“What’s going on, Roxie?” he demands, his brow furrowing at me and his mouth in a deep frown like it always is when I’ve done something to anger him. Which is … pretty much all the time. “You didn’t answer your phone or the one at the front desk. You have me worried sick!”

  He doesn’t sound worried sick. He sounds angry. Disappointed. As always.

  “The power went out⁠—”

  “It’s back on now,” he interrupts before I can even finish my sentence. “You were here alone and there was a horrible storm, and nobody knew if you were okay! You had nobody to take care of you⁠—”

  “I can take care of myself!” I snap back, anger and indignation rising to drown out the emotions he spent a lifetime instilling into me. “I am not a little girl anymore. I’m not weak or silly or irresponsible or whatever the hell else you think of me! I am a grown woman, and I’m more than capable of surviving a storm for God’s sake!”

  Dad blinks at me before he shakes his head and sighs like I’m giving him a headache. I can practically see him thinking a prayer for patience to the God whose name I’ve just taken in vain. But we’re not at one of his Sunday services, and I simply have lost my ability to care what judgment he or God passes on me.

  In fact, I don’t care what anyone in this stupid town thinks of me. I care what I think. I care what Ronan thinks. Everyone else? They can shove their opinions up their asses for all I care.

  “If you’re quite done with your attitude,” Dad says in that holier-than-thou voice that makes me bristle. But I’m not the little girl he can control anymore. “We have more important matters to discuss.”

  I blink at him, unable to hide my sneer. More important matters than him apparently coming to check on my safety? Something cold and icy slips through my body, dread filling me. I just know that whatever he’s about to say, it can’t be good.

  “You remember Jim Morton?” he asks casually, not waiting for me to answer before he continues. “Well, his son has just returned from overseas. A fine young man, that Abe is. Comes from a good family, you know, always attends church, has a degree in law and everything.”

  “Okay…” I say slowly, not understanding where he’s going with this.

  “He’ll make a fine husband for you, Roxie,” Dad declares, and I freeze.

  No. No. Absolutely not.

  My entire life, I’ve been adamant about one thing—I don’t want a marriage like the one my parents have. They got married at twenty, had a child, built a life together—not out of love, but out of convenience. Their families were close. They lived in the same town. Both went to church. Growing up, it was evident to me that they didn’t share any real love. They tolerated each other but put on a good show in front of everyone else. Our house was always cold, and there were always shadows in my mother’s eyes that darkened when my father was in the room.

  I want love. Passion. True desire.

  What my dad suggests? It’s my worst fucking nightmare.

  “No,” I breathe, shaking my head.

  “Everything’s arranged,” my father continues, completely ignoring my protest. “It’ll be wonderful for you, Roxie. Exactly what you need. You’re such a good girl, and he’s a good man⁠—”

  “No,” I repeat, my voice shaking. But my father acts as though I’m not even talking.

  “Of course, Abe would like to court you for a little while, but marriage is obviously the next step⁠—”

  “My girl won’t be marrying anyone but me.”

  Ronan’s dark, gravelly voice rushes through my mind as I gasp, turning quickly to find him standing behind me, glaring daggers at Dad. I didn’t even hear him approach, didn’t even realize he’d woken up. But he’s here, standing up for me, defending me, claiming me.

  “Excuse me?” Dad sputters, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping in absolute shock. It’s so satisfying to see that I can’t help the smile tugging at my mouth.

  Ronan winds an arm around my waist, pulling me to him possessively. I lean into him, soaking up his steady presence, my mind spinning as my heart thuds so hard in my chest I think it might break free.

  “You heard me,” Ronan says, his voice as steady as his body against mine.

  “My daughter is not your girl, she’s not your anything!” Dad yells, his face turning purple as rage overrides his momentary shock. He points a finger at Ronan, fury radiating off him. “I don’t know what hole you crawled out of, boy, but you need to learn some respect! Step away from my daughter right this instant or⁠—”

  “Or what?” Ronan asks, sounding genuinely curious. I slap my hand over my mouth to try to muffle my laughter, feeling giddy with amusement at their argument.

  It shouldn’t be funny, but I can’t help it. All my emotions are a big jumble in my stomach, and I can’t control them anymore. I’m angry, furious really, at my dad for thinking he can just marry off to whoever’s most convenient. I’m in shock at Ronan’s declaration that the only person I’ll be marrying is him.

  There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling wrapping around my heart at the determination he has in standing up to Dad, the way he doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him. Then again, why would he be? He didn’t grow up here and he never had to be squashed under Dad’s thumb the way I have been. Ronan is a law unto himself, and now he’s determined to protect me.

  Oh God, I love him.

  The realization hits me like a physical shove, and I rock back on my feet a little. Logic tells me it’s far too fast to feel that, but logic has nothing on my heart. Ronan swept into this town like the storm, and I want him to carry me away.

  Dad doesn’t have an answer to Ronan’s question, standing in the doorway with his mouth gaping open and closed like a goldfish out of water.

  “You cannot just … just … steal my daughter!” he finally manages to say, his pale blue gaze swinging between Ronan and me. I’ve seen Dad angry before, but I’ve never seen him so … powerless.

  It makes me feel even more powerful.

  “Unlike you, old man, I have no desire to control Roxie or to make her choices for her,” Ronan comments, not shouting unlike my father, but with a cool, calm threat in his tone all the same. “I want to support her, to show her just how incredible she is, to free her from the ridiculous weight of expectation you’ve shoved on her shoulders.”

  I could cry at that declaration, but I refuse to let my father see any more of my tears. Ronan makes me feel like I really do have control here, like I can do anything I want.

  “How dare you—” Dad starts, but I interrupt him. I’ve never dared to speak over him in my life, but as I stand there with Ronan at my side, I can feel the ties to this town, to the life I’ve been forced to lead all these years, falling away from me.

  “I won’t marry Abe,” I declare, thoroughly enjoying the anger that flashes through my father’s eyes as I stand my ground. “I won’t marry anyone you try to set me up with. I’m not a pawn you can use to your advantage, Dad. I’m sick of trying to be good, of doing what I’m told even though it makes me miserable. I deserve better. I always have.”

  Ronan looks down at me with pride shining in his gaze, and I burn with love and desire and admiration under his gaze.

  “Don’t be ridiculous Roxie!” my father seethes. “You’re a good girl⁠—”

  “No,” I say with finality, shaking my head as I straighten my spine. “I’m not.”

  Ronan’s hand flexes on my waist. “I think you should leave,” he says coolly to my father, raising a brow at him. “Before I have to defend my girl with more than words.”

  The thinly veiled threat makes Dad’s face pale. He looks between us again, and I stand my ground.

  “This isn’t over,” my father spits, sneering at Ronan once more before he turns on his heel and storms away.

  Ronan kicks the front door closed on my father, and immediately I jump into his arms, winding my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  I don’t give a single fuck what my father says or tries to do. I’m not his little girl anymore. I’m not the Roxie who tries to fit into the good girl mold this town has always tried to shove me into.

  Now, I’m ready to learn who I really am.

  And that starts with being Ronan Ross’ girl.

  5

  RONAN

  Ionly meant to stop for a night, but three days later, I’m making Roxie tea in the kitchen while she checks last night’s guest out of the Airbnb.

  There’s no fucking way I’m leaving without her. My brother laughed at me when I called to tell him the delay, but said that he’d been handling business for an entire year since I was arrested and that another few days was hardly going to be an issue. Before we hung up, he made me promise to introduce to him the girl who managed to capture me in just a day. I miss my brother and can’t wait to finally be home again, but I know deep in my very bones that nowhere will feel like home again unless Roxie is with me.

  I’m stirring the sugar into her tea because my girl likes things sweet when she pads into the kitchen on slippered feet. Immediately, all my attention hones in on her. Nothing else exists when Roxie’s near. Nothing else matters.

  I slide her mug across the counter, and she smiles at me with sparkling eyes.

  “He’s gone,” she says, meaning the other guest, as she leans against the counter and wraps her hands around the warm mug.

  “Good,” I answer, smirking at her. “I much prefer being alone with you.”

  She giggles. “The feeling’s mutual.” Something crosses her expression, and she frowns, shifting on her feet. “I suppose I’ll be checking you out of here soon, too.”

  “Only if you’re checking out with me,” I tell her quickly.

  Her eyes snap back to mine. “You’re serious. Is that … I mean … could I really leave with you?”

  I step closer to her, my arm sliding around her waist possessively. “You’re mine, sunflower,” I remind her. “Nothing and no one could force me away from you now.”

  She melts against me, exhaling heavily. “I want that,” she says softly. “Take me away from here, Ronan.”

  “Go pack then, Roxie.”

  She pulls away with a grin that quickly falls. “Most of my stuff is still at my parents’ house,” she admits, pulling a face that tells me just how much she hates the idea of going near her father.

  But there’s no way in hell I’ll let that pathetic pastor wreck my plans.

  “Then we’ll go get it,” I decide, showing Roxie just how much I mean it. “Get whatever you need from here, and we’ll go get the rest of it on the way.”

  “Now?” Roxie asks, her voice somewhere between shocked and excited.

  “Now,” I agree, smirking as she scampers away to grab whatever stuff she has here.

  Minutes later, we’re in my car. Roxie gives me directions to her parents’ house, just around the corner, but when I pull up outside, she makes no move to get out of the car.

  “Look at me, sunflower,” I demand, and she does, nervousness written all over her gorgeous face. I reach across the center console and squeeze her thigh. “I won’t let anyone take your life away from you. Whatever he says, he can’t control you anymore. I swear to you, Roxie, I’ll make sure you get every fucking thing you ever want in life, you hear me?”

  In answer, Roxie shuffles to face me, leaning over to kiss me deeply before pulling away and giving me a sharp nod. “I’m ready.”

  I slide out of the car and walk around, opening her door for her. When she gets out, I take her hand, wanting her to remember she’s not alone anymore.

  Roxie knocks on the door, and seconds later, a familiar face opens it.

  “Dad,” Roxie greets, voice strained.

  “Ah, Roxie, perfect timing!” her father announces, completely ignoring my entire existence as he plasters a fake ass smile on his wrinkled face.

  “What? Why?” Roxie asks, as confused as I am about what the fuck he’s on about.

  “Come in, come in.” Her father ushers her in, glaring at me when I refuse to drop her hand and barge in behind her. I offer him a smile in return, and he looks away, making me grin wider.

  Other voices ring through the air as the front door closes behind us, and suspicion curls in my gut. I tighten my hold on Roxie, keeping her close.

  “Dad, who⁠—”

  “Roxie, you remember Abe, don’t you?” the pastor cuts in as we turn the corner to what’s clearly the living room. A man rises from the sofa, and I analyze him. He’s nearly as tall as me and muscular, but I bet my ass he’s never been in a fight before. He has that gym boy look, the kind who likes to brag about how much they bench but probably can’t throw a punch without breaking their own thumb.

  I scoff, not bothering to hide my distaste. Roxie shuffles closer to me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, holding Abe’s gaze.

  So this is the asshole her father wants to marry her off to like she’s some possession that can be traded for connections.

  “I’ve been so excited to see you properly again, Roxie,” Abe says, his gaze flicking between my girl and me. There’s uncertainty in his dark eyes that he does a shit job of hiding.

  I step in front of Roxie, hiding her from view. “Don’t fucking look at her,” I snap, making Abe’s eyes widen comically. I’m too angry to find any amusement in it, though.

  “Uh, who are you?” he stutters, looking at Roxie’s father as if that pathetic fucker can do anything to protect him from me.

  “I’m hers,” I snarl, glaring Abe down.

  “Roxie, don’t be ridiculous—” the pastor tries to say, but I talk over him.

  “Let’s get one thing fucking clear,” I say, pointing a finger at Abe. “No matter what deal you’ve struck with her father, Roxie will never be yours.”

  Abe shakes his head. “I’ll be a good husband to her,” he starts to say, but I lose any patience I’ve managed to cling to up to now.

  I surge forward, grab Abe by his shirt, and yank him back through the front door, taking him outside. In my periphery, I see Roxie step in front of her father, stopping him from following me.

  I slam Abe against the side of the house, grinning in satisfaction when he makes an oof noise as the air leaves his lungs.

  “What the fuck man? Get off me!” Abe yells, shoving me away.

  He’s strong, I’ll give him that, but I’m stronger. If there’s one thing prison did for me, it’s make me fitter than I’ve ever been. He throws a shit punch that I easily dodge before raising my fist to pop him in the jaw. He reels, and I pin him back against the house, holding him still by pressing my weight against him.

  “Stay the fuck away from my girl if you want to live to see another day,” I threaten, my face so close to his I can see sweat beading on his brow.

  “Stay out of it,” Abe counters, struggling in my grip. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken,” I growl. “She has nothing to do with you. She’s not a fucking pawn you can trade for. She deserves far better than this shitty town and her shitty father and some pathetic, shitty husband.”

  “What—”

  “Here’s what you’re going to do, Abe,” I instruct, my voice as hard as my grip on him. “You’re going to walk your ass back in that house, tell her father the deal’s off and you’ve changed your mind, then walk back out. And if I ever see you around my girl again, I won’t be nearly as kind as I have been today.”

  There’s a bruise already forming on his jaw as proof of my kindness, and I hope it hurts like a motherfucker. I want to hit him again, to make him suffer for what he’s done, but I want to get back to my girl more.

  Abe sputters, not giving me a proper response.

  “Do we have a deal, Abe, or do I need to show you what will happen if you disobey?” I ask, and he pales, realizing just how serious I am.

  “Okay,” he breathes, nodding vigorously. “Fuck, okay.”

  I drop him, and he stumbles on his feet before righting himself. He rushes inside, and I follow on his heels, ready to grab him again if he does anything but what I’ve told him to.

  In the living room, Roxie’s father is seething, and she looks furious, but before the old asshole can get a word out, Abe starts to talk.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he declares, and the pastor’s jaw drops open. “The deal’s off. I’m sorry.”

  Abe spares a glance at me before turning and practically sprinting out of the house, leaving the pastor gaping at him. His head swings in my direction, fury and disbelief written all over his expression.

  “What have you done?!” he seethes.

  I shrug, raising a brow at him. “I did nothing,” I lie. “Good old Abe just changed his mind. Deal fell through. What a shame.” Sarcasm drips from my words, and though the pastor looks ready to ask God to smite me, there’s fuck all he can do about what just happened.

  “Go pack, sunflower,” I whisper to Roxie, squeezing her hand in silent reassurance.

  “Roxie, come back here!” her father demands as Roxie rushes out of the room and up the stairs to gather her stuff.

  “She doesn’t answer to you, not anymore,” I tell him.

  He sneers at me. “And I suppose she answers to you now, is that it? You just ruined her future!”

  I shake my head, utterly unfazed by this man’s bullshit. “Roxie answers to no one but herself,” I tell him. “Unlike you and the husband you’d give her away to, I don’t want her trapped and silent. I’m not out to control her. No, I want to help free her. From this town, from your decisions about her future, from the life she’s spent years caged in and miserable.”

  Her father’s breaths come in heaves, and he’s shaking with anger.

  I hear footsteps on the stairs, and a glance over my shoulder shows that Roxie has paused in the doorway, hastily packed bags hanging over her arms.

  “You’ve ruined my daughter,” the pastor shouts, spit flying from his mouth.

  I laugh in his face, reveling in his ridiculousness. “Unlike you, I don’t want Roxie to be anything but exactly who she is,” I answer, staring him down. “I hope for her sake that you can look past your selfishness and the petty attitude of this town to support her like she deserves. But until then, you won’t set sight on her again.”

 

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