Knotted (Trails of Sin, #1)

by Pam Godwin

She’s my past, my present, and my future. I’m everything when I’m with her and nothing without her.

“It’s just us.” “And it’s meant to be.” I grasp her thigh and squeeze. “That’s all we need.”

I have you. You’re my girl. I’m sorry I restrained you. I’m sorry I can’t take your pain. You’ll survive this.

I don’t know how we’ll come back from this. It’s worse than the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.

They hurt my girl from the inside out, extinguished her glow, and made her bleed. They’ll die for that.

“She can’t walk and shouldn’t be on her feet,” he says to Jarret, slinging the shotgun across his back. “Take care of her.” My molars crash together. “It’s not his job to take care of me.” It’s yours.

“This is going to change us.” “We won’t let it.” “You believe that?” “No.” He blows out a breath. “But you’re still my future sister-in-law. Jake’s still my brother. Lorne’s still my best friend.”

Jake was supposed to be my first. My one and only.

I don’t pretend to understand the depth of hurt that’s been done to her or what she needs to heal. If it had been me in that ravine enduring what she did, I’m not sure I’d ever leave my bed.

She’s stronger, more resilient, and she’ll overcome the physical trauma without complaining about the pain. Maybe she doesn’t need me hovering over her like a mother hen. But I need it. I need her to know she’s not alone.

She’s my home, and I’ll never let her go. It’s not even in the scope of possibilities.

“No matter what, we stay together. Miles, months, cities, years…” Her breath strangles. “We’re bigger than anything that tries to come between us.”

Why is he doing this? She’ll be alone, more lost than ever. Her mental state’s already in shambles. How will she heal without the support and comfort of home?

“I failed her again.” My heart drowns in the carnage. She’s gone.

I ache to go home. I miss Ketchup. I need Jake.

I just need my home. My family. Jake. 928 miles. Two years. It’s not so far, even though it seems like it. Will Lorne forgive me for not visiting? Will Jarret still love me? Will Jake wait for me?

This is what death feels like. The shattering, unstoppable separation between life and the bleeding remains of the soul. There’s no countermeasure. No resuscitation. I’ve taken my last breath as Jake Holsten’s girl.

My blood runs cold. He used to represent protection and security, but that was before he hurt me with betrayal.

“Your dad—” “Not my dad anymore.” His rigid posture vibrates with the promise of brutality. “What did he—?” “It’s over.” I put the key in the ignition. “That’s why you came home.” “No, Jake.” I fire up the engine, drowning out my whisper. “You were.”

When Lorne was hauled away, I lost a vital part of myself. When I was separated from the ranch, I became half a person. When I left Dad face down on the couch, more pieces of me tore loose. But I still had something left. I still had Jake. Now I have no one, nothing, and nowhere to go. I’m completely carved out.

I leave the girl who loved a boy with her whole heart.

Of course, Conor didn’t mention it in her messages. She’d rather suffer quietly than worry us. And now she believes she’s truly alone.

Gravel crunches beneath the angry tread of boots behind me. I square my shoulders, brace for what’s coming, and turn to face my brother. His first strike hits hard and swift, directly across my mouth. I stumble back, welcoming the spurt of blood. Relishing the pain. I deserve it.

I didn’t sexually or intimately touch Sara. I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t remove my boxers. I didn’t even get wood. I’m still a virgin, because I love Conor Cassidy.

Jarret wanted to guard her without hurting her. He wanted her to stay far away without giving her a reason. He wanted the impossible. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that would’ve kept her from returning home. Not her father. Not the threat against her life. Not the trails of sin and corruption running beneath the ranch. I did the only thing I could to protect her. I broke her heart, because I love her.

All I know is I’d rather Conor live without me than not live at all.

I’ll make sure she realizes her dream, because I love her. I’ll hunt down her enemies. I’ll protect her from afar. I’ll let her believe I don’t love her. Because I love her.

Shouldn’t you ask her what she wants?

I’m not an artisan. Just a girl who misses her cowboy with every stitch and solder, every hour and mile, every inhale and exhale. I made this with all that I am for the one I’ll never stop loving. C

She gave me a bracelet on her birthday. A precious, invaluable piece of heaven. And I gave her torment, heartbreak, and hell. I made her believe I let her go.

I’ve never had real sex. Not the kind that involves mutual participation and trust. Not the skin-heating, orgasm-inducing, elusive kind I hungered for with Jake Holsten.

This is how sex is supposed to be. Respectful. Healthy. Willing.

That girl misses Jake. I miss him. I mourn his absence more and more every day, and I despise myself for it. I hate that he has such an unbreakable hold on me. A hold that makes my stomach cramp over what I did tonight. I cheated on him.

He let me go. But I didn’t let him go. I don’t know how to do that, and goddammit, it hurts. I feel that pain like the strike of Dalton’s hand across my face.

Forgiveness is the biggest hurdle, but it’s not the only one. I need to deal with the boyfriend, her PTSD, her completion of veterinary school, and all the shit poisoning the ranch and our families.

Her return to Sandbank is a risk, but my patience has run out. Her schooling’s almost complete, and I have a damn good handle on the danger against her. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting her go this time.

Didn’t know we were just trying to protect her.” He thumbs his ear, and his face tightens. “Sometimes I think we shouldn’t have made that decision for her.”

Thank you, Jarret

“If you don’t confront it, you won’t defeat it.” “I’m getting by just fine,” she says quietly. “That’s right. You’re getting by.”

But every step I take will be carried out with complete honesty, control, and care.” And love. I love her so goddamn much, but she’s not ready for that truth. That’s why we’re here.

I look back at his bed and imagine wrapping myself up in his manly cowboy scent. I want that so badly I shiver. Because I’m a dumb, pathetic girl who will never ever, ever, ever get over Jake Holsten.

“You’re the first woman who’s ever been in this room.”

My God, I miss my guitar. I miss playing it with Lorne. I miss my brother.

“We didn’t know about your dad,” Jarret whispers quietly, his voice tinged with pain. “But you knew something was going on here. Instead of telling me, you alienated me. Sheltered me. Made decisions about my life.”

“I spent six years wondering. Beating myself up. Because the three people who matter most to me in the world abandoned me, and I didn’t know why.”

Jake lives by a code of etiquette that embodies southern manners, such as inviting in visitors, ma’aming and siring, and tipping his hat at the ladies. But his good ol’ boy upbringing also means he will fuck someone up if he thinks one of his own is threatened or harmed.

“I’ll give you a few seconds to be single.” He bends his knees, putting his face in mine. “But don’t get used to it.”

“You’re mine.” “No,” I say louder and push him back. “I’m not yours. You let me go!”

I shove him again. “The day I went to Chicago, do you remember what I said? No matter what, we stay together.” Another shove, and another, over and over until my hands grow furious, slapping, balling into fists, and pounding. “We were supposed to stay together. We were better than this!” Silent and unresponsive, he lets me pummel him.

“You ignored me for two years.” The side of my fist hits his chest. “I needed you. I was alone and scared and my dad…” Tears burn my eyes, and tremors shake my hands, weakening my strikes. “I just needed to hear your voice.” “Miles, months, cities, years… That’s what you said.” He touches a knuckle under my chin, lifting it. “We’re bigger than anything that tries to come between us.” “You threw me away.” “I kept you safe.”

“It’s too late.” “No.” He clutches the back of my head. “Tomorrow is too late.” He captures my mouth in a kiss that ignores logic and reasoning. With a hand in my hair and the other on my hip, he bends me into his heat and sets fire to my world.

“I need to be alone.” Her gaze lowers to my chest and skitters away. “You’ve been alone for six years.” I grip her chin and force her to look at me. “No more.”