Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
F ox
The sun dips low over Devil’s Peak as I park my truck outside Jerry’s place. The man’s been my boss for years, one of the few people I respect enough not to tell to screw off when he’s being a hard-ass. But this isn’t about work today. This is about Amelia.
Walking up the porch steps, I pause for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. I’ve faced down engines on the verge of exploding and survived firefights overseas, but the idea of having this conversation has my stomach in knots. I’ve made up my mind, though, and there’s no turning back.
Jerry opens the door before I even knock, his steely gaze locking on me. He’s got that same look Amelia gets when she’s about to start trouble—a mix of curiosity and defiance.
“Fox,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. “Didn’t think I’d see you today. Everything okay at the garage?”
I step inside, shrugging off my jacket. “Garage is fine. This isn’t about work.”
Jerry raises an eyebrow, motioning toward the couch. “All right, then. What’s on your mind?”
I sit, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My hands clasp together, the rough calluses scraping against each other. “It’s about Amelia.”
His expression shifts slightly, his mouth tightening. “What about her?”
“She’s staying with me,” I start, my voice steady. “It wasn’t planned. She showed up with nothing but the clothes on her back and one hell of a story. But... it’s more than that now.”
Jerry crosses his arms, his stance rigid. “More than that how?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “I’m in love with her.”
The words land between us like a wrench dropped on concrete, heavy and final. Jerry’s eyes narrow, his jaw working as he processes what I’ve just said.
“Fox,” he says slowly, “you’re twice her age.”
“Not twice,” I shoot back, my tone sharper than I intend. “And that doesn’t matter. She’s a grown woman, capable of making her own choices.”
He glares at me, his silence more intimidating than any shouting could be. But I don’t back down. This is too important.
“She came back here for a reason,” I continue. “She came back because she needed to figure out what this place means to her. What you mean to her. And what we have—it’s real. I’m not letting her go.”
Jerry’s arms drop to his sides, and for a moment, he looks older, wearier. “You’re serious about her.”
“Dead serious.” My voice is firm, unwavering. “I plan on keeping her in my life and taking care of her. Forever.”
Jerry exhales heavily, sinking into the chair across from me. “She’s always been stubborn, you know. Takes after her mother in that way.”
I smirk, leaning back. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
For the first time, Jerry’s lips twitch in what might almost be a smile. “If you hurt her?—”
“I won’t.” The words come out hard, edged with conviction. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.”
When I leave Jerry’s house, the tension in my chest eases. The conversation wasn’t easy, but it needed to happen. Now it’s up to Amelia to decide if she’s ready to mend things with him. And I’ll be there for her every step of the way.
The door to The Devil’s Brew creaks open as I step inside, my boots heavy against the scuffed wooden floor. It’s just after midnight and the low hum of voices mingles with the faint clink of glasses, but my focus is razor-sharp, my gaze locking onto the woman sitting in the corner booth. Amelia. She’s still wearing my flannel and something possessive inside of me flares.
I’ve been looking for her for hours–ever since I left Jerry’s and discovered she’d packed up her pussy and left my loft while I was gone. She’s got her laptop open, fingers flying over the keyboard, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. One of my flannels hangs loose on her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair’s pulled into a messy knot, a few stray strands framing her face. Damn, she looks like she belongs here—like she belongs with me.
But the stubborn set of her jaw and the stack of neatly folded papers at the edge of the table say otherwise. She’s already planning her escape. My gut tightens at the sight.
I move toward her, weaving between tables, my stride purposeful. She doesn’t notice me at first, too engrossed in her work. It isn’t until I slide into the booth across from her that she looks up, startled.
Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” I say simply, leaning back against the worn booth. “We need to talk.”
She closes her laptop with a soft click, folding her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing to talk about, Fox. I’ve already ordered a taxi for the morning. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
The casual way she says it pisses me off. Like she’s just some temporary inconvenience, like she hasn’t turned my entire world upside down in the best possible way.
“You think leaving is going to fix this?” I growl, my voice low and sharp. “Running away doesn’t solve a damn thing, Amelia.”
Her eyes flash with defiance, but there’s a flicker of something else there, too—something softer, more vulnerable. “I’m not running,” she snaps. “I’m giving you what you wanted. I heard you, Fox. I’m a complication you didn’t sign up for.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You didn’t hear the whole conversation. The situation with your dad being my boss was an unexpected complication, but not a bad one. Just something I needed to handle. You’re worth it. I just had to figure out how to navigate it. That’s why I called Cal—and he told me nothin’ in life worth havin’ comes easy, so I left to talk to your dad and let him know where I stand with you. I’m a man of my word, Amelia, and that goes for you and him. I couldn’t spend another moment with you without clearing the air between him and I first—just didn’t feel right.”
“Oh—” before she can fully respond, a voice cuts through the tension, loud and obnoxious.
“Hey, isn’t that the mail-order bride?”
My head snaps toward the bar, where Rick Simmons, the town drunk and all-around jackass, is grinning like he’s just won the lottery. A few heads turn, curious but cautious—everyone knows Rick doesn’t have a filter, and most of the time, it gets him into trouble.
“Didn’t realize you’d take in a charity case, Fox,” he sneers, his words slurring slightly. “What’d they throw in with the deal? A free pie?”
The blood in my veins turns to fire.
Amelia stiffens across from me, her cheeks flushing with humiliation. She starts to rise, her head ducking, but I’m already out of the booth.
I’m on him in three long strides, my fist connecting with his face before he can finish his next vile sentence. The satisfying crunch of bone echoes in the bar, and Rick stumbles backward, blood spurting from his nose.
“Say another word about her,” I snarl, grabbing him by the collar, “and I’ll break your goddamn jaw.”
Rick mumbles something incoherent, his hands raised in surrender. I shove him toward the door, his feet tripping over themselves as he scrambles to get away.
The bar is silent, all eyes on me. I don’t care. My focus is solely on Amelia, who’s standing now, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
I cross back to her, my breathing heavy, the adrenaline still coursing through me. Without a word, I pull her against me, my arm wrapping around her waist. She’s stiff for a moment, but then she relaxes, her hands resting on my chest.
“She’s my wife,” I announce to the room, my voice firm, unwavering. “And she’s perfect.”
Amelia gasps softly, her eyes searching mine. For a second, the world narrows to just the two of us. The bar, the gawking patrons, even Rick’s pathetic groans fade away.
“Fox…” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over her soft skin. “Don’t you dare think for a second that you’re anything less than amazing,” I murmur, my voice low but fierce. “You’re not a complication, Amelia. You’re my everything.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. “You really mean that?”
“Hell yes, I mean it.” I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”
Her laughter is soft, shaky. “You have a funny way of showing it, punching drunks and all.”
“Yeah, well,” I smirk, brushing a kiss to her temple. “He deserved it.”
The bar erupts into a low murmur as the tension breaks, people returning to their drinks and conversations. I take Amelia’s hand, leading her up the stairs. “Come on, let’s get your pussy and go home.”
A few minutes later, we’re crossing the bar, Amelia’s carry-on and her meowing cat over my shoulder.
“We’re leaving,” I announce to the room, daring anyone to say otherwise.
The cool night air greets us as we step outside. Amelia pulls her hand from mine, wrapping her arms around herself as we walk toward my truck.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly, glancing up at me.
I stop, turning to face her. “Yes, I did. Nobody talks about you like that, Amelia. Nobody.”
She looks away, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “You can’t just go around punching people, Fox.”
“Sure I can,” I reply, my tone light but my eyes serious. “If it means protecting you, I’ll do whatever it takes. No one fucks with my girl.”
She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stuck with me,” I counter, stepping closer. “So you’d better get used to it.”
Her laughter is soft, genuine, and it makes something in my chest loosen.
“Come on,” I say, opening the truck door for her. “Let’s go home.”
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she climbs in, her movements graceful and sure.
Home. It’s a word that’s starting to feel right—because with Amelia, that’s exactly what it is.