Rox (Nameless Order: Heart Chapter #1)

20. Roxie

Twenty

Roxie

I didn’t like the idea when Duncan suggested it. I felt as if I was being forced into something. When I asked Angel about it over lunch and why he was so adamant about not doing it, you know, poking the already murderous bear, he mentioned them still trying to find whoever was after me. It all clicked into place. If we do this, I can help bring whoever this person is forward. If there is someone who truly wants to harm me, why not try when I’m so willing to be in public? Right?

I know this is going to be yet another thing my dad isn’t going to like, and we will fight about it. Angel’s face made it clear how he felt about the whole event and the chaos around it, but I can’t sit back and do nothing. I grew up with these men. I know they wouldn’t allow something to happen to me, but it’s because of them that I’m as strong as I am. They’re the reason I fight. I stand up for myself because they helped me see my strength. I can’t sit back and do nothing. Who I am and how I was raised won’t allow me to.

So yeah, while I was mad at Duncan and tried to come up with all the reasons why we shouldn’t, I’m big enough to admit I was wrong, and it’s a great idea. I just won’t ever tell Duncan that to his face.

I’ve learned a lot growing up in this club, and one of the lessons learned was never allowing anyone to walk all over me—the club included. Much to my father’s regret for bringing me into this life and teaching me how to be the best and most bull-headed version of myself, I’m not going to continue to sit on the sidelines as they do all the work to resolve my issues.

I can handle so much more than anyone realizes. The person who is after me knows nothing about me. They don’t know what I’ve overcome and who I’ve become. My life sculpted me into a badass bitch, and I’m ready to fight for myself.

My thoughts are cut off when I hear the roar of an engine outside of Max’s house. I smile as I make my way to the front door, ready to greet him. I know this will be a battle, but I’m sure he will be on my side in this, and he’ll see how this plan is perfect. He told me he knows I can take care of myself. This will prove it to all of them.

“Hey, ba—what’s wrong?”

He slams the door and turns toward the couch. He grips the back of it before he starts to rock back and forth. It’s clear he’s pissed about something, possibly even hurting, but I have no clue about what.

Unless.

“Angel told you about the demo, didn’t he?”

Max scoffs as he stands up and faces me. “Were you even going to tell me?”

“It’s actually why I’m right here waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you about it. It’s a good plan.” I try to smile at him but want to reach out and touch him. Connect with him physically before he can get even more riled up. The look on his face tells me to keep my hands to myself.

“It’s fucking awful plan! You want to have people coming and going and open yourself up to danger!” Max explodes at me. He starts pacing the floor, running his fingers through his hair. I know he is trying to calm himself a bit more, but it’s not working.

“I would do this even if no one were following me, Max. I’m a tattoo artist. This is my job. As a struggling artist, it’s how I prove myself and build a client base. I must put myself out there more than walk-ins settling for my work.”

“Angel doesn’t.” He holds his head high like the statement should end the conversation. Yeah, right.

“Angel doesn’t need to. He books up for the whole year in one day. He opens his books for one day a year, and it’s filled out within two hours. He doesn’t have to go to demos or work harder to make a name for himself. I do. He paid his dues in his way and worked hard years ago, so he doesn’t have to anymore. And besides, this is something that will help bring this person out. I can’t sit here—” When I think I am about to make him see reason and be on my side, he cuts me off.

“—Stop. Please. Just stop. I’m pissed as hell about this plan, but your father already fucking agreed to it.”

“He did?” I ask, genuinely shocked. I really did think this was something I was going to have to push for. What the hell? Who changed his mind? I know it wasn’t Angel, and based on Max’s reaction, it wasn’t him either.

“Yeah. Omen opened his fucking mouth, and now I have to worry about you during this. I just fucking…” he takes a deep breath. “It’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, Rox.”

“Okay,” I say as I step toward him, “what did you want to talk about?”

“As I was sitting there in church, listening to this plan, watching the reactions of the men I call my brothers, I realized something. I don’t know shit about you.”

I rear back, shocked he’d say something like this. We’ve spent hours talking as we lay in bed at night. Learning everything we can about each other. He knows me better than anyone does.

“Wh—what do you mean, Max? You know everything about me.”

“I know you, now. I don’t know anything about you then.”

My eyes bulge out of my head. My past never came up. It’s not something I like to talk about. I know it’s a large part of my make-up. It’s why I am the way I am, but it’s so fucking dark. It’s something that hurts too much when I have to remember. Why does he want to know? Why now?

“Why?” I ask, my voice quiet and timid compared to how this conversation started.

“Why what?” The incredulous tone in Max’s voice is a slap in the face. He sounds almost cruel.

“Why do you want to know?”

He scoffs as he throws his head to the right and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Rox. Maybe because it’s a part of you? Maybe because I laid myself out for you. I stripped myself bare and told you everything. Things no one knows. If anyone should know my past, it should be your father, but he doesn’t know shit. You’re the only one who has seen every side of me. I gave you something I haven’t given to anyone. And I realize I can’t be mad. I didn’t ask about it before, but I am. You know everything about me. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the fucked up. I have who you are now.”

“Isn’t that what matters?” I struggle to see his logic. I haven’t been anything but one hundred percent myself.

“Not when it makes me think the worst about the men you have in your life.” There’s a hint of disgust in his voice.

The tears I feel coming explode as I realize what he’s saying. Anger courses through my veins. “Don’t you dare accuse any of them of being the reason for my pain!”

“All I know is that your life was hard and that they raised you. What the hell could have been so hard? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Max, did it ever occur to you that I don’t talk about it because it hurts?”

“So does my pain, yet I shared it anyway.”

He did. He told me everything. Yes, he left afterward, but he opened up about emotions he stopped feeling years ago and didn’t know how to process them. Walking away allows him to figure himself out without causing unnecessary hurt. “ You can never take back words you said in anger.” It’s what he told me before.

While I was upset, he let me know he was okay every day, and I was okay with that. I felt special when he told me the truth. When he allowed me to see the real him, I knew then that I meant something to him. I meant more to him than anyone else in his life. He’s only asking for the same feeling in return.

I take a breath and motion to the couch. Sitting down, I pull my knees up to my chest. He sits down at the other end, and while I’m sad because he’s so far away from me, I internally thank him because I don’t think I can tell this story while he holds me. Not yet.

“My mother dated a man before my dad came along. He did and said all the right things. And when you’re a teen mom, it’s easy to be blinded by the glitz and glamour put in front of you.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I remember my mother’s look when she told me how easily she fell for it all.

“He talked Mom into moving in with him before I was born. She made sure he wasn’t on any of the paperwork, though. She’d told me that while he came in and helped, he didn’t help make me and didn’t deserve to be listed on my birth certificate. It’s one of those things that helped out later in life,” I smile weakly at the small victory.

“I grew up around him, but he was never my dad and never treated me like his kid. For the most part, he was nice to me. He’d make nice all the time and always took pictures. He’d take pictures of Mom and I, or just me. He claimed I grew too fast, and we had to document everything. Some shit about being able to look back one day,” I wave my hand dismissively. “He’d always make sure I was smiling. He’d tell me to be silly or have me dance around even if I didn’t want to.

I didn’t see it then, not really. I didn’t see anything wrong, but I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Anyway, I grew up in his house. He worked hard so my mother could stay home with me. He didn’t want to cover the cost of me going to school, so my mom had to teach me.

She tells me that she did the best she could, but considering I always tested higher than my age bracket, I think she did a damn good job.

I didn’t know that my lifestyle was unusual. When we went to the park, there were kids my age there with their parents. Nothing seemed out of place. That all changed soon, though.

The older I got, the more I noticed he would make a point to touch me on my shoulder or back. He’d play with my hair when we watched TV as a group. Mom was there, and she never said anything about it. She didn’t let me believe there was any danger being with him because she didn’t think there was. He would check on me every night and ensure I was tucked in even after Mom went to bed. I didn’t know it was bad until the night we left.”

“How old were you,” Max asks through clenched teeth.

“I was nine the night my mother learned what was happening.”

Max shoots up from the couch and starts pacing. He’s already assuming what happened to me. The worst images go through his mind, and I get it. I would, too.

“He never succeeded in raping me, if that’s what you’re thinking. The night my mom found out, that was the first time he tried to force himself on me. I was a smart kid, but there are still things a child doesn’t know, and what he was doing, I didn’t know.” I drop my knees and start playing with my fingertips, the nervous energy eating me up as I talk about the part of me I wanted to block out. Along with the guilt on Mom’s face the night we left and for weeks later. With every nightmare I had, I cried and clung to her, scared he was going to come back for me.

“Of course you didn’t. Why would you? You were around someone who was trusted. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know I didn’t. I don’t blame myself. It was all him.” I believe in myself now. Back then, it was more complicated. It took time, but my mom, dad, and Angel got me through everything. “Anyway, long story short, mom got me out. We met my dad shortly after, and he helped us. Then we moved here, and the end.” I rush the words out and look at him for the first time since starting this tale.

He stops pacing and turns to me, his face red, “The end? What the hell do you mean by the end? There’s no way that’s it. You’re hiding something. Just like your father, Angel, and Omen are hiding something.”

“Why do you say that?” I try to hide the waver in my voice when confronted with his very accurate accusation.

“Tell me why I’m not included in their discussion when we’re talking about you and how to keep you safe. You’re mine. You’re my whole fucking heart, and they all know I’ll do everything to keep you safe, yet, they were sitting there having a whole conversation with their eyes. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Why is no one letting me in on what the hell happened before? Because whatever it is, it’s got them worried now.” His voice is calm, and he isn’t yelling, but to me, that’s scarier than if he were still screaming.

“What?” I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. “That doesn’t make sense. That has nothing to do with anything. Why would they? What did they? Fuck.”

“What did they say? I wouldn’t fucking know, Rox.”

“Look, I can’t tell you.” The guilt’s killing me because he’s right. I’m his just as much as he’s mine. There shouldn’t be secrets in our relationship. We should be talking about all the problems of our pasts that shaped us.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He tosses his hands in the air like he is finally done with me. He turns again, and I think he is going to walk away, and I panic.

“Max,” I grab his hand, and he stops moving. I place my other hand on his face and cradle his cheek. “I can’t tell you because it’s not my story to tell. I’m only a small part of it. If I tell you everything, I tell you someone else’s secrets, and I can’t do that to her. As y’all so lovingly say, it’s club business.” I give him a small, playful smile, trying to take the edge off the fact I can’t tell him more rather than won’t tell him more.

“I’m in this club, Rox.” His voice is small, and the feeling of defeat radiates off him.

“Max,” I sigh. I know what I’m about to say is going to piss him off even more, but I can’t reveal what happened to Manda or the others. There’s so much history inside the Nameless Order. My mother and I are only a tiny piece of the puzzle. “If they wanted you to know, they would have told you.” The hurt in his eyes matches his voice from earlier.

Before I can say anything more, he places his hand over the one I have on his face. He presses his face into my palm, holding it there. I want to bring him closer to kiss away the hurt and the sting of this possible betrayal. I open my mouth to say more when he lightly pushes me back, breaking the connection we’ve created.

My heart cracks more, and my resolve is shaken—begging me to tell him more when he finally speaks again.