Theirs To Protect: a Reverse Harem Romance

by Stasia Black

“Isobel. Isobel!” he called as she strode down the sidewalk, not looking back.

  He jogged and caught up with her just as she reached her car that was parked on the street in front of the diner. “Isobel, stop. Shit. I didn’t realize you thought—” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn around when she didn’t move.

  Her mouth was pinched and she refused to look up at him.

  Fuck. There was nothing to do but come out with it. “Janine died a little over a year ago.”

  If he thought saying her name was hard it was nothing to uttering that sentence. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach as soon as he got it out. He dropped Isobel’s shoulders and put a hand against her car to steady himself.

  “What? Oh my God, Hunter. The night we met, you just said she left, so I assumed…” she trailed off and Hunter ran a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah. I haven’t been so great at being able to talk about it. Or deal with it. At all. I even kept on paying her cell phone bill so I could call and hear her voice. It’s only just recently that I’ve been able to…” Hunter paused as a middle-aged woman walked past with a big dog on a leash. The sun had just set and while there weren’t a lot of people around, there were still some.

  “Want to take a walk?” He held out his hand to her.

  She nodded and took it. As soon as he felt her small hand in his, he felt calmer. Like maybe he could tell the story after all. For the first time since giving his statement to the police that night.

  “She hated living in a small town. Almost from the first day we moved in.” He explained a little about how things had gotten worse and worse toward the end.

  “It was one of those nights after we’d, well,” he looked away, “been intimate. But then right afterwards, she left to go sleep on the couch. I got pissed. I followed her and we started fighting.”

  Hunter remembered every detail of that night. Janine had been wearing his ratty old Purdue shirt to sleep in. She was beautiful but he hadn’t been able to see it. He was so tired of the rut they’d fallen into.

  “What do you want from me?” he’d demanded.

  She accused him of not loving her.

  “Not love you?” he scoffed. “You think I’d put up with all this bullshit if I didn’t love you?”

  Her eyes flashed with fury and she got right up in his face. “You don’t even know me! If you knew me at all, you’d know I could never be happy out here in the bu-fuck middle of nowhere, living with all these uncultured hicks. I want to talk to someone who’s read this week’s New Yorker. I want to go to the theater. I want to go to poetry readings and wine tastings and then I want to put on a skimpy sequin dress and go clubbing and then in the morning I want to go eat a bagel and lox at Benny’s on the corner of Broadway and Bleecker.”

  “So, what?” Hunter threw up his hands. “You want to just up and move back to Soho?”

  It was a rhetorical question but Janine shoved her hands on the table and shouted, “Yes! That’s exactly what I want.”

  And then she’d gone to the bedroom and started packing.

  “What?” Hunter had scoffed. “You’re just leaving? Right now?”

  “Right now.”

  “But it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Well I can’t stand spending another minute in this house.”

  Hunter took several steps back from the bedroom at her words. That was when he’d gotten it. She meant it. She was actually leaving him. It had come to this. How had it come to this?

  His wife. His beautiful, neurotic, infuriating wife, was about to walk out the front door and out of his life.

  And that was when he knew none of the rest of it mattered. Not the mortgage on the house. Not the veterinary practice he was in the process of taking over from Dr. Roberts. Not even his parents.

  Janine was his wife. She was his first priority. And he’d failed her. He could deny it all he wanted her, but he’d known she was unhappy.

  Hunter looked over at Isobel. They’d stopped walking right by the little city park along main street. Her eyebrows were drawn in compassion as she listened to him talk.

  “Just a little more time, I kept telling myself.” He shook his head at how stupid he’d been. “Just a little more time and she’ll adjust.”

  “But if you realized that… Before she left, I mean,” Isobel said, confused.

  Hunter shook his head again. “It was too late. I tried to talk to her. I said that okay, we’d move to Manhattan. That I wanted to go with her. That I was sorry. That she was the most important thing to me.”

  But Janine had pulled away from him and grabbed her suitcase. She said she needed some time by herself. She said she had to think.

  “And then she got into her car and drove off.” Hunter’s voice was bleak and Isobel reached out and took both of his hands.

  “What happened?”

  “Car accident,” Hunter whispered. “It was winter. The roads were icy. Her car slid on a curve and she ran into a tree. Died on impact.”

  Hunter had to strain to get the next words out. It was the worst bit of all—the part that kept him up at night torturing himself. “But from the time of night and the angle of her car—” His voice broke but he shook himself, determined to tell Isobel everything.

  “She wasn’t leaving town. It was right before dawn. She’d driven about two hours away and had turned around. She was coming back. For me. She left because of me and came back because of me. She died because of me.”

  Isobel’s hands went to his face. “No, Hunter, no, that’s not true—”

  “I know,” he nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

  “Do you?” Her eyes searched his.

  He huffed out a short, slightly bitter laugh. “Knowing in here,” he tapped his head, “and believing in here,” he put a hand to his chest, “are two different things.”

  He breathed out, feeling like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. “But I’m glad you know now. After Janine…” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I could ever feel that way again. That I’d ever want to.”

  He reached up and covered one of her hands on his cheek. “But then you came to town. Even after that first night, I was already feeling so much for you. I’d been a dead man walking for a year and then—” He looked her in the eye. “It scared the shit out of me. You scared the shit out of me.”

  Isobel smiled, her eyes full. She flipped his hand so she could kiss his palm.

  “But I’m not scared anymore.” He moved back but still held her hands tight. “Bel, I love you. I can’t lose you. It’ll be August in a couple more weeks. I told myself not to think about the future, to just take this one day at a time. But dammit, Bel, I can’t do that anymore.”

  “Because I want a future with you. I want it all. I want to wake up with you every morning and have babies with you and grow old together. I won’t make the same mistake twice. We can live wherever you want to. Whatever will make you happy. As long as it’s together.”

  And then he dropped to one knee. “Isobel Bianca Snow, will you marry me?”

  Chapter 22

  ISOBEL

  “No!” Isobel jerked her hand away from his. She didn’t mean to. It was just automatic.

  But God, everything he’d just said, God. Growing old with her? Babies?

  He had no idea. This man who’d already been so broken by the last woman he’d loved. He had no idea about her.

  She saw the devastation hit his face at her rejection.

  “Hunter, you don’t—” She scrambled for words to make him understand. The last month had been the happiest of her life. Of course she wanted a future with him.

  But that didn’t mean it was something she had to give. God, look how obsessive she’d gotten after seeing the picture of his wife. All the old thoughts and insecurities had come roaring back in spite of the progress she thought she’d made since coming here.

  She hadn’t even meant to snoop. She’d just opened up the glove compartment and foun
d the picture frame, face down.

  As soon as Isobel flipped it over, all the air had swooped out of her chest.

  In the picture, Hunter stood side by side with a gorgeous, petite blonde. Isobel’s eyes had immediately zeroed in on the woman. She had such a tiny waist. Like impossibly tiny. Barbie tiny. And her clavicles. They were sharp, jutting out just like the models in magazines did. In fact, the woman might have well been a model.

  The Hunter in the picture looked at the woman like she was his sun and moon and stars.

  Like she was his life.

  And Isobel’s head had immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusions. Which was why she had to refuse his ridiculous proposal.

  Didn’t he see how screwed up she was? How crazy?

  The furrow in Hunter’s brow moved from pained to confused. But God, how did she even begin to explain? Apparently he was running out of patience, though.

  “Talk,” Hunter demanded. “Tell me why we can’t have a future together. Do you not feel the same way about me? I know this is fast.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can slow down. Shit. I’m sorry. We can—”

  “Hunter,” she cut him off, pained. “Stop. There are things you don’t know about me. About my past.” She looked down at the sidewalk. “And my family.”

  “Then tell me.” Hunter put a finger underneath her chin to lift her face. “I want to know everything about you.”

  Isobel pulled away from his grasp and walked to the center of the park where there was a white gazebo. A couple street lamps lit the path. “You say that now. But you don’t know.” She shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes.

  “Don’t tell me what I want.” His voice was dark as he moved to keep stride beside her.

  God, he wasn’t going to let it drop, was he? She took a deep breath. He’d revealed things about himself tonight and now it was her turn to be brave.

  “My mother committed suicide when I was eight years old. She hung herself from the ceiling fan in her bedroom while my dad was at work. I was the one who found her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Hunter hissed out and then the next thing she knew, his strong arms were around her, pulling her to his chest. “When you were just eight?”

  Isobel nodded into his chest. For a moment, just a moment, she let herself absorb his warmth and comfort, but then she pulled away from him. She needed to get the rest of this out. She needed him to understand.

  “That’s not all.” Her voice was little above a whisper. “My whole life everyone told me how much like my mom I was. I looked like her. I was quiet and bookish like her. But only my dad knew that I was emotional and had black moods like she did. Still, everyone talked. After she…” Isobel’s voice trailed off. “Well, after that, it was like everyone was just waiting for me to turn out the same. To turn out crazy like her.”

  Hunter’s nostril’s flared. Isobel cringed, waiting for him to pull away from her. “People said that to you?”

  Isobel shrugged. “It was just the way the grown-ups would look at me. But they must have talked about it behind closed doors because the kids would say it to my face.” Insane Isobel, gonna crack like crackers. Just like her mom.

  “I started seeing a therapist right after Mom died. Apparently I was very at risk. That was the term they used. At risk.”

  “Motherfuckers,” Hunter spat. “Your dad was okay with that?”

  Isobel shrugged. She didn’t really remember a lot about Dad from that period. He worked a lot and she spent most of her time with the nanny and her therapist.

  Isobel walked up the gazebo steps. Hunter hurried behind her and swiped a little dirt off the bench seat so they could sit down. It was easier, telling him all this in the dark where she didn’t have to look at his face.

  “Anyway, a couple years later, he got remarried. A woman named Catrina. I didn’t get along with her very well. There were a few rough years.” She didn’t want to go into all that. It was hard enough to get this out as it was. She finally turned toward Hunter. “What I’m trying to get at with all this is that they were right. I did turn out just like my mom.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Isobel’s hands fidgeted in her lap. Then she took a deep breath. Now or never. “I tried to commit suicide when I was sixteen.” Isobel squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to see if he cringed or pulled away from her. “It was right after I’d gotten out of a clinic for an eating disorder. I didn’t feel like being there had fixed anything and when I got home, things with my stepmom were harder than ever. So I swallowed some pills. A lot of p—”

  She couldn’t even finish her sentence before one of Hunter’s arms went around her waist and the other pressed her head to his chest.

  “Christ, Bel, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” He laid his cheek on her head.

  The tears she’d been keeping back finally spilled over. She tried to pull away from Hunter but he just kept her pressed fast to his chest. Goddamn him. Didn’t he realize every second he held her meant it would hurt that much worse when he didn’t want her anymore?

  “You’re not listening,” she said, pounding at him. “I’m trying to tell you how fucked up I am. My eating disorder relapsed just this summer after my dad died and—”

  “Your dad just died?” Hunter finally pulled her back, only far enough so that he could look at her face.

  She wiped furiously at her tears, hating that he was seeing her like this. “At the beginning of April. But Hunter, you’re missing the point. I’m—”

  “You were grieving,” he said firmly. “Who wouldn’t be screwed up by that.” Then he cupped her cheeks, holding her face in a firm grip. “Do you still think about hurting yourself?”

  “No.” The response was automatic. And true. “Even when it’s bad, I’ve never gone there again.”

  Hunter nodded, then pulled her tight to him again. “Because you know, deep down, you deserve everything. A good, full life. You’re worthy, Isobel Bianca Snow. You’re beautiful and you deserve every good thing life has for you.”

  How could he— Hadn’t he just heard what she’d—

  She jerked violently away from him, shoving him back and stumbling to her feet. “I’m broken. I’m no good for someone like you. No matter how hard I try, it won’t make a difference. I’ll always end up back there.” She threw a hand behind her. “Don’t you get it? I’m terrified all the time. Why do you think I run so much?”

  Isobel put her hands to her head and looked upwards at the dark gazebo ceiling. “Every day I see her there, hanging. God, it was so horrible. How could she do that?” Her voice was getting hysterical but she didn’t care. “How could she just leave me? Why didn’t she love me enough?”

  “No, Isobel, don’t say that.” Hunter got to his feet and approached her but she held her hand out to stop him.

  “It’s true. I wasn’t good enough for my own mother.”

  “Christ, Bel. She was just sick, she didn’t—”

  “Exactly.” She was crying so hard her tears nearly blinded her. “And I’m sick the same way. What if I did that to you? Or God forbid I ever…” Her hands went to her stomach. Oh God, she and Hunter hadn’t always been safe when they’d had sex… Wait no, she’d just had her period a couple weeks ago and they’d been using condoms since then. She dropped her hands and breathed out in relief.

  But a man like Hunter deserved children. And she’d never trust herself around them. She sobbed so hard her chest hurt.

  “Please let me hold you.” Hunter’s voice was ragged. “It’s killing me seeing you like this and not holding you.”

  Isobel didn’t have anything left so she just shrugged. Hunter must have taken that as a yes because he dragged her against him. Then he sat down on the bench and pulled her into his lap, cradling her to his chest.

  He rubbed her back and whispered soothing sounds in her ear. “Shhh, you’re going to be all right. It’s all going to be okay. I promise. Do you hear me, Bel? I swear we’re goin
g to make it all turn out okay.”

  Isobel just buried her face in his chest. She hadn’t even told him about Catrina or the real reason she’d come to Wyoming yet. She didn’t have the strength for it right now. His arms around her felt so good, so safe. When he said everything would be all right, stupidly, impossibly, she wanted to believe him.

  She knew better. Lord above, she knew better. Good things didn’t last. She couldn’t shed her DNA like last winter’s coat. She couldn’t outrun it, no matter how hard she kept trying.

  Her hands fisted in Hunter’s shirt as she tried to gather the strength to do the right thing—to push him away for his own good once and for all.

  But before she could muster it, his phone started ringing in his jeans pocket.

  “Shit,” he swore. “I’m on call. I have to get that.”

  She nodded and climbed off his lap. To be honest, she was glad for the interruption. She was so confused. Being in Hunter’s arms felt amazing. Like always, it felt right.

  It was selfish to want him, though, when she was a ticking time bomb. She crossed her arms over her chest while Hunter stood up and answered the phone.

  He nodded several times. “How long has the cow been down?” More nodding. Hunter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay Alex, I’ll be out there in thirty minutes.”

  He hung up the phone and looked over at Isobel. She tried for a wan smile. “So we’re off to look at a sick cow?”

  Hunter breathed out. He clicked his phone back on and checked the time. “About that. I’m supposed to be getting you down to Bubba’s for a nightcap.”

  “What?” Isobel asked in confusion.

  “God, Mel’s gonna kill me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But it’d be shitty to just send you in there like this. It’s a surprise party.”

  Isobel’s face must have shown just how horrified she felt by the idea because Hunter crossed the short space between them and took her hands.

  “Look, it’s shit timing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this. I was supposed to make you feel special on your birthday and instead I brought up all this heavy shit. And now I’ve got to leave and take care of this call.” He winced. “Why don’t I just call Mel and tell her you’re tired and not up for it tonight?”