“Good God, Rowan. I don’t need to hear that.”
“Seriously, Dad. What are you doing out of bed, anyway? You could’ve died yesterday. You need to rest. Beau is going to kill you if you tear open your stitches and start bleeding again.”
Graham and Zach both looked at her, as if to say, Really? You’re giving that lecture? She ignored them both.
Her dad leaned against the doorframe, balancing the shotgun barrel on his good shoulder. “I’m going. But before I do, I’ve got something to say.” His gaze sharpened. “What you do and who you do it with is your business.”
“Thank you very much,” Ro said.
“But I’m not planning on sticking around here for too long. We’ve got our own place to get to, and I was assuming you’d be coming with us.”
Ro’s stomach dropped. Not again.
Rick Callahan’s words were an uppercut to Graham’s gut. The icy cold dread he’d felt two mornings ago returned, ten-fold. He ran through the irrefutable facts in his mind: Rowan had already chosen her family over them once. She’d told them last night that it was the only choice she could make in that situation. Faced with the same options, she’d make the same choice again.
“But sir, you and your daughters are all more than welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. Hell, you can stay forever,” Zach said. “We’d be happy to have you.”
“Well, you may understand this and you may not, but sometimes a man has to have his own place, follow his own path. And staying here would not be that place or that path for me and mine.”
“With all due respect, sir, shouldn’t your family’s safety be your first priority? And they’re safe here,” Zach said, trying a different angle.
“Son, if I wanted you dead, you would never have woken up this morning. I learned a thing or two in the jungle. I can keep my girls safe.”
“But, sir—”
“Let me lay it out for you. If you don’t think Uncle Sam is gonna come knocking on your door sooner rather than later, you boys are crazy. This place is too well prepared not to be on someone’s radar. I don’t plan to be here when that happens, and I don’t want my girls to be here either. When that time comes, if you resist, it’ll be a blood bath. If you don’t, they’ll confiscate your ranch and everything on it under the authority of the National Defense Authorization Act and round you up and take you to some goddamn FEMA camp. It’ll be the same as a concentration camp, complete with a stock of body bags and easy access to mass graves. I’ve been a POW once, and I’m not about to repeat the experience or anything like it. I got a place tucked away where the feds and the military will never think to look.”
Graham watched the color leech from Ro’s face and took in the unnatural stillness with which she held her body. It was all the answer he needed. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. Graham smoothed his features into an expressionless mask before speaking the words he’d never be able to take back.
“We understand your concerns, sir, and respect your decision. We’re happy to have you rest up here until you’re ready to travel, and we’ll supply you and both of your daughters with any additional provisions you need when you all leave.” His stomach twisted as he emphasized the words both and all.
If it was possible, Ro paled further at his words. It occurred to him that they were probably the words she’d wished he’d said when she’d first stumbled into their lives. Hearing them now would crush anything she might feel for him, but he wasn’t going to force her to choose again. This time, he’d take her pain and bear it himself.
Ro wrapped the sheet carefully around herself and slid to the end of the bed. She stared at the wall as she gathered her clothes, not sparing a glance at either him or Zach.
She cleared her throat. “I think we should head to breakfast, Dad. I’ll get dressed and follow you in a minute.” Her words were toneless, robotic.
Rick narrowed his eyes at him and Zach and then nodded and backed out of the room, shotgun in hand. Ro followed closely after him, leaving the bedroom with her clothes clutched to her sheet-covered chest.
“I’ll see you in a few, sweetheart.”
As soon as they heard the front door shut, Zach shoved on his pants and raced to the front room. Graham picked his clothes up off the floor and dressed slowly.
“Don’t think for a second you’re going anywhere, Ro,” Graham heard Zach say resolutely.
“I can’t talk about this right now,” Ro said. “I have to go.” The hitch in her voice was a razorblade to his skin—a self-inflicted slash.
“Baby—”
“Back off, Zach. Your team leader has spoken. It’s done. If you don’t like it, I suggest you take it up with him.”