33. Oscar
Chapter 33
Oscar
A rcher leans in close to Lottie, murmuring something. Whatever it is, it makes her eyes soften, shine in that way they do when she’s looking at him like he’s the one thing keeping her anchored to this world.
His thumb brushes along her jaw, gentle and reverent like he can’t believe he’s finally getting to hold her like this after two years of pining, and I watch her eyes flutter shut like the words he’s whispering to her are a soothing balm.
They stay there, close, taking comfort in each other’s arms.
I should look away, but I don’t. I stay still, letting the ache settle quietly in my chest.
Not jealousy… It’s awe because she deserves this. They both do.
Lottie deserves to be loved like that, like the world starts and ends with her, and I know with both of us, she’ll never remember what it felt like before.
I let them have their moment, because it’s hers. Loving Lottie means knowing when to step back and let her be exactly who she needs to be—soft, enchanting, electric.
It’s like watching her dance. She doesn’t move to impress or to please. When she dances, she disappears into the music, losing herself in every beat and curve.
Stripping was never about taking off her clothes, not for her.
It’s about the power it gave her.
On stage, she becomes Siren. The name alone enough to pull in the crowd. One of the best at the club, men come in already entranced by her. Stories of how she moves like water, like smoke, like something ethereal.
Even though I can’t hear the music, I feel it through the floor, through her body as I watch her. The way her movements sync with the vibrations is perfect. Almost otherworldly, and every time she steps into the light, I drift closer to the stage like I don’t have a choice but to follow her Siren’s call.
She’s art. A warning. A force.
Mine.
A smile tugs at my lips because just the thought of the other night, as it all became too much, and I confessed to her that I loved her, I never dreamt of a world that she would ever love me back… not when she had Archer.
The first time I found out about the stripping, I didn’t judge her. I knew she was trying to find herself again, but I knew I had to be there to protect her, especially with Archer deployed, and The Velvet Room attracting men who don’t see women as anything other than something to break.
I found her in the alley behind the club. She had been grabbed, and it took everything in me not to lose it when I saw her tear-stained face. She was trembling, her breath coming in shallow, broken pants like she was trapped in her mind, and I wanted nothing more than to protect her from her demons.
She didn’t see me at first, just stared at the brick wall like it might eat her whole.
So I got the job as security, with the bonus of her being my main focus. And when I saw her dancing for the first time…
That’s when I knew I wasn’t just in love with her.
I was hers —in every way that counted.
And I’d burn down the whole goddamn world to make sure no one ever hurt her again.
She asked me to sit in that diner and watch her back like I do every time she strips, while she finally confronted the demons from her past.
The second I saw her sitting there, Roman, Elijah, and Crew all sitting in front of her, I couldn’t look away. They were a threat to my girl’s happiness, and I wouldn’t have hesitated to get rid of them if that’s what she needed.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying— obviously —but I could read her face and body. The tight line of her jaw, the way she clutched the coffee cup like it was her lifeline. Her eyes didn’t land on me once, too focused on the wall behind them, but I stayed, watching her back like I promised I always would.
The moment she ran out and jumped into Archer’s car, I didn’t hesitate to follow them.
I kept my distance for long enough, and I know we need to talk to see where Lottie’s head is at.
She spots me before I reach them, her head turning a little, like she’d been waiting for me all along. She pulls back from Archer, smiling at me. “Took you long enough,” she signs, then pats the spot on the sand next to her.
I lower myself close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. She reaches for me without a word, threading her fingers through mine.
I point to her, then make a fist with my free hand, thumb extended, and drag it down from my chin. “You good?”
She shakes her head, “No,” she mouths the word.
Archer blows out a breath beside her, his cheeks deflating, his arm tightening around her. I want to ask her what happened, but the feeling of her hand in mine right now is the only thing that’s stopping me from going and finding the three of them.
Lottie must read my mind because she flexes her fingers around mine. “They’re not going to stop.”
Archer’s body tenses, his jaw clenched, hard. My fingers flex around hers, wishing I could drag them all into the ocean and hold them under until they understood what drowning in your pain felt like.
“And what do you want to do?” Archer asks her, signing it too.
Lottie looks between us both, her eyes like wildfire—bright, wild, angry. Alive.
“I want revenge.” She mouths the words slowly so I can understand, her fingers tapping against my hand.
The words don’t shock me. It was inevitable, like a storm that had been building and was finally ready to break. I let go of her hand. “Are you sure?”
“I want them to feel it. All of them. Every moment I was humiliated, every night I would contemplate walking to the cliff’s edge just to finally get a breath of air because it felt like I was always suffocating under the pain of everyone else… They made me their punching bag for their entertainment. I want them to pay.” She looks between us, searching for judgment, but she won’t find any. Not from us. “I don’t want apologies from Crew. I don’t want demands from Elijah or anything from Roman because he still can’t see that what he did was wrong. I want them to know what it feels like to be brought to their knees.”
Her words have no hesitation or shame, only the bare, brutal truth. She delivers it like a weapon, sharpened by every scar they’ve left on her.
I study her face, the curve of her nose, and the slight crinkle at the side of her eyes. For a moment, all I can see is the girl I found curled in the alley. The way she shook. The way her eyes had gotten that faraway look. I remember kneeling beside her, not saying a word, and wanting nothing more than to fix it all for her.
That girl isn’t gone, I don’t think she ever will be… but she’s not who’s sitting in front of me now.
This version is a storm with a purpose.
“What’s the plan?” Archer asks.
Lottie leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, eyes fixated on the water. Her fingers tighten into fists before she relaxes them again. “We start with Crew.”
“Because he drugged you.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
She nods. “He knew. We would spend hours as kids talking about the choices our parents made. He knew it was one of my biggest fears that I’d end up just like them…” She pauses. “It was his, too. Now look at him. He drugged me for his own selfish reasons, taking yet another thing from me.”
Archer shifts closer to her, resting his head against hers. I watch them for a beat, the way they move around each other like gravity. But then Lottie turns to me, tugging my hand into her lap like she needs both of us as much as the other.
The tide pulls in closer, and the wind picks up, cold and biting. “Shall we go home? Mom will be wondering where we are.” Archer stands, holding his hand out for Lottie, and helps her to stand.
We follow her back to the trucks, and I follow them home to Archer’s home, not ready to be away from her yet.
Archer pulls up to the house first, headlights sweeping across the front porch of his parents’ place. It’s familiar and warm, even in the dark.
A safe place. It always has been.
I park just behind them and kill the engine, stepping out into the cool night. Lottie’s already climbed out of Archer’s truck, arms wrapped around herself as the breeze tugs her hair from her ponytail.
“We should probably tell them,” she signs, glancing between us. Archer looks at her, confused. “Your parents. About us.”
Archer lifts a brow. “You sure?”
She nods. “I don’t want it to be a secret, like we’re doing something wrong… and I’m tired of feeling like everything good in my life has to be hidden.”
I don’t need to say anything. She already knows where I stand.
“Mom’s probably already guessed how we feel about you,” Archer says, but there’s a twitch of nerves in his jaw.
We enter the house, following the light still on in the kitchen, and sure enough, Archer’s mom appears in the doorway.
“Hey. Everything okay?” She asks, drying her hands on a dish towel.
Lottie walks in first, barefoot and a little windswept. “We’re okay.” Her lips move as she speaks, and I have to tear my eyes away from her.
Archer steps closer to her, and I follow, slipping an arm around her waist. “Actually… we wanted to talk to you and Dad,” Archer says, signing as he does.
That gets her attention. “Is this one of those sit down and brace yourself talks?” she teases, eyes flicking between the three of us like the pieces are already clicking together.
Archer’s dad appears from the hallway, tall and quiet as ever, with that same ex-military stillness that makes him look like he can read a situation before anyone speaks.
“Let’s hear it,” he says simply, folding his arms.
Archer doesn’t flinch. “It’s about us. The three of us.”
His mom’s brows rise—then she beams. “Oh!Finally!” she exclaims, looking like she just won the lottery. “I’ve been hoping you’d all stop dancing around it.”
Lottie blinks. “You knew?”
She waves a hand at us like it’s obvious. “I’ve watched the way you all look at each other when none of you were looking. The only surprise is that it took our son this long to do something about it, and that Oscar got there first, I’m assuming, since you’ve been hiding away at his house the last few nights while our son avoided his feelings.”
Claire’s hands move wildly as she talks, and I chuckle, all tension easing from my shoulders.
Will doesn’t say anything for a long beat, then looks at me, then at Archer.
“You’ll treat her right?” he signs to me, then repeats the same question to Archer.
“Always.” I sign back, no hesitation.
“Every damn day,” Archer replies.
Will nods once, then levels a very specific kind of dad-stare at both of us. “Good. If either of you hurts her, I’ll make you disappear. Family or not,” he says and signs it, calmly—like it’s just a fact of life. And somehow that makes it scarier. I swallow a lump in my throat, forgetting how truly terrifying Will can be when he wants to be.
Archer coughs. “Got it, Dad.”
Lottie steps between us, moving into Will’s open arms, reaching up to kiss his cheek. Will holds her there for a moment before stepping back, his eyes misty. “I’m happy for you, baby girl,” his lips move, a smile tugging at the edges. “You deserve all the happiness.”
Claire wraps Lottie in a hug, stealing her from her husband, and reaches for me too, pulling me in like she always does. She holds on for a long beat, then lets us go, wiping away a tear from her cheek. “Does this mean you’ll both call me mom now?”