Page 54 of Surly Sheriff
Beau pushed his food aside, his stomach churning.
Hergrandfather.
He wanted to reach out and grab her hands, tell her she was safe now, that it was over, but she deserved more than mere platitudes.
Rae dropped her gaze, her throat working overtime. “For years he sexually abused my older sister.”
Her sister?And …years?
“Then it was my turn.”
Her impassive tone tore right into his soul.
“But … but yourparents?
She shook her head.
“Mama died when I was six. My father” — she gave a hollow laugh — “he was a useless excuse of a man, totally under control of that spawn of Satan.”
Beau didn’t want to know, but hehadto know. “Did he…?” He swallowed back the rising bile.
She dropped her gaze, briskly rubbing her arms, taking a few hard breaths. In. Out. “Once,” she admitted. “But my sister stopped him before he could … finish. And then” — she lifted anguished eyes to him — “we ran away.”
Rae’s voice was so low he barely heard. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he settled his hands on the table, palms up. After another lengthy moment, she placed her palms on his. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen,” she whispered.
Sweet Jesus Christ.
Rae,hisRae, on the cusp of womanhood, having to run from hergrandfather. Sickened to his marrow, he closed his fingers around her hands, and stroked his thumbs over the tops. “What happened afterward? To you and your sister?”
“I …” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. Maybe … another time.”
Her hesitation told its own story. Whatever followed, it was bad. And he figured they both had suffered sufficient trauma for one day. “Fair enough.”
But.
“Hear me, Rae, and hear me good.” He applied pressure to her hand and waited till she looked at him head-on. “I think you are a strong and courageous woman, and I am honored to be a part of your life.”
“You’re a good man, Beauford Stirling. Far too good for me. And I should do the right thing and leave before we become entangled in each other.”
Too late. He was already in deep.
And the thought of her leaving gutted him. “Please don’t go.”
“I don’twantto go. But I keep messing things up with my” — she huffed — “layers of baggage.”
“And when a new one surfaces, we’ll handle it. Together. Deal?”
Her weighty look broke his heart.
“Deal,” she whispered.
13
Love in a text
She was not replying to his texts. Beau stared at his cellphone, willing her to answer his call. After the eighth ring, he disconnected and contacted June, the sheriff’s office dispatcher, on his radio. “Taking lunch for an hour, June.”
