Chapter 18 Royce
EIGHTEEN
ROYCE
Ford slept on his stomach, with his dark lashes fanning his peaceful face.
It took me back to when we were kids, camping or at a random sleepover, and I’d see him asleep.
I never cared if his lashes looked sooty and thick, or how his back looked, and certainly there was never any ink to obsess over.
I’d been awake for what seemed like hours, but I was too comfortable to move.
More so, I was too enthralled with memorizing each and every piece of ink I could find on Ford’s body.
It was like a little treasure hunt. Along his ribs, he had a few poems from various periods of history.
There was a space reserved for his last name, and the club patch.
He had a familiar-looking field tattooed onto his arm, it looked like the one outside my house.
Then there was the one of two blue eyes, encased in lashes, seemingly staring. Somehow, I knew they were mine. A random piece of golden hair, with a poem tumbling down the strands.
My favorite addiction. You break me, and I still crave.
Another that rounded a pair of pink lips: You dare me to taste, I dare you to confess.
Intricate pieces of heartache and pain that painted his torso, and seemingly grew fingers, reaching for my heart. I wanted so badly to go back in time and read that stupid Christmas card. I wanted back the time that was stolen from us.
A burning sensation began in my nose as I let my fingers trace over one last design. It was a flower, one that looked so much like a wildflower, but there was something distinctly different about it. I used the browser on my phone to scan the image to tell me what it was.
Wild rose.
My chest nearly caved at how faded the lines were, and how he must have had this ink staining his skin for a long time. This confession permanently stamped into his future, regardless of who he ended up with. He’d tainted his entire body with traces of me.
I was in nearly every design that outlined his form. The muscles that shifted under his skin would have to do so with the reminder that I was branded on his heart. Ford lied about his crush, and the love he had for me. He’d never stopped.
“Why are you crying?” His raspy voice broke into the quiet, while his warm hand gripped my hip. I was barely clinging to the sob that was stuck in my throat.
“I’m not.”
His head lifted, his assessing gaze searching my face for the lie. “You are. Are you regretting last night?”
My hand shot out to his jaw, holding it and caressing the soft beard that was growing there.
“Not even close. I hate that we could have been here sooner. I hate that I didn’t read that card, Ford.
I hate that I hurt you. I was so…” I was unsure how to even explain it.
“I used to come over to your house just for a chance that you’d notice me.
I would actually ask if I could clean for your mom, do you remember that? ”
His rumble of laughter made the tension in my chest feel lighter.
He resumed his spot in bed, lying down then pulling me against his chest. “She had a housekeeper who helped with the deep cleaning who came once a week. But I think she knew what you were doing because Ellie mentioned it. Said she thought you had a crush on me.”
A tear slid down the side of my face as I laughed. “Such a big crush, Ford. When you kissed me in the cellar when we were kids…it was like this dam burst. I was obsessed with you, and you didn’t seem to care, or to notice me. The rejection stung.”
His nose slid across my jaw before his mouth found a way there. “I was insecure because Connor followed you like a puppy. I assumed you wanted him.”
“So you pushed me away.” It wasn’t a question anymore, I knew it was what he’d done.
His warm breath fanned my neck. “He talked about you incessantly. Wanted to marry you and have babies with you. Told anyone and everyone who would listen. I got angry, and I took it out on you.”
I pulled his hand up to my chest and laid it over my heart. “What sort of things did you imagine for the future? If I hadn’t rejected your card, and you hadn’t pushed me away. If Connor wasn’t in the picture…what would our future have looked like?”
“I don’t know…back then I wanted to go to college, and one day build things…I guess I pictured you in a wedding dress at one point. Getting married in those fields you love so much.”
The one he’d permanently drawn onto his skin. “Go on…”
“I never pictured a cat…I pictured a dog, and a house. The one in my mind back then looked more like my parents’ house, and less like a rundown piece of shit, but it was also where our kids grew up.”
“We had kids?” My voice was rough with emotion. I followed along with his words, seeing myself in a beautiful white dress, and a house that didn’t exactly look like this one, and a boy and a girl who looked like a blend of each of us.
Ford drew a design into my skin before agreeing. “I want them eventually.”
“Me too.”
“Good, then when you’re ready to hop off the birth control, let me know, we’ll start practicing.”
I smiled, even as I swatted his chest. He caught my hand and kissed my palm.
“I’m dead fucking serious, Rose.” Rolling over the top of me, he caged me in with his arms.
Tracing a line up his chest and along his throat, I asked, “Does that mean I’m getting a property patch?”
I’d always wanted one when I was little.
My mother had one that she wore when there were big club events, and anytime we went somewhere that would have bikers.
It was a leather jacket that had her name on the front, and on the back had my father’s wolf insignia along with the club patch, and in big white letters, said: Property of the Wolf.
Hers also said President’s Wife along each shoulder, because he was the leader, and she was his woman.
It was a way of telling everyone in the motorcycle club community that she wasn’t patched to a random member.
She belonged to the president of the whole goddamn club.
Ford’s mom had one as well, but hers had the club patch, not the wolf.
I assumed Ford would tell me, “hell yeah,” since he’d been so open and engaging about our relationship, but he immediately rolled off me and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Shit, I forgot I had church this morning.”
I wrapped my hands around his waist, placing my head against his back. “Surely dating the president’s daughter gives you a pass, right?”
His head turned, allowing our gazes to meet.
Mine was playful, silently begging him to come back to bed.
His was something else…there was that warning that Connor had left me with, and it shone through Ford’s eyes.
He wasn’t telling me something, and while I was typically pretty good at conjuring up fake scenarios and ideas of what it could be, I simply refused to.
I knew he wanted this. He wanted me, I believed that to my very marrow. So why was he holding something back?
Right as he opened his mouth to respond, someone banged on his front door. Gus ran into the bedroom, darting under the bed as the pounding stopped, only to start again.
“Who the hell is that?” It was like eight in the morning.
Ford’s determined gaze swung to the bedroom door as he heaved in a sigh. “I’ll give you one guess.” He stood from the bed and moved to the dresser where he yanked out a pair of sweats. “Honestly, I’m shocked he gave us the night.”
That had me scrambling out of bed. “You think it’s my dad?”
“I know it’s your dad.”
Sure enough, seconds later my father’s voice came muffled through the door. “Ford, open the fucking door.”
I was naked, and my father was about to burst into Ford’s house. Ohmyfreakinggosh.
Did my mother know about this? I needed to call Taryn.
Priorities, though, I needed clothes. My bag was on the floor where I left it, so I ran over to it and tossed it on the bed, yanking out the underwear, bra, and leggings.
“Just shut the door, we’ll be a second anyway.” Ford kissed my forehead before leaving his room, shutting the door behind him.
I quickly pulled on clothes while I heard my father enter the house. “Do you have your phone off, or what’s going on?” I heard him say.
Ford rumbled a reply, but it was too low for me to catch.
“Where’s my daughter?”
Oh no. I shimmied into my leggings, trying to pull them up before the two of them started fighting. Ford was yelling over him, but Dad kept cutting him off, so it was hard to make out. As soon as I was dressed, I yanked the door open.
“Dad!” He was standing too close to Ford, the two glaring at one another.
Ford’s jaw was tense, and his eyes were hard.
He was shirtless, in just his sweats, barefoot too.
I was going to commit the image to my memories, merely for the fact that his hair was mussed from when I’d run my hands through it.
My father’s sharp green gaze swung over to me, his mouth twisting angrily. “Royce, go get in my truck.”
Ford shifted his stance so he was closer to me. “Killian, if she’s going anywhere, then I’ll be the one to take her.”
My dad didn’t laugh. He didn’t scoff or groan. He stayed completely quiet, which made my hands shake. “Dad, I’m with Ford.”
“You don’t know him!” Dad screamed in reply, his face a deeper shade of red. “You don’t know this world, Royce. I’ve kept you close enough to keep safe, but far enough so you aren’t aware of what we do. This is a different world we live in now. Different from when I led things…” he trailed off.
Ford reached my side, pulling my hand into his. “She knows me better than anyone, Killian. She’s known me since we were fucking toddlers, for fuck’s sake. Don’t try and act like she’s some outsider who doesn’t know shit. Give her the credit she’s due as the daughter of the fucking Wolf.”
“So what, Ford? You going to patch her, keep her concealed in that club, or maybe have her be here, in the middle of town where you have three rival members watching you?”