14. Roxie
Fourteen
Roxie
A familiar comfort overcomes me as I walk out to the horse barn. When it comes to the animals, my dad is a creature of habit. Given the time of day, I know I’ll find him out with the horses. If he isn’t with the horses, he’ll be making his rounds to the families on the property. After everything I experienced growing up, and the bullshit our family in Wyman went through, I thought continuing the mission of helping would be too much. I know it sounds awful, but it was a true fear I held. It was a pointless fear, though. The second we helped our first family escape their abusive father and lock him away, I knew this was what my family was meant to do.
But as much as this place comforts me, I also can’t escape the feeling of unease. Not because of the families, or the animals, or even hiding my relationship with Max. No, it’s because, despite trying, my dad and I are still in a weird place.
His hardheadedness, compared with mine, doesn’t make for easy reconciliation. I admit that I, too, am as stubborn as he is. While he isn’t mine biologically, he raised me. I already had a complicated, challenging, and stubborn streak due to who my mother is. Add in Dizz for a dad, and it was bound to be amplified by one hundred.
I love him, though, which is why I’m here.
I wanted to go to Max, but deep down, I knew my dad was who I needed more. It was hard not to let the fear of being followed consume me as I drove down the drive. The person who followed me knew what they were doing. What made it worse was not knowing if they were trying to intimidate me or if they truly wanted to hurt me.
Those thoughts left my mind the moment I pulled up in front of the house. As I continue to make my way to the barn, I think back to only a few minutes ago when my siblings made everything better for a moment.
“Hey, aren’t you guys supposed to be in school, learning how to take over the world or something?” I laugh as I hug them. They may range anywhere from ten to sixteen years younger than me, but I love it. I’m honestly obsessed with these crazy kids, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about them.
“We had a half day today!” Flynnly jumps up and down. “Can you come do crafties with us in the play room?”
“You did? Lucky! Tell you what, I’ll track you down later for craft time, okay? But I need to talk to Dad first. Do you know where he’s hiding? You didn’t lock him up again in the dungeon, did you?”
“You know he won’t play that game anymore.”
I can’t help but laugh loudly, “Because you literally locked him in the basement safe.”
“He was in the dungeon! It was by command of the king. Why does no one get this?” Remy explains as if that makes it all okay.
“We’ll, maybe one day we can convince him that the next time you play, you won’t actually lock him in there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure,” Remy says in a not-at-all-convincing tone.
“Alight, come on. I’m gonna assume Dad’s with the horses.”
“Yeah, he’s in his office at the barn. He’s been out there for a while. He came out, said good morning, then told Mom to make sure everyone leaves him alone.” Belle says sadly.
“Well, that won’t do, will it? I’ll talk to him. Go start your crafts, I’ll be back.” I turn and walk toward the barn before I stop and turn back to my siblings. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’ve been working a lot, but I’ll try and be around more, too.” I’d walked back so I could give them each a hug before I headed off to find our dad.
I look around the farm I grew up on. I went from the farm in Wyman to the one here in Heart. I loved growing up this way. It’s a different life growing up in an atmosphere surrounded by animals. I loved being able to take care of them. Plus, I like animals a lot more than I like people, which is funny given my profession.
Sometimes, I think about how I should have gone to school to help the families my parents help, but I realized something right away with that: it would never work. My trauma from when I was younger, I’ve made peace with it. I’ve accepted that my life is what it is, but I can’t handle listening to others. There are times when I can discuss it with someone, especially if I care about them, but I wouldn’t be able to listen to new traumas day in and day out. I’m tough, but I know I’m not mentally tough enough for that. And it wouldn’t be fair to those who need the help.
Plus, there are times when I’d rather just take care of it the way my dad and his MC do. He shelters us from it, but I know the truth. My mom does, too.
I smile as I think back to when I wouldn’t stop asking questions. The older I got, the more I wanted to know. The more I wanted to learn. For a while, I was positive I was going to be a member. It was my calling. I would help my dad with everything, rise through the ranks, and when the time came, I’d take over and be the President.
I can’t help but thinking if I were a member, I wouldn’t need this backup plan he’s so desperate for me to have. At the same time, he’d probably pull rank and demand it.
“I said no!” I hear my dad bark as I knock on his office door. I try the handle, but he’s locked himself in there. “Get back to work! I am busy!” Geez, who pissed in his cornflakes?
I contemplate finding Mom, having her come here, and talking Dad down from his ledge. I want to talk it out with him, but I can’t if this mood continues. If you want to work it out with him, having your mom handle this is not the way to go about it. Fuck, I hate when I’m right. I knock softly and bring out the big gun, “Daddy?”
I hear boots shuffle, and a split second later, my dad, my first best friend in life and one of my fiercest protectors, is standing in front of me.
I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline from being followed, missing my dad and who we were so much, or the broken look in his eyes when he opened the door for me, but I can’t help the emotions that bubble up to the surface. I jump to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He stands shocked still for a minute before he wraps his arms around my back, holding me against him.
I sob my apologies for being so stubborn and pushing him away. He makes soothing shush noises as he leads me into his office to close the door. He doesn’t break contact as he closes it. I can’t bring myself to let him go just yet. I need to be a little girl, holding her dad for comfort for just a few more moments.
“I let it get too far,” Dad tells me after a while of us standing there. “I was like a dog with a bone and couldn’t see reason. I wanted to think I knew better than you for what was best for you.” He’s rambling now, and I can’t help the giggle that bubbles up. I pull back and look him in the eyes.
“Oh, what a pair we make, hmm, Dad?” I smile. It’s the first genuine smile in what feels like a year. He nods, using his hands to wipe away the wetness from my cheeks. Holding my face in his palms, he leans in to place a soft, loving kiss on my forehead.
“I am sorry. I see it now and understand why you were so mad at me. Why your mom was so mad at me.” I must make a face because he laughs while shaking his head, “Oh, yeah. She was, is maybe still, so mad because of, and I quote, “my dickhead mindset.” It’s taken a lot, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize I needed to let you make your own path in life. Trust me, clarity is here. I wanted to talk to you a while ago, but you weren’t ready to hear me yet.” he explains as he looks into my eyes so I can see his sincerity.
“I think I was more hurt than mad at that point. Pushing you away, I knew, would cause hurt, and I felt justified in that. Until you stopped coming by, stopped trying to call me. Stopped pushing for anything. You weren’t there anymore, and that opened my eyes to what you were trying to say. It also gave me the time to reflect and realize how much I still need you.
I’ll be fifty and still need my dad. Your bad advice and all.” I smile at him.
Seeing his smile light up his face is a sight I didn’t realize I missed. Who knew being chased by a psycho in a van was going to break the crap Dad and I have been going through? The thought of the guy or girl following me brings a stab of fear through me.
I contemplated telling him why I was there when his office door busted open to reveal Angel.
I know what he sees when he looks at me. He knows I’ve been crying. I’m guessing he doesn’t say anything about it because I’m here with my dad. Anyone else, he’d punch first and ask questions later.
Angel then turns his attention to Dad, and while I can’t read either of their expressions, they seem to be having one of their wordless conversations where they talk with only their eyes.
“Okay, that’s still annoying and creepy when you two do that. More annoying than when you and mom do it before you two hop and leave to…” I visibly shudder instead of continuing.
“Well, safe to say they haven’t been doing much of that lately,” Angel tells me with a smirk.
“Bleh, I don’t want to think about them not doing it, or them doing it… Nothing about the deed and my parents should enter my brain.” I gag and pull away from my dad to slap my pseudo-uncle and best friend.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop for now. Why are you here? Didn’t you have work today?”
“Stanford closed the shop. Everyone’s books cleared out, so he let us take the rest of the day off. I decided to put my time to good use. Figured it was time to talk to Dad and hear him out. Put this whole thing to bed. I guess I missed him almost as much as I missed you.” I smile at Angel and rest my head on his shoulder. He places a loving kiss on the top of my head.
“So, you’re all good now?” Angel asks as he looks from Dad to me.
“Yes,” my dad answers before I can. He then turns toward me, “Can you please text your mother and tell her that? I’d really like to sleep in my own bed when I get home.” Dad says as he pushes past us. I call out, letting him know I will, as he runs out the door. Shuddering, I turn to face Angel, and he laughs at me. Jerk.
“I would text your mom and then just pretend they’re away for the rest of the night.” Angel leads me away while I pretend to gag at the thought of what my parents are doing.
I text Mom to let her know Dad is in the clear and on his way to collect his prize. Angel then leads me to his truck, not his bike.
“What? No bike? And where are we going? I drove here.” I tell him as he drags me along.
“You can’t ride bitch with me anymore, and I promised you we would get your back piece started. You won’t be in any condition to drive after.”
I scoff, “It’s a tattoo, not drugs. I’m not going to become an invalid because of it. Or do you offer this taxi service to all of your clients?”
“You’re a little shit, you know that?”
“Me? Noooo.”
“Just get in so I can take you for a drink afterward.” I give him a sideways glance as I hop into the truck. “For you, not me.”
“How about, because I don’t need alcohol and neither do you, and it thins blood, you take me to Mary’s Diner and feed me instead?”
“As long as I take you out after because it’s been a while since we hung out.”
“Two hours,” I cough into my hand.
He ignores me and continues, “You and I both know you’re gonna fall asleep on the table like a psychopath.”
* * *
My pain tolerance is high, but at times, it all hurt like a bitch. Outlining isn’t my favorite. Everyone’s preferences are different, and I’m a shading fan.
Angel tried to offer to buy me a drink again, but I stuck to my guns. Mary’s Diner is old and looks run down, but it has the best food you’ll ever eat outside of home. Mary’s great- granddaughter runs the place and continues to cook the way Mary did. I’m obsessed with it.
I eat my breakfast platter while he devours his burrito. Every once in a while, it gets a little awkward, but right now, the silence works. We’re sitting in the back of the diner, allowing him to watch everyone who comes and goes.
“What’s new since the last time I saw you?”
“Again, it was two hours ago,” I laugh.
He shrugs as he reminds me how sometimes all it takes is twenty minutes in our lives for something insane to happen.
“Fair point.” I give him a soft smile and toy with the lock on my necklace. “But in this case, nothing has changed since I saw you. I really did decide it was time to fix things with Dad. You coming and starting the process set off the chain reaction for me, ya know?” I tell him, watching as he eyes my fingers toying with the lock more. He seems locked in on my necklace, like he might know what it means.
“Did you buy that necklace?” He asks.
“Uhm, no it was gift. Why? You don’t like it? I am still getting used to it. But I love it, and I think it fits the punk-rock pixie look I have going on. Don’t you think?” I preen, trying to get him to look at my face, not the necklace.
Before he can answer, his eyes cut to the movement behind me. I know who it is. I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Max walking up behind me. I’d let him know when Angel finished my session and that we were headed to food. I wasn’t sure if he’d show up, but I hoped he would.
I haven’t said the words out loud, but I’m positive Angel knows exactly what’s going on between the two of us. So, while I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Max, I still do.
He seems hesitant but doesn’t slow his stride. His eyes drop to my hand on my necklace, and he responds by bringing his hand up to where the key rests under his shirt.
I hear his chair before I see him out of the corner of my eye. Angel marches right up to Max, and before I can react, he clocks Max across the chin. I shoot up from my chair and notice everyone is keeping their heads down, unwilling to get between the members of NOMC.
“Really, you two? I thought we were over all this crap?”
“Now we are,” Angel says, shaking out his hand and walking out of the diner.
“What the fuck, Max?” I whisper.
“He knows, Rox,” he tells me as he kisses the top of my head, “and he doesn’t like it.”
“He has no say in me being with you.”
“Not about us, baby. He knows what the necklace means, and he doesn’t like it.”
I turn toward him, anger behind my eyes, “My comment still stands. He has no fucking say.”