Page 20 of Finding Denver
Ranger
Soft kisses across my shoulders wake me, and I open my eyes. A warm hand glides across my back, and a familiar voice says, “Good morning. You got home late.”
I smile and turn onto my back. Denver straddles me, grinning. It’s been three days since the ceremony, since I almost lost her, and she seems to be getting better. She took my advice and turned off her phone, letting me deal with any emergencies, and has spent these last few days trying to relax. She’s been antsy, staring at her dark phone screen, chewing her lip, peppering me with questions when I deal with an issue at her clubs or coffee shops.
Remarkably, I haven’t had to do much. Denver’s businesses work almost seamlessly without her, with provisions and people in place who could step in on short notice, knowing exactly what they need to do. She runs a tight fucking ship, and although that makes me proud of her, it also makes this decision easier.
She isn’t needed by them, but she is needed by me.
I brush her hair back, and she smiles but avoids my eye as she leans down for a kiss. “What’s wrong?”
She freezes. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” I cup the back of her neck gently. “Tell me.”
She sighs, shifting on top of me. “You know Colt called?”
I resist lifting my lip. “Yes.”
“He mentioned some land that could be good for another casino. It’s been on my mind.”
“You’re taking tips from Colt Harland now?”
She sighs. “No, but it’s made me think that I shouldn’t just give up.”
Not happening.
I’ve had a few days of the old Denver back, and she can’t slip into these habits already. I grip her hips gently, making small circles on her skin. “We agreed less work, didn’t we?” She nods quietly, once again avoiding my eye. “Denver, you need this break. You need to take time. You went through something fucking traumatizing.”
“I’m okay.”
“Land can wait. Casinos can wait. They’ll always be there.”
“But if the McEwans sell?—”
I drop my hands, my concern for her twisting into a heated snake in my chest. It curls around my heart as it desperately tries to beat.
I’ve avoided the McEwans my entire life. Finn McEwan has been the head of that family for decades, and his brother, Rory, is—was—my father. I was the result of Rory’s affair with my mom, and I knew from a young age that my dad wasn’t a good man—it was fairly fucking obvious by how he treated us. While Rory was playing the doting father to his other kids Ronan and Danielle, I was forgottenand so was my mother. We had nothing. The McEwans had everything. There were days we didn’t eat. Months we couldn’t pay rent. Life was fucking hell.
When my dad died, Finn tried to worm his way into my life, but I knew by then that all McEwans had an agenda. So even when my mom passed shortly after, I didn’t go to them for help. I was sixteen and had a newborn to feed and a girlfriend I didn’t like, but I vowed never to ask a McEwan for a fucking thing.
There’s also their vested interest in Denver, and that’s a Pandora’s box I refuse to open again.
I wrap my arm around her waist and move her onto the bed so I can stand. My blood feels hot. Uncomfortable.
“You’re not going near the McEwans.” I stride to the en suite, aggressively brushing my teeth as she sits in silence and no doubt tries to work out a way to manipulate me into this decision. I rinse my mouth out and wait, and sure enough, she appears in the doorway. “Don’t fucking ask me again, Denver. I saidno,” I rage, facing her. “I do not trust Finn McEwan. Not after what he did to me, to my mother?—”
She holds her hands up. “Okay, okay. I understand?—”
“No, you fucking don’t!” I boom and she falls quiet. “You have no idea what it’s like to not eat for days, knowing the rest of that family was living the life of luxury. To live in a damp, mold-filled apartment, coughing yourfuckinglungs up, while your half-siblings were on vacation. We were forgotten, Denver. Left to fucking rot. So no, you do not get it, you will never get it, and I forbid you to associate with that fucking family!”
Silence falls. A heavy shroud of it. My throat burns from raising my voice, and something feels dislodged in my chest. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten so close to her, that herback is against the doorframe, her eyes wide. I’m gripping her wrist, but I don’t remember taking it.
Denver glances to where I’m holding her, then back at my face. “You’re right.”
“Yes, I’m fucking right,” I say, and back away from her. My skin is hot, my breathing unsteady, and I look at my shaking hands. “I’m right.”
“You are.” Denver wraps her arms around me, pressing her cheek to my chest. “I’m sorry.”
