Chapter Twenty-Three
Josie
By seven-fifteen, I was counting down the minutes until I could lock the door.
Not because the day had been bad.
It hadn’t.
People still came in. Kids still pressed their faces against the glass.
Parents still apologized for sticky fingers and then ordered extra sprinkles anyway.
Scoop & Swirl was doing okay, even with the ugliness someone kept spraying across my windows like they had nothing better to do with their life.
But I was tired.
Tired in my bones.
Tired in my head.
Tired of smiling like everything was fine when part of me kept waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
I stood behind the counter with a bucket of warm water, washing scoops and lining them up on a clean towel. The shop was quiet except for the hum of the freezer and the faint sound of music playing from the little speaker tucked beneath the register.
One hour.
That was it.
One hour and I could close, lock the door, and let Rome take me home.
Or to his house.
Or across the street.
Honestly, at this point, anywhere Rome was sounded better than being alone.
The bell above the door dinged. I grabbed a towel and turned with my customer smile already in place.
Then I froze.
Brandi walked in like the floor beneath her boots offended her.
She had the same confidence she’d worn at the clubhouse, the kind that came with knowing men looked and not caring who saw.
Her cut-off shorts barely covered anything, and her black tank top clung to her like it had been painted on.
Her hair was curled, her makeup was heavy, and her smile was sharp enough to cut.
She wasn’t alone.
Another woman followed her in, all long dark hair, tight jeans, and a leather vest with no shirt underneath. She looked around Scoop & Swirl and wrinkled her nose like she’d accidentally wandered into a preschool.
Great. Exactly what I needed.
I set the towel down and forced myself to breathe. “Welcome to Scoop & Swirl,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “What can I get for you?”
Brandi looked slowly around the shop.
The tables.
The mural.
The display case.
Then me.
Her eyes dragged over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “So this is the place,” she said.
I smiled tightly. “This is my place.”
Her friend leaned against one of the tables and ran a finger along the edge. “Cute.”
The way she said it made it sound like an insult.
I ignored it.
Professional. That was the word of the night.
Professional.
Brandi moved closer to the display case and bent slightly, scanning the flavors. She didn’t look impressed by any of them, which was fine. I didn’t need her approval to know my ice cream was good. “I just want one scoop,” she said.
“Sure. What flavor?”
She tapped a nail against the glass. “Vanilla.”
Of course.
I grabbed a cup. “One scoop of vanilla.”
“Small,” she added.
I looked up. “One small vanilla.”
She smiled. “Can’t let myself get fat like some people.”
The words landed exactly where she meant them to.
Right in the soft spot. Right in the place that had already been bruised too many times. My fingers tightened around the scoop. For half a second, I wanted to throw the whole container of vanilla at her, but instead, I smiled. Barely.
“Anything else?”
Her friend laughed softly.
Brandi’s eyes glittered. “No. That should be enough.”
I scooped the vanilla, dropped it into a small cup, and set it on the counter. My hand shook a little, and I hated that she probably noticed. “Three dollars.”
Brandi dug through her tiny purse slowly, like making me wait was part of the show. She pulled out a ten and set it on the counter with two fingers.
I rang her up and handed over her change.
She pushed a five back toward me. “Keep that.”
I stared at it. “I’m good.”
“No, really.” Her smile widened. “Use it to buy some common sense and realize Rome is just playing with you.”
Her friend laughed. A nasty little sound.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I hated that too. “Anything else?” I asked again. Because if I said anything more, I wasn’t sure I could keep my voice calm.
Brandi picked up the ice cream and looked around again. “Rome always did like charity cases.”
My stomach twisted.
Her friend covered her mouth like she was trying not to laugh.
I stared at Brandi. For a second, I saw the woman from the clubhouse. The one who touched Rome while my hand was in his. The one who looked at me and said, Her?
The one who knew exactly where to aim and didn’t care how hard she hit.
“You know,” I said carefully, “if you don’t want the ice cream, I’m not sure why you came in here.”
Brandi’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want it.” She lifted the spoon and took a tiny bite, then made a face. “It’s sweet.”
I blinked. “It’s ice cream.”
Her friend laughed again.
I was officially done with both of them.
Brandi shifted the cup to her other hand, and I saw a white smear on her palm.
Her friend grabbed her arm. “Come on, this place smells like sugar. I already feel like I gained five pounds just being here.”
Brandi laughed and turned toward the door. Before she walked out, she looked back at me. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
The bell dinged behind them, and the door shut.
And I stood there, frozen behind the counter, staring at the empty space where they’d been.
Fat.
Charity case.
Rome is just playing with you.
I grabbed the five-dollar bill from the counter and crumpled it in my fist. Then I shoved it into the trash. Hard.
“Professional,” I muttered.
I hated that Brandi could walk in for five minutes and make me feel like I was back in Bruce’s kitchen listening to him explain that he was only trying to help when he suggested we eat a salad.
We.
He always said we. Then he’d order pizza and make a joke when I grabbed a slice.
I cleaned the counter where Brandi had stood. Then I cleaned it again. Then I washed the scoop she’d used even though it hadn’t touched anything but vanilla.
At seven-forty, I started closing early tasks. I refilled the napkins, wiped tables, swept beneath the front chairs, and checked the freezer lids. Every few seconds my eyes darted toward the windows, worried Brandi was going to stroll back in.
At eight o’clock, the bell dinged again.
I jumped and then Rome walked in. Everything in me loosened and tightened at the same time.
He stopped just inside the door and his eyes moved over me once. Then again. He knew. Of course he knew. “What happened?”
I turned away and grabbed the rag from the counter. “Nothing.”
Rome didn’t move.
“Josie.”
“I’m fine.”
He walked closer.
Slow.
Controlled.
He stopped on the other side of the counter. “What happened?”
I smiled. It felt wrong on my face. “Long day.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Rome stared at me.
Not angry.
Not at me, but I could see the patience thinning.
“Baby.”
That one word almost did me in. I looked down at the rag. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
I blinked and looked up. He held my gaze. “I’ll ask one more time after you breathe.”
That should’ve annoyed me. It didn’t.
Because it wasn’t a threat. It was Rome giving me space without letting me hide in it.
I took a breath. Then another.
He waited.
The man could be a bulldozer when he wanted, but he could also stand perfectly still and make me feel like I had all the time in the world.
Finally, he asked again.
“What happened?”
I sighed and leaned against the counter. “Brandi came in.”
Rome went still. “Brandi,” he repeated.
“And her friend.”
His jaw flexed. “What’d she do?”
I shrugged. The movement felt weak. “Ordered ice cream.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Josie.”
“She was mean.”
The words sounded stupid. Childish. But there was no better way to say it.
Rome’s hands curled around the edge of the counter. I watched his knuckles whiten. “What did she say?”
“Nothing important.”
“Josie.”
I looked away.
He waited again.
Damn him.
I swallowed. “She made a comment about not wanting to get fat like some people.”
Rome’s face went blank.
That was worse than anger.
“Then she paid and gave me an extra five dollars.”
“For what?”
I laughed softly. No humor in it. “To buy some common sense and realize you didn’t want me.”
Rome’s eyes closed. Just for a second. When they opened, they were dark. “She said that?”
“Something like that.”
“Exact words.”
I sighed. “Rome-”
“Exact words, Josie.”
I hugged my arms around myself. “She said to use it to buy some common sense and realize Rome is just playing with you.”
The shop felt colder after I said it.
Rome stepped back from the counter and dragged a hand over his jaw. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
I looked down. “She seemed to think she did.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Okay.”
Rome’s head snapped toward me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Say okay like you don’t believe me.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know what to believe tonight.” That was the honest truth.
His expression softened, but the anger didn’t leave. It just got quieter. More controlled. “Brandi is in the past.”
I looked at him. “Was she?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
He didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”
The answer hurt even though I already knew it.
I looked away.
Rome came around the counter and I stepped back.
He stopped immediately. That almost hurt worse. Because he noticed. Because he cared enough to stop.
“Before you,” he said.
I laughed weakly. “We’ve known each other five minutes in the grand scheme of things.”
“Long enough for me.”
“Rome.”
“Long enough,” he repeated. His voice dropped. “I don’t give a fuck what Brandi thinks. I don’t care what she wants. I don’t care what she says. She isn’t you.”
My eyes burned. I hated this. Hated that Brandi had gotten exactly what she wanted. She’d crawled into my head and made herself comfortable. “I know I shouldn’t care.”
“You’re allowed to care.”
“I hate that I do.”
“I hate that she hurt you.”
That shut me up.
Rome stepped closer. This time I didn’t move away. His hand settled at my waist.
Warm.
Steady.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“I want you.”
My breath caught.
“You, Josie. Not her. Not anyone else.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.
He must’ve seen it on my face because he sighed and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m gonna keep saying it until you believe me.”
“You might get tired.”
“Not happening.”
I closed my eyes.
His hand tightened on my waist. “And since we’re talking about people who need to mind their own fucking business, I’m going to pay your ex a visit tomorrow afternoon with some guys from the club.”
My eyes flew open.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Rome.”
“Baby-”
“No.” I stepped back, panic flaring. “You cannot do that.”
“I can.”
“You don’t want to get in trouble because of me.”
His eyes sharpened. “There you go again.”
“What?”
“Because of me.”
I swallowed. “It is because of me.”
“No. It’s because some asshole keeps fucking with you.”
“You don’t know it’s Bruce.”
“It has to be him.”
“Then you can’t just show up at his house with bikers.”
Rome’s brows lifted. “I can.”
I stared. “Rome. I don’t want you guys to get in trouble because of me.”
He shrugged. “Me and a few guys from the club are just going to talk to him, Josie.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. I had met the guys from the club. They were more likely talk with their fists than their mouths.
“We’re gonna talk.”
“Talk?”
“Talk.”
“With motorcycles and intimidation?”
“Possibly.”
I pressed my hands to my face. “This is insane.”
“It’s not insane.”
“It absolutely is.”
Rome crossed his arms. “I have no plans to put hands on the guy unless I need to.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
I dropped my hands. “Please don’t get arrested.” I wasn’t going to be able to talk him out of this.
He smirked. “We’ll try not to, but if I do, I doubt I’ll be in their long. I’ve tattooed all the cops in this town.”
“God help us,” I sighed.
He looked around the shop. “You done here?”
“Almost.”
“Come over to Bad Habit.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Come hang out with me.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“I still have cleaning,” I countered.
“I’ll help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“I know.” Of course he said that. Because Rome always knew I could do things myself. He just showed up anyway.
“I have an appointment coming in at eight-thirty,” he said. “Small piece. Won’t take long.”
“You want me to sit in your tattoo shop while you work?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I like having you around.”
Just like that. No smooth line. No big explanation. Just truth.
My heart squeezed. “Rome.”
“What?”
“I really am tired.”
“Then sit and be tired at my shop.”
I stared at him, and he stared back. I knew I was going to lose.
I wanted to be near him, too.
After Brandi.
After the awful day.
After every voice in my head tried to convince me I didn’t belong anywhere close to him.
I wanted Rome.
I sighed. “Fine.”
He smiled.
Rome helped me finish closing, and I let him. He wiped tables while I cleaned the scoops. He took out the trash without asking. He checked the back door. Then he stood near the front while I turned off the lights.
The shop went dim around us and the display case hummed quietly. The mural on the back wall faded into shadows.
His hand settled on the back of my neck. “You ready?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
We stepped outside and I locked the door. Then checked it twice. Rome noticed but didn’t comment. He simply held out his hand, I looked at it, then at him.
He waited.
Patient.
Steady.
Mine.
Maybe.
I slipped my hand into his and Rome closed his fingers around mine. He led me across Main Street toward Bad Habit.
The tattoo shop glowed beneath its black sign.
Scoop & Swirl sat quiet behind us.
And for the first time all night, I felt like I could breathe.