The front door slammed. Graham heard a crunch as Zach punched through the cheap wooden paneling that lined the front room.
“What the fuck, man?” Zach exploded as he burst into the bedroom. “Just … What. The. Fuck? If you weren’t my best friend … I would kill you right now. Please tell me this is another elaborate plan to get her to stay.”
Graham remained mute as he sat on the bed and pulled on his boots.
“You gotta talk to me, man. Because you just fucked up the best thing that ever happened to us. We just got it all figured out.” Zach raked his hands through his already disheveled hair and yanked.
Graham tucked his sidearm into his holster and hooked the radio onto his belt. He chose his words carefully before he faced Zach.
“What exactly do you think we had figured out? Because her dad just turned the clock back by two days, and if you think for a minute that she wasn’t going to make the same choice she made before, then you’re a fucking idiot.” Graham swallowed, proud his voice didn’t shake.
“So what? You decided to make the choice for her? ‘Here’s some supplies, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.’ That’s your answer? Because it’s a piss poor one, and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself.”
“What I did was save her from having to tear herself apart trying to choose between us and her family again. It was the right thing to do.” Zach shrank back as Graham roared the last words.
“Making her think she meant nothing to you was the right thing to do? You might as well have slapped her across the face. And in front of her dad? The fact that he didn’t unload that shotgun shows that he’s a better man than me, because you just tossed his daughter out of your bed like she was garbage. I feel like I don’t even fucking know you.” Zach spun and left the room. Graham flinched as the cabin shuddered with the force of the slamming door.
Ro was thankful for the numbness that settled over her. It was like her body and mind had gotten together and decided she didn’t need to process whatever the hell had just happened. It was certainly better than feeling like Graham had ripped several vital organs from her body and ground them beneath the heel of his combat boot. In front of her father, no less. That was a humiliation she’d rather not relive.
Her reeling mind said she probably wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of a repeat while locked in whatever bunker her father had provisioned. After this morning, the lack of men in their party might merit a solid check in the ‘pro’ column if she was weighing her alternatives.
Her dad sat on one of the picnic table benches on the covered patio outside the mess hall. She cynically supposed she probably owed him a thank you for bringing Graham’s true colors to light sooner rather than later. Although, after last night, that thought rang false. The declarations of love and then making love ... It had been more than just sex. It had been … reverent. She’d felt worshipped when they’d taken her together. It had seemed like they’d finally figured out how to move forward as a unit. But now, in the light of day, it was like Graham would rather push her away than risk deepening their connection and eventually losing her. Ro stumbled. Was that his motive? Or did he really not care? The latter was hard to swallow, but Ro’s confidence in her ability to discern a person’s motives was still too tattered after the Evelyn-Charles incident. People made declarations of love all the time without meaning them, and apparently Graham was no different. Her dad stood, interrupting her musings.
“Now, sweetheart, before you get upset …” he started.
“I’m not upset with you,” she said, cutting him—and the conversation—off. “But why are you up and around already? Shouldn’t Beau have you chained to a cot in the clinic?”
“You know me, broke my leg and the next day I was harvesting the west field, using my crutches to help me steer. Life doesn’t stop just because it’d be more convenient for you.”
Ro smiled weakly as her father dished out his own brand of wisdom. For a paranoid country bumpkin, he was a pretty smart man. One who’d never waivered in his support of her, her sister, or their dreams. Graham and Zach had been dealt piles of shit when it came to their childhoods; she’d gotten so lucky, but hadn’t appreciated what she had. A rush of emotion pummeled the wall of numbness. She dropped onto the bench next to him and rested her head on his uninjured shoulder. If there were a ‘Worst Daughter of the Year’ award, it would go to Rowan Callahan.