The Reaper's Runaway Princess novel · Chapter 14 of 24

Chapter 14: Boone

By noon on Friday, the rain had stopped.

The four Garrisons were sitting on the floor of her back office.

Mara sat on the cot above them with the brindle hound's head on her knee.

"You've all been careful with me for three days," she said. "Stop it. I'm going to tell you what my marriage was, and you're going to let me finish."

Nobody answered.

"He locked the bedroom door from outside. I had a key to the bathroom and nothing else."

Boone looked at his hands.

"He told me when to eat and what to wear. When I answered back, he hurt me where the sleeves would cover it. When I didn't, he hurt me anyway, to teach me the difference."

Nash was breathing through his teeth.

"He came to my bed whenever he wanted, and I said yes every time, because no was a bruise." Her voice stayed flat. "That's all of it. I don't want it fixed, and I don't want you to say you're sorry. I wanted you to know."

Wyatt's jaw worked once.

"We know," he said. "Thank you for telling us."

"Then here's what I want next." She stroked the hound's ear. "Rodney is going to say what he said this morning to the whole club, Sunday, at the table, with my father in the room. That's what he owes."

"He'll be killed," Dean said.

"Maybe."

"And you're fine with that?"

"I'm fine with him choosing it himself," she said. "Nobody's deciding for either of us."

Dean looked at his brothers, and Wyatt gave one slow nod.

They left her alone with the dog.

Boone stayed.

He was still on the floor, big knees drawn up, looking at the scuffed linoleum.

"I should go," he said.

"You should come here."

"Mara."

"Please."

He got up and sat on the very edge of the cot, as far from her as it allowed.

The whole frame creaked.

"I printed three hundred flyers with your face," he said. "I kept one. I put a hundred thousand miles on my truck. I'd have done another hundred thousand."

"I know. You told me in the dark, with my hand on your heart."

"It's still going fast."

"Boone. Put your hand on mine."

He did.

His palm covered the whole back of her hand, rough and enormous and warm.

"Rule two," he said, very softly.

"I'm starting it."

"You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I'm not proving anything." She turned her hand over so their fingers locked. "You were the one who sat with me when I cried. I'd like to be the one who sits with you."

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