ROMAN #2
Harding’s jaw tightens, his hands curl into fists at his sides before he turns sharply on his heel.
The door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the glass, and the echo of it lingers as Bates and Simmons rise more quietly and follow him out without another word.
I pull back from Fae as I watch them go.
The fight isn’t over, not even close, but this part of it is done.
Around the table, the remaining men start to move.
Chairs scrape, jackets are adjusted, and one by one they step forward.
Parson is first, offering his hand across the desk.
“Well played,” he says simply.
I take it, gripping firmly, “thank you.”
Snider follows, giving a short nod, “don’t waste it.”
“I won’t.”
Buckley claps Riggs on the shoulder before turning to me, “you’ve got your work cut out for you, son.”
“I know.”
Strickland doesn’t move straight away. He lingers as the others drift past, his gaze is thoughtful as it settles on me.
I ease Fae back onto her feet and stand, straightening slightly as he finally steps forward.
Neither of us speak straight away, but he reaches out, gripping my shoulder firmly and leaning into my ear.
“Make this a better place,” he says quietly.
“I will,” I answer, and for the first time, it feels like something I might actually be able to do.
He nods once, satisfied with the answer, before stepping back.
His gaze shifts to his son, who pointedly looks anywhere but at him, and his expression tightens before he exhales and turns for the door.
The click as it shuts leaves the room hanging in silence.
I glance around at the misfit group in front of me, until my eyes land on my mum.
The woman in the red dress is gone, and in her place is the version of her I know best, softer around the edges with nerves finally creeping through now that the room has emptied and the performance is over.
I exhale and close the distance between us, pulling her into me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I murmur.
“Because your reaction needed to be believable,” she sighs, leaning back to look at me properly. “Although I will admit, I’m slightly frustrated by just how convincing you were.”
Before I can respond, Victor steps in, folding his arms as he looks between us.
“Can you blame us, Mrs L?” he says, one brow raised. “Our parents aren’t exactly known for being shining examples.”
Her expression softens, “no,” she admits gently. “I suppose they’re not.”
“Well,” Riggs cuts in, dragging a hand through his hair, “that was a solid performance. You nearly had me questioning my entire childhood there, Mumzy.”
“Nearly?” she shoots back as a smile pulls at her lips.
Felix moves in, pulling her into a hug that lingers. He murmurs something low into her ear that I don’t quite catch, and she nods against him before pulling back and moving her hand up to cup his cheek.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
Her attention shifts, moving past us to where Robyn stands with Hazel. Hazel is watching her with the saddest expression I’ve seen. I’ll never fully understand what they went through, but I can see it, clear as anything, in the way Hazel carries Robyn’s pain like it’s her own.
“Are you girls alright?” Mum asks in a soft voice as she steps closer. Hazel nods quickly, brushing at her face before forcing a smile.
“That was a bad bitch move, Mrs Longstaff. I’m going to be just like you when I grow up.”
Mum’s warm laugh spills out. It is so different to the woman who just tore that room apart. She reaches out, cupping Hazel’s cheek gently.
“You’re already a bad bitch,” she murmurs.
Then she turns to Robyn. Robyn steps straight into her open arms. Mum folds around Robyn as her taller frame steadies her and Robyn presses close, barely reaching her shoulder.
Robyn sinks into the hold as her breathing turns uneven and her hands tremble slightly where they clutch at Mum’s dress.
Mum doesn’t rush her. One hand rests firmly at her back, whilst the other smooths her hair as she lets her settle.
Outside of Felix and Fae, Mum is the only one she can handle like this. Anyone else gets too close and she shuts down or panics, and we have to clear the room before it spirals.
I still remember the way Riggs looked when it first happened.
He was alone with her in the kitchen, and the second she saw him, she broke down; a full panic attack hit her out of nowhere.
He tried to help and rushed straight to her, but it only made it worse.
By the time he stormed into my room his face had completely drained of colour and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t see in front of him.
It was lucky for him really, because it meant he didn’t clock my Tinkerbell naked on top of me before he started stumbling over his words.
Fae didn’t hesitate. She pulled herself off me and ran straight downstairs to her, leaving me to deal with him.
I had to physically restrain Riggs just to get him to calm down and to get it through his head that it wasn’t his fault.
After that, we sat down as a group and made it clear. No one was to be alone with her unless they were one of her safe people.
“I can’t believe you’re now a founder,” Riggs says, screwing his nose up as he looks at me.
“Not yet,” I reply as I glance back toward the table we just left. “There’s still one thing left to do.”
Life is about to change again, and I can feel the pressure of it building, like a clock ticking somewhere deep in my head that I can’t shut off.
Fae is twelve weeks pregnant tomorrow. That gives me twenty-eight weeks.
Twenty-eight weeks to fix this, to lock it down, to make sure there is nothing left that can reach her or my child.
“We’re here for you,” he says before pulling me into a hug.
I grunt, shoving him off instantly. The contact crawls under my skin and I growl low in my throat as he barks out a laugh. I grab Fae and pull her into me quickly just to wipe the feel of him away.
“God, it’s good to piss you off,” he says with a satisfied sigh, and I swear I regret ever helping him with Robyn.
“Fae,” my mum calls, softly smiling at us the way she always does when she catches me holding her. “Can I have a word with you, sweetheart?”
My brow furrows as I glance at Fae. She looks at me, then back at her, before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.
“I’ll be two seconds,” she murmurs.
I breathe in deeply and swallow the uneasy feeling that starts to rise in me again as we make our way outside.
I can handle feeling possessive when the guys crowd around Fae, but my own mum?
That’s a line even I don’t get to cross.
Fae deserves someone like her, a woman who understands things I never will.
Every time she comes back, Fae is glowing and talking about some lesson Mum’s passed on.
I watch them disappear ahead of us, her hand brushing against Fae’s arm as she leans in to say something I can’t hear.
My hands slide into my pockets and I tilt my head back, staring up at the blue sky above the car park.
Somehow, I thought things would feel different after today, but they don’t.
Cars still pass. Doors still slam. Voices still talk over each other. It’s strange, if you think about it.
I’ve just been given permission to kill my own father, and the world just carries on.