in his face for years, and he still looked at her like she was the best gift he’d ever received. She belittled and insulted him every time she felt herself falling too hard, and he still told her he loved her every chance he got. She still didn’t know what stopped her from holding her secret for so long. She knew what her excuses were; she was guilty of taking something from him, she had no right to take. She took away his ability to have a family, to raise children of his own. To watch their child row inside her. To feel them move and kick. To hear their heart beat. To know what it felt like to hold his baby for the first time. It ruined twenty years of their lives. “I’m so sorry, Rip,” she whispered, just as his lips covered her again, silencing a quiet sob that broke from her chest.

He kissed her with all the love he hadn’t been able to express for the last twenty years. Giving her everything he had. Pulling the blanket back around her shoulders, as he felt her tremors turn to uncontrollable shivers. “My sweet girl,” he praised, caressing her cheek like she was the only person that mattered, because she was. She was the only thing, in the world, he cared about. He could lose his job tomorrow, the only life he’d every known, as long as he had Beth, it didn’t matter. They would figure it out. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he reassured, brushing the stray hairs behind her ear. He might not have been able to clearly see her face, but he liked the way she leaned into his touch every time he did it. To him, she could do no wrong. Everything she did, was just Beth. He didn’t take it personally. He could see the fear and anger she was never allowed to work through. The pain she held close to her chest. The trauma she still pretended didn’t effect her. No one just allowed her to freely express those ugly emotions, so they received anger and bitterness. He accepted every flaws, every trait she found unlikable.

She felt like she had done nothing but wrong since they met. She could have allowed herself to be happy. She could have felt safe and whole for the last twenty years, if she would have just let him love her. If she would have accepted that she was lovable. That she was worth the extra time and energy it took to be with her. “You got shot,” she almost chocked out, but felt Rip nuzzling the spot behind her ear, humming low into her neck. Her fingers running lightly over the bandage on his side. She still remembered what it felt like to have his blood seeping through her fingers, trying to stop the bleeding, before the ambulance arrived. She could still hear the groan and feel his fingers tighten on her hip, as shocks of pain radiated through his side. She could still see the moment of fear on his face. He should have just called the police when she asked for help. He should have called everyone, had backup with him, and maybe he wouldn’t have been shot. She should have texted 911. She should have sent out a mass message for everyone to respond. She didn’t because she wanted Rip. She knew the only person she would want touching her, looking at her, asking her intimate questions, was the man she had just laid next to the night before. She had a feeling how bad the night was going to be. “You had to…” she tried, but couldn’t make herself finish, without the tears chocking her. Beth wasn’t an idiot, or blind. She knew the man she loved had killed more people than she’d probably met on the ranch. Whenever her father had problems with a ranch hand, a local that couldn’t mind their business, cattle thieves, hunters; somehow she’d always see them on the news in a matter of weeks. She knew, those ‘disappearances’ were likely Rip and Lloyd in the early days. She knew he killed his father out of defense for his family, something a young boy should never have to do. He killed a boy she had sex with at sixteen. He never told her, neither did her father. But two nights after Rip saw her getting in and out of his truck, the boy died from falling off a horse. She knew it wasn’t true, but the sheer panic that erupted on the ranch the next night. Cowboys died falling off horses all the time, her own mother died from a fall, it wasn’t worthy of a police investigation. No one ever came to get his things or claim his body, he just disappeared. Having him come to her rescue, kill a man that was threatening horrific violence against her, caused the guilt and shame to bubble in her chest. Having him witness the aftermath in real time, not watching it on tape like everyone else, caused another sob to fill the silence between them. She remembered trying to pull away from his touch, as he grabbed her. She remembered screaming and kicking, still fighting the danger in her head. It took a while to see him, to feel HIM. And she still couldn’t tell him how she felt. She hated herself and her father, for putting the man with the biggest heart, the most empathy, through more trauma. For what?

“And I’d do it over and over again,” he responded immediately, letting her hide her face in his neck, as he ran his hands up and down her back. Even with the blanket, he could still feel her shivering. Ever since the attack, she ran cold. Normally, she was the hottest feeling thing on the ranch. Her skin was like a furnace. It was like her blood ran turned cold and never warmed. Cuddling as close as she could at night, and it still wasn’t enough. Monica reassured him it would eventually go away, her body was still in shock. Confined that she took so many showers a day after her experience, she lost count. She couldn’t get clean enough, warm enough. She thought it would help the feeling of someone else touching her. Beth had been doing the same thing, of course, he hadn’t mentioned it. He ignored every time the shower came on in the other room. How many times she asked Jamie to throw something in the dryer for her. “Listen to me, I will always love you more than myself,” he whispered in her ear, as she kissed his neck, but he felt the wetness on her cheek. She blamed herself for everything that happened to everyone. She blamed herself for the attack. Did he, no. He would die for her every time. He would kill anything that even seemed to be a threat to the woman he loved, especially now. He would rip them apart with his bare hands, and never lose a minute of sleep. He would take hit after hit, as long as she was out of harms way. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me, as long as you’re still breathing.” He kissed her temple, her cheek. Wiped away the tears that were still silently falling.

Beth felt the same way. She didn’t care what happened to herself, she could take it. She wouldn’t take the pain Rip was constantly in. She couldn’t stand he couldn’t sleep on his side like he normally would. He couldn’t cough, laugh. He wasn’t even supposed to be up, walking around, let along carrying her thirty yards to his truck. That’s what hurt her, not the cuts and bruises on her body. “Let me stay,” she begged, done pretending she was as strong as everyone thought. Done running from what she really wanted, when she honestly thought, he would die in front of her. “Please.” She would deal with her father tomorrow, not that he would be surprised, the man had been sleeping in her bed for two weeks. She wouldn’t be without him anymore. She wouldn’t willingly sleep along. She wouldn’t push him away out of fear.

It took Rip a long minute to figure out what to do. She didn’t want to sleep in the house, not even with his promises and reassurance. He didn’t want her trying to sleep in the bunkhouse. The beds weren’t that comfortable, and constant noise wouldn’t allow her to sleep without startling awake every time the door opened. The cabin was too far away, and even though she would love the idea, he refused to let her sleep outside under the circumstances. They still didn’t know who orchestrated the attack. He wouldn’t risk her being that vulnerable. “I got a better idea,” he whispered, kissing her forehead, before stepping away. He had to ignore the whimper that left her chest, or they would have never moved. He grabbed the spare blankets from the back of his truck, before taking her hand and coaxing her to the barn. Catching the corner of her mouth turning up just for a second.

She didn’t have to ask where they were going, and couldn’t help the soft smile spreading across her face, as he opened his old bedroom door. Flicking on the light before guiding her inside, locking the door behind them. It was the first time since the attack, Beth took a deep breath. The familiar smell of horses and hay, leather, wood, Rip caused her heart to warm. All the good memories she chose to keep, flooding her mind. All the nights, she snuck down from the house, because she wanted to sleep next to him. Because she had a nightmare about her mother and the accident. Because she had a fight with Jamie or her father. She made a lot of excuses, but she really just wanted to be near him. She wanted to feel the safety and love her provided, even at fifteen and sixteen. “I love this room,” she whispered, with a soft smile, she knew he could barely see. She fell in love with him in that room. The tried to heal each other in that room. They made a baby in that room. How could she not love it?

From what Rip remembered, she had mixed feelings about the tack room; so did he. He loved they could be alone at night. He loved she would sneak down from the house, and sleep next to him until he had to get up before every one else. Those were the nights, her guard was down. When she was shy and sweet and just looking for silent comfort. When they would share secrets and fears they would never tell anyone else. She also, broke his heart in that room. “You used to hate this room,” he almost laughed, as he shook out the blankets and laid them across the mattresses. He didn’t mean hate in the sense she did, and she never acted that way late in the night. It was only during the day, when her defenses were in full force, she could be a little hateful. She complained about the smell of the horses, how noisy they were. She’d try to bait him into a fight, which he never fell for. He knew she was hurting, even way back then. And knew, she would always calm down and come back to apologize.

Beth couldn’t help biting her lip with a sad smile. She hated herself for making him feel that she hated anything that involved him. She only hated what she did to him. Every memory she had of them, she cherished. Every moment they spent together, she filed away for later. She craved those moments alone with him. She didn’t even regret the pregnancy anymore. It was something precious they created out of innocent love. She regretted never telling him, but she couldn’t regret it happening. “No, I didn’t,” she confessed, watching him suddenly turn from the bed he was sweetly making. Causing her to feel worse for what she had done all those years ago, what she continued to do. All he did was take care of her, and she was awful. “I was a bitch, and trying to hurt you,” she said for the first time. Trying to cover her face, as he dropped everything and came back to her, catching her hand.

Rip held her hand gently against his bare chest. Letting her feel his pounding heart. Reminding her, he was right there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. She could do her worst, and she had, and he wouldn’t leave. She could be free and vulnerable, and he wouldn’t turn her away. “Why?” he didn’t have to ask, he knew why, but if she needed to say the words out loud to feel better, that was fine with him. Her anger and frustration had nothing to do with him. He was an easy target, because she knew, he wouldn’t fight her. He wouldn’t give her what she wanted. He wouldn’t be like everyone else. There was no name calling, blaming or screaming; he walked away.

“So you wouldn’t want me,” she tried, but her sobs building in her chest, caused her breath to catch. She loved him. She loved him so much, she was willing to make him miserable with her, so she would never had to tell what she did. She didn’t want to degrade him. She didn’t want to treat him like he was nothing. He was everything. But she couldn’t forgive herself, how could she expect him to ever forgive her. How could she ever tell him? She still couldn’t tell anyone. Jamie was the only one that held her secret, and he would never tell. He didn’t even like when she threw it in his face, honestly, neither did she. “Especially after what I did,” she whimpered, refusing to look up, even as he invaded her space. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him twenty years ago, but knew he would hate her for taking another piece of him away. Now, she was so unsure of what he’d do, that’s what terrified her. He could get angry and leave; he could shower her with love and affection; today wasn’t the day she was gonna find out. She was more than willing to let him assume whatever was in his head. She did a lot of things over the yeas, whatever he thought, she was probably sorry for that as well. “I hated myself, and took it out of you, I still do,” she had to bite her lip hard to hold back a sob that threatened to burst from her chest, as she felt his lips on her temple. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve anything he did for her; that’s how she felt anyway.

Before Rip could fully think about his next actions, he had her pinned against the wall. He wasn’t rough. He didn’t hold her in place. He was more gentle than he’d ever been. Barely touching her uninjured cheek, wiping the few tears that still fell, as she turned the battered side of her face away. It had been weeks, and she still didn’t like when he looked at her battle wounds. She never flinched when her father or Kacyee, or even Monica showed them attention, but with him, the reaction was centered around shame, guilt. “I wish you’d look at me for more than a few seconds,” he whispered, kissing her temple, as he felt her hands graze his sides. Her lips kissing his bare chest. “For weeks, you’ve laid next to me, but won’t let me see you,” he whispered into her messy curls. It wasn’t entirely true. Rip saw her face plenty, especially while she was sleeping. The bruises and deep cuts around her eye, down her jaw bone, her cheek. She tried to cover it as much as she could when she was awake. Or she kept the lights low and curtains drawn. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, not like she used to; that’s what bothered him.

Beth didn’t like when anyone showed her battle wounds attention, that’s why she ate breakfast alone on the porch most mornings, or with Rip. Of course her father would join her later, but for the most part, she sat alone. She didn’t eat dinner with anyone except Rip. Gator or Jamie usually brought their plates to them. It was one of the few times her brother was genuinely nice to her, worried about her, worried about her. He still refused to bring her the vodka bottle, but would always put a sleeping pill on her tray, just in case she needed it. Never saying a word if it was still there later. She did allow Monica to help her the first few days Rips was in too much pain to breath, let alone move. She apologized for staring at the breakfast table that first day. Beth didn’t ask for an explanation, she knew why the woman was staring, she knew it could happen to her too. “I don’t want you to see how weak I am,” she whispered into his chest. It wasn’t just about being seen as weak. She saw the way Rip looked at her. The guilt and anger in his eyes. The need to take care of her, but not knowing how. Th want to make her feet safe, and it not being enough to stop her fear, her nightmares. He was so angry with himself, she dind’t want to give him anymore reasons to think he was to blame. He couldn’t have gotten to her any faster. He couldn’t have prevented the beating. He should be proud he stopped them from raping her, killing her; leaving her body for them to find later; or not. He saved her from the worst of it.

His Beth, calling herself weak was something Rip never thought he'd hear. He also never thought he’d see her beaten so badly she could barely walk, and still not complain. No one would ever describe her as weak. She was the strongest person he ever met. It hurt him, knowing she couldn’t see that now. That she ignored how hard she fought to survive. How hard she was fighting to heal. “You will never be known for being weak, sweetheart,”
“What happened with Monica in town the other day?” He hadn’t talked with Monica, it wasn’t his place or business, and he knew Beth wasn’t gonna mention it. She wasn’t supposed to be leaving the property, let alone, venturing to her office and town by herself. He overheard John and Kaycee whispering about it when they assumed they were alone. He heard the details. Heard about the damage she’d done to the woman’s shop, but knew it wasn’t anything compared to what Beth did to her emotionally. He was proud of his girl, he always was, even if he didn’t get to tell. Even when she didn’t see it.

Beth hadn’t planned to tell him about the incident in town. He hadn’t even known she left the property. He probably didn’t know she left the house that day. She wasn’t supposed to stay at her office while the repair men were there. Her father didn’t send anyone with her because she promised she was only going to leave her keys with the building owner and retrieve her laptop and work files. She still had a job. She still had to answer emails and phone calls, despite feeling like her personal life was falling apart. She considered Monica lucky, she was already in town when she called. She had already made her excuses to leave the ranch for a few hours, she didn’t need another. She could wander as she pleased. Her face kept people at a distance. “That was different; you weren’t there,” she mumbled into his chest. To Beth, the situations couldn’t have been more different. The look on Monica’s face when she finally found her behind a curtain, alone with a female cop, that she was pretty sure liked women, ignited a violent fire in her belly. An anger she wasn’t allowed to express the night of her attack. She wanted to tear them apart with her teeth. Her sister in law was stripped naked by two police officers that knew her personally, knew both families. Didn’t seem apologetic or remorseful until they found out she was a real Dutton. Didn’t care that they were taking the word of a lying tramp, that used to suck dick for spare change. Didn’t bother to look at a fucking video. She wished Monica would have let her have a few hours of fun with her old friend Veronica. She wanted the bitch to feel more degraded, worthless, as she made her sister in law feel. The men that hurt her were already dead, she couldn’t do anything else to them. She couldn’t bring them back and kill them again. Monica had to see those officers every day. She would see Veronica somewhere in town. And every time she saw them, she’d remember what they did. Have a flash of that moment in her mind. Fear that it might happen again. But as her thoughts grew darker; she realized it was the same. That’s why the younger woman was constantly checking on her, bringing her things she didn’t ask for, sitting with her in complete silence late in the mornings when everyone else was with the cattle and Rip was asleep.

“Monica doesn’t seem to think so.” The fact that Monica wasn’t beaten, wasn’t threatened with rape, was the only difference. She was humiliated, degraded, treated as if she were a thing and not a breathing woman. Her feelings didn’t matter to them. The emotional damage that was done didn’t effect them. The trauma and scars that would never really heal, weren’t bothering their conscious. He doubted they lost sleep over what happened. But Beth and Monica did. “Why do you think you were her first call? Because you have the strength to defend, and not break.” She didn’t call Kaycee. She didn’t tell him about it until he came back from running the horses. She didn’t call John or her own family. She called Beth. Afraid her husband or father in law would kill someone, and they probably would. Her sister in law would make them wish they were never born, that they never knew her name, and never touch them. She could break spirits, souls with her viper tongue, and sharp wit. She could outsmart and out talk anyone in the room. She could make you feel like the smallest, most worthless piece of shit on Earth, and never raise her voice. Saying what everyone felt, but too ashamed or fearful to say out loud. With the memory of an elephant and the fight of a panther, Beth Dutton was the one not to be taken lightly.

Beth felt more than broken; she felt shattered. She felt like something had been taken from her. She didn’t feel the same in her own body. She didn’t feel comfortable. She didn’t feel confident. She put on a front in front of her family. She got some of her anger and rage out with Veronica. But she didn’t feel any better, and she couldn’t tell anyone that. She couldn’t be vulnerable with anyone. She couldn’t cry, scream, tell them she was terrified. Except Rip. The only time she could fall apart was with him holding her. The only time she could grieve and make the swirling memories disappear, was when he was kissing her skin. “I feel pretty broken now,” she whimpered, the tears burning down her cheeks, as she felt him wipe them away. She didn’t know how to put herself back together. She didn’t know how to get the anxiety and constant panic under control. She didn’t know how to make the sound of glass shattering out of her consciousness. The sound of broken pieces under Rips boots. The feel of his hand squeezing hers, as the EMTs tried to control the bleeding. The way he turned into her neck and groaned when they placed his IV. “I can’t get it to stop. I hear them. I feel them. Every time it’s quiet, I hear his breathing in my ear. I feel like I’m losing my mind, Rip,” she chocked back sobs she was tired of letting out. Her throat burned. Her chest and belly ached. Her shoulders and back felt like they were on fire. She just wanted to sleep and not dream. She wanted to not remember what the barrel of the gun felt like against her neck. She needed to forget the look in his eyes, when he forced her legs apart.

Lucky for Rip, she was still looking at the ground when a tear slid down his cheek. He knew she was suffering, he saw it on her face every time she woke up thinking he wasn’t there. He knew the nightmares were bad. He knew the thoughts in her head were worse. Kaycee tried to tell him, she had PTSD. Said he had a friend that used to jump and startle easily, have night terrors so bad it woke up their entire unit. He had to be medically discharged. Rip knew she wasn’t gonna go to therapy. She wasn’t gonna take the medication. She needed him. She needed to talk. She needed time, and patience and to feel safe. She needed to rest for the first time in her life. He could give her that. “Than let me fix it,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, kissing her knuckles, her fingertips. Ready to give her everything and anything she needed. Ready to love her, until the pieces of her shattered heart were melded back together.

That was her cowboy, wanting to fix everything. Wanting to do anything to make her happy. Wanting the answers to her problems. She didn't know if he could solve this one. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel right again. “You can’t fix everything,” she muttered, feeling the calm trying to wash over her, as his lips carefully kissed her cut knuckles and sore fingers. As his presence surrounded her, the thoughts began to slow, the images disappeared. The sound of her own screams muted, replaced by the calming sound of Rips breathing. She knew if she gave in, was patient, took the time, he could heal her. She could allow him to put her back together. To erase the damage that was done to her mind, her body.

Rip didn’t want to fix everything. He didn’t care about much, just her. “Not everything,” he muttered, brushing the stray curls behind her unbruised ear. Running his fingers down her bruised and scratched neck. Watching her bite her bottom lip, as the emotions began to overwhelm her. “Just this,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the bare skin over her heart. Her chest splotched with small cuts and light bruises, but he could feel her pounding heart all the same. He could feel the goosebumps develop on her skin. The tremor run through her body.

Beth couldn’t hold back the chocked sob, as she watched and felt his fingers moving slowly over her racing heart. “Don’t leave me again,” she whimpered, wanting to lean into his touch, but not wanting to expose her face. Not only ashamed of what she allowed to be done, but at her own neediness. She didn’t need anyone. She never cried for anyone. She never begged people to stay. Everyone left, died, or disappointed her in the end. They always found some flaw in her, that was too much to deal with. Everyone had a compliant. Everyone had a story to tell, that involved her screaming or insulting them so deeply, it was almost unforgivable. She said a lot of hurtful, hateful things to the man now holding her. She hurt him over and over again, and still depended on him to put her back together. To protect her. To heal her. “I’m sorry I’m so...” she couldn’t finish, before the sob broke from her chest.

“Look at me,” he whispered, caressing her cheek, tracing her trembling chin. Running his thumb over her bottom lip. Kissing her temple and forehead. Running his other hand along her collarbone. His fingers running down the valley between her full breasts, her belly. Running lightly over her damaged ribs. The sighs and whimpers that filled his ears in response, were always his favorite sounds. The puffs of air that hit his face, as her lips slowly parted to kiss his fingers, were one of the best feelings. He could feel her finally reach for him. Her nails running along his back, before resting against his chest. He was ready to be pushed away. He was prepared to take a step back and give her space. The cowboy was afraid he had pushed her too hard. Left her too soon. Gave her space and time, when she needed him the most. But as he held his breath, ready for the rejection; he felt a shaky breath against his face, as she slowly looked up. Her eyes a light, watery green. The spark he normal saw, was gone. The smile that usually started in her bright green eyes, had disappeared. He hadn’t seen it in weeks. Not since the night before the attack, on the roof, under the stars. She looked terrified, exhausted. But now, he could see her. He watched her soul slowly settle. The hurricane inside her head immediately calm. The tension in her body, disappearing, as he caught her weight. “There she is,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down the right side of her face, for the first time in weeks. Touching her temple, and under her eye, with such tenderness, he knew she could barely feel it. Just when he felt her start to turn away, he kissed her softly. Mindful to avoid the cut on her lip. Nuzzling her nose when she pulled away to take a breath. She still couldn’t breathe through her nose. It was one of the many things that kept her from drifting off to sleep at night, especially if she tried to lay on her back. He carefully kissed the cut above her lip. Moving to her bruised cheek bone when she tried to capture his lips again. The small, stubborn whimper that filled the space between them, only egged him on. He left butterfly kisses along her bruised jaw, her cheek bone, the spot below her ear that made her breath catch. He heard the whispered words of love, she rarely shared. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said low in her ear. Her arms circling his neck, pulling him closer. A sob of relief was the only thing that broke her silence. Her body clinging to him, as if all her fears had been resolved with just a few words. “Come lay with me,” he coaxed, kissing the bruises he could reach on her neck, down her shoulder. Rubbing his hand down her back. When she didn’t try to move, only clinging to him harder, he bent down and lifted her again. Taking her by surprise all over again, but her head immediately feel to his chest. Silently thanking him with soft kisses to his neck. “One day, you’ll realize how loved you are,” he muttered in her ear, as he laid her on the bed, that was larger than he remembered.

Beth was slow adjusting the blankets for her to crawl under. They were freezing against her skin, but as she slid down into their old bed, she felt a warmth begin to spread from her chest. She smelled their love making on the blankets, almost forgetting they were the same ones Rip laid out on the back set when they watched the wolves. When they spent nights together in the foreman’s house, down by the river. The fabric felt familiar on her skin, and she couldn’t help but sigh, and roll to her left side to watch him undress again. Careful not to catch his bandages on the thick blankets as he laid beside her. Lifting his arm, coaxing her back to her safe place. She couldn't stop the gentle smile, as she rested her head on his chest, smelling his scent. Her thigh slowly sliding over his, as he kissed her forehead. For the first time since he left her bed, she felt safe again. She felt his warmth soaking into her freezing skin. She felt his heart gently beating beneath her palm. His nose in her hair. His fingers caressing her bruised hip. “I love you,” she whispered, nuzzling further into his side, as a wave of electricity caused her to tremor. Hearing his repeated words of love whispered quietly in her ear, she could finally breathe. Her mind slowly switched off, as she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.