Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Romeo
The afternoon sun beat down on the clubhouse parking lot, flashing off chrome and turning the asphalt hot enough that I could feel it through my boots.
Most of the brothers had drifted outside, standing in loose groups near the bikes while Amber made her way through everyone she’d come to know during her time in Diamond Creek.
Nobody seemed in much of a hurry.
Goodbyes were easier when you pretended they weren’t waiting at the end of every conversation.
Amber hugged the women first, stopping longer with some than others, sharing words I couldn’t hear before moving on. She did the same with the brothers, and for once nobody ruined a serious moment by turning it into some bullshit joke.
Even Jack managed to behave himself.
I stood near the edge of the group and watched.
Amber had become a friend somewhere along the way.
A real one. She’d never been impressed by the Romeo bullshit, which probably had something to do with it.
She called me out when I deserved it, laughed when I deserved that too, and never seemed particularly concerned with pretending either one of us was better than we were.
Now she was leaving with Massacre.
Good for her.
Still sucked for me.
When the last brother stepped away, Amber turned and found me.
I walked toward her.
A low growl came from somewhere behind her. I didn’t bother looking at the asshole. I raised one hand, gave him the finger over Amber’s shoulder, then pulled her into my arms.
She laughed against my chest.
“Gonna miss you, babe,” I said, tightening my arms around her for a second before letting her pull back.
“No, you won’t.” She sniffed and wiped beneath one eye. “You have someone who needs you more now.”
Fiona came to mind immediately.
The wording bothered me, though.
Fiona didn’t need me to save her. She’d survived before I knew she existed and built a life surrounded by people who loved her. If anything, the last few months had taught me how little she needed another man deciding what was best for her.
But she’d started making room for me.
That was something else entirely.
“She’s too young,” I said.
Amber gave me the same look she used whenever she thought I was full of shit. “She’s an adult.”
“Barely.”
“She’s an adult,” she repeated. “And you know it.”
I did.
Fiona’s age mattered because I needed to be careful with the difference between where we were in our lives. It mattered because she deserved the chance to figure out what she wanted without a man who was too fucking old for her deciding his certainty should become hers.
But I’d started using it for something else too.
An excuse to keep holding part of myself back even when she stepped closer.
“What if she’s not ready?” I asked.
Amber’s expression softened. “We never are.”
I almost laughed at how useless that was.
Apparently, she saw it.
“I’m serious, Rome. Stop trying to figure out the exact moment she’ll magically become ready for whatever this is between you. Just pay attention to her. She’ll tell you.”
That sounded suspiciously simple.
Fiona was getting better at telling me.
The problem was whether I was listening when the answer wasn’t the one I expected.
“Be patient with her,” Amber continued, resting her hand on my arm. “She’s not had the best life, and she’s had to grow up faster than any child should.”
That much I knew.
Not all of it. Fiona still kept parts of her past tucked away where I couldn’t reach them, and I’d knew that trying to pry those doors open would only make her guard them harder.
Sometimes something slipped through. A stray comment about her life before Granny. A memory she moved past too quickly. Little pieces of her past that made it clear there was a hell of a lot of it she hadn’t told me.
Then she’d move on, and I let her.
When she wanted me to know the rest, she’d tell me.
“Her brothers are going to kill me,” I muttered.
Amber laughed. “Probably, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re leaving.”
“Exactly. Excellent timing.”
She rose onto her toes and kissed my cheek. Massacre growled again. This time I looked directly at him and smiled. The expression he gave me promised a painful death.
Amber shook her head. “Both of you are ridiculous.”
“He started it,” Massacre grumbled.
“Of course he did.” She turned back to me, and the teasing disappeared from her face. “She’s lucky to have you, Rome. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”
I glanced toward the ground.
“I’m the lucky one.” That was the truth.
Fiona could’ve decided the age gap was too much.
She could’ve listened to Georgie or taken one look at my reputation and decided she wanted no part of it.
Instead, she kept answering my texts. She trusted me with pieces of herself.
At prom, she’d slipped her hand through my arm and chosen to leave Granny’s house with me, despite the fact that her brother looked ready to bury my body in the mountains.
None of those choices belonged to the La Croix curse.
They belonged to Fiona.
Amber squeezed my arm. “Then don’t screw it up.”
I smiled. “There’s the heartfelt goodbye I was waiting for.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stepped away and returned to Massacre. The bastard immediately wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his side as if there were some chance I might steal her on the way to the bike.
I flipped him off one more time.
He grinned.
That was probably as close as Massacre and I were ever going to get to a touching farewell.
They rode toward the gate, Amber lifting one hand before they disappeared onto the road.
For a few seconds, nobody said much.
Then somebody behind me asked where the beer was. Jack told him he was standing ten feet from the clubhouse and could find it his damn self, and the world started moving again.
I looked once more toward the empty gate.
Amber hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.
Maybe I’d simply needed someone to say it differently.
Being careful with Fiona didn’t mean pretending I didn’t know what I wanted.
It meant making damn sure she had room to decide whether she wanted it too.
The Rosewood High gymnasium smelled like hairspray, flowers, and enough cheap cologne to violate several health codes.
Families crowded onto the bleachers while graduating seniors filed into rows of folding chairs in blue and gold gowns, and I stayed near the back wall where I could see without becoming part of the show.
I hadn’t told Fiona I was coming.
For once, the surprise had nothing to do with making some grand gesture. Graduation belonged to her. Granny, Georgie, Frank, and the rest of her family had earned the right to crowd around her today without me turning up and becoming the center of attention.
I only wanted to see her walk across that stage.
That was what I’d told myself during the long ride to Virginia.
The graduates settled into their seats, and I searched the rows until I found light brown hair beneath a slightly crooked cap.
There she was.
Third row from the front.
Fiona sat between two girls I didn’t recognize, twisting the tassel around one finger while the principal welcomed everyone. She looked nervous enough that one foot kept moving beneath her chair, but every so often one of the girls beside her whispered something and Fiona smiled.
The sight of it made every mile worth it.
The speeches went on forever. Something about futures. Potential. Taking risks. Probably excellent advice if you were eighteen and eager to hear it.
I barely listened.
Every so often, Fiona’s gaze traveled over the crowd.
Maybe she was looking for Granny.
Maybe Georgie.
Maybe nobody in particular.
The third time she did it, I caught myself straightening away from the wall as if that would somehow help her find me.
Easy, asshole. She doesn’t know you’re here.
When the principal finally began reading names, I moved where I had a clearer view of the stage.
“Fiona Mitchell-Steiner.”
My attention narrowed until the rest of the gym seemed to fall away.
She rose and walked toward the stairs, smoothing the front of her gown before climbing onto the stage. The principal handed her the diploma, shook her hand, and said something that made her smile.
I knew what today meant to Fiona.
School had been more than a plan since the first time she told me about becoming a social worker. She wanted to take every ugly thing that happened to her and make sure some other kid had someone standing beside them when it happened.
And now she was one step closer.
She turned toward the audience.
Her eyes moved briefly over the crowd before she headed down the opposite stairs and returned to her seat.
The smile spread across my face.
Damn, I was proud of her.
The thought came so naturally I didn’t bother questioning whether I had any right to feel it.
By the time the last name was called, everyone around me had started shifting with impatience. Cameras came out. Parents moved toward the aisles despite repeated requests to stay seated.
Then the principal announced the graduating class.
Caps flew.
The gym erupted.
Within seconds, the neat rows disappeared beneath families rushing forward to find their graduates. I stayed against the wall and watched the chaos.
I could have left.
That had more or less been the plan. See Fiona graduate. Let her have the day with her family. Text her later and tell her how proud I was.
It was a good plan.
Then I saw her.
She stood near the edge of the crowd with her cap gone and her gown hanging slightly crooked from one shoulder, rising onto her toes as she searched over the people around her.
I watched her turn.
Her eyes found mine.
She froze.
For a heartbeat, I wondered whether I’d made a mistake coming without telling her.
Then her face changed.
The smile hit first.
And she ran.
Not walked.
Ran.
She slipped between families and graduates, barely slowing when someone stepped into her path. I pushed away from the wall just before she reached me.
Fiona hit my chest with enough force to knock me back half a step, her arms wrapping around my neck.
I caught her around the waist automatically.
“You came,” she whispered against me. The emotion in her voice did something uncomfortable to the middle of my chest.
“Of course I came.”
Her arms tightened. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Wanted to surprise you.”
She pulled back enough to look at me, her eyes bright. “You’re really here.”
I laughed softly. “I’m really here, Cher.”
Her smile widened. I’d spent months telling myself she was mine.
The La Croix curse. Fate. Instinct. Whatever name I wanted to give the certainty that had hit me the first night I saw her.
None of it felt half as powerful as Fiona spotting me in a crowded gymnasium and running straight into my arms.
That was her choice.
I hadn’t arranged it.
Hadn’t coaxed it out of her with a carefully worded text or shown up at Granny’s house with a plan.
She’d simply seen me and come.
Over her shoulder, I caught sight of Georgie near the bleachers. He looked delighted. If delighted meant imagining approximately fourteen different ways to murder me.
I smiled at him and his eyes narrowed. Fiona followed my gaze and laughed when she saw her brother.
“Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m standing here minding my own business.”
“You’re smiling at him.”
I looked down at her, my grin spreading wider. “I smile at everybody.”
“Not like that.”
She knew me entirely too well already. I set her fully back on her feet but kept one arm around her waist while people moved around us.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here before your brother decides glaring isn’t enough.”
“He’s already making a scene just by standing there.” She laughed.
“Then let’s give him something to really glare about.”
She shook her head. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
The words came out before I thought about them. Fiona laughed, but she didn’t correct me.
And of course I fucking noticed.
But I left it there.
We started through the crowd, stopping every few feet while another teacher, classmate, or family friend congratulated her. I stayed beside her, my hand resting lightly at the small of her back whenever the crowd pressed too close.
Months ago, I would’ve looked at Fiona running toward me and treated it like proof of something I’d already decided.
Today, it felt different.
Better.
I knew what I wanted from the moment I met her. But Fiona was still choosing. And every time she chose to move one step closer, I understood a little more why that mattered.
As we reached the gym doors, she looked up at me with the same smile she’d worn when she first spotted me across the room.
I didn’t need the curse to tell me what that meant.
For once, I was perfectly happy letting Fiona show me.