Grimm Prince, page 14
“I could do that,” he said. “I could make it up to you today. Right now.”
“Sounds good to me.” Rosie bit at her lower lip, tugging it into her mouth.
“But it’ll end at some point. It’s not gonna last. No love story ever lasts.”
“You sound like Trix.” She wrinkled her nose at him, but she didn’t back down.
“I need to focus on my legacy, on this house.”
“Now you sound like my mom.” Rosie put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart skip a beat. “Wait, did you talk to my mother?”
Jake said nothing. He didn’t remove her hand. He didn’t step away from her, either. Even as he was breaking up with her, he still wanted to keep her close. It was the exact insanity of his parents.
“Let me guess; my mother tried to make you leave.”
“I’m not cut out for it, Rosie.” He twined his fingers with hers, giving off every mixed message in the book. “I’m a soldier, not a prince. I give orders, not true love kisses. This would be good for now, but one day it’d be over.”
“I don’t believe that. That’s not what’s in the cards for us.”
“Yes, it is. Look at our parents. It’s all we know. “ Jake let Rosie’s hand go.
She held firm. “Why can’t you have faith?”
“Why can’t you face facts?”
“You’re throwing a grenade at this—at us—because you’re scared.”
“Both our parents promised each other forever. They claimed they were in love, and then they broke each other. I don’t want to do that to you.”
“Then don’t. You’re a man of your word. Promise me you won’t, and I’ll believe you.”
Jake knew that he would never feel this way about another girl. He didn’t need to make a list. He didn’t need intel. What he wasn’t sure about was which one of them would break the other’s heart first.
He should throw a hand grenade on the situation. He should make a slut-shaming crack about their time together. Or lie and tell her he was with another woman last night. Or worse, rag on her cards and how she had gotten it all wrong. How the cards had gotten him and his feelings for her all wrong. But all of that would be a lie.
Instead, he told the truth: “I can’t promise you tomorrow.”
She swallowed. He hated causing her even that much pain. He wanted to go to her and rub his thumbs over her throat. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed up the steps. The floorboards didn’t creak as he took them to the top two at a time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It wasn't the dulcet tones of birdsong that stirred Rosie the next morning. Nor was it the insistent cries of crows. A randy rooster's cock-a-doodle-do ripped Rosie from her dreamless sleep.
One of the reasons roosters crowed was to assert their dominance over the flock. None of the hens in her grandmother's coop had to worry if their man wanted them or not. Nope, Randy out there (yes, that was his actual name) made it clear to the entire animal kingdom on the farm. He'd found the hen—or rather hens—of his dreams and wanted everyone to know about it.
Lucky chicks.
"Rosie! Sweetie, you alive in there?"
Rosie groaned and pulled the rumpled bedsheets over her head. Or she tried to. Her fingers weren't cooperating. Looking down at her digits, they resembled long feathers instead of fingers.
The door opened to reveal Trix. She wore a red scarf around her head, which let her long locks cascade down her back like a chicken’s comb; that fleshy growth that sat on top of their heads. Xian came in behind Trix, her ponytail shaking like a chicken's wattle, the back tailfeathers of the birds.
"We've been calling and texting," Xian cooed as she sat down on the bed. "You missed Declutter Day."
This week had been Xian's turn to host their girls' self-care night. Of course, the neat freak chose a cleaning activity.
Behind Xian, Trix mouthed the words thank you before ruffling her feathers and clucking at Rosie. "We thought you stood us up to be with your new man-toy. Then I saw him walking by your shop last night and peering in like a lost little boy."
"Jake was looking for me?" Rosie sat up. Or she tried to. Her limbs felt so relaxed that she thought she was floating or flying. Chickens could fly. Just not very far. They were more puddle jumpers than Boeing 747s. Rosie didn't possess the ability to fly; she flopped right back down onto the bed.
"Avó Léonie, did you give her something?"
"Just a little something to take the edge off," came her grandmother's disembodied voice from somewhere down the hall.
"She's high," muttered Trix.
"She showed up in the middle of the night a ball of chaotic energy. She's mellow now."
"What about Jake?" said Rosie, trying to focus past the pleasant euphoria coursing through her bloodstream.
She'd known that the tea her grandmother set before had been spiked with herbs. She'd welcomed it last night when she was all in her feelings. Now she had to get serious. There was nothing worse than having to get serious and focused with one of her grandmother's brews in the veins.
"Did he come looking for me?"
"I thought so at first," said Trix. "But when he saw me, he hightailed it the other way. What happened?"
"You two get into a fight?" asked Xian.
"Do I need to go over to Grimm House and kick down a door with an AK57?"
"It's 47," said Xian.
"How do you know that? You're a pacifist."
"I'm also an American who's been alive during the millennia." Xian turned her attention back to Rosie. "Honey, what do you need? We can do ice cream or we can do the door kicking. But without the hardware."
Rosie flopped back down on the bed. Or she thought she did. "My prince walked away from me. He's supposed to sweep me off my feet, but he walked away."
Rosie made a shooing motion with her hand. Since her hands were still feathers, it looked more like a fluttering motion.
"I got it wrong," Rosie admitted.
"You got him wrong?" asked Trix.
"No, he's perfect." The rooster outside let out another bellowing crow. "Well, he's not perfect. He thinks he's an antihero. He broke up with me because he thinks he's going to break my heart."
"He broke up to save you?" said Trix. "Oh, I love that trope in a romance novel. Never seen it in real life, though. Most men are too selfish."
"I pulled the Tower the other day, and everything is crumbling around me."
Her friends said nothing. Xian petted Rosie's finger-feathers. Trix cocked her head to the side, causing her comb to flutter.
"I know you two don't believe in soul mates—"
"We never said that," said Trix.
"You don't take your readings seriously," said Rosie.
"You give great advice. It comes from you, not the cards. From your intuition and life experience."
"That's so deep, Trixie. When did you become so wise?"
"I always have been. Just took you getting high to notice."
"I was having a dark moment, and you two came to my rescue."
"We're your girls," Trix cooed. "Of course we're going to come to rescue you from yourself."
"You'll help me plot a grand gesture to get him back?"
"No way." Trix screwed up her nose. "He messed up. That's his responsibility to make it right by groveling."
"Maybe he was trying to do that last night when you saw him. I should go and see."
Rosie pushed off the mattress, coming to a sitting position. The world teetered for a second, but her friends steadied her, Xian on one side and Trix on the other.
"I love you chicks," Rosie said with a sigh. "You're always in my coop."
"Of course we are, sweetie," Xian soothed.
"Rosie," called her grandmother, "there's a young man here for you."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Come get that door up, Beast. Wolfe, are you finished with the windows? Once you are, I need you in here to help me with these floors.”
Jake had long since discarded his shirt. It was covered in dust, and dirt, and he didn’t know what. There were more rips in his jeans than fabric holding it together. But he had to keep pushing. He needed to get his house in order.
The first floor would pass any safety inspection the mayor might throw at him in her quest to turn Grimm House into a themed castle. Now they were all on the second floor, trying to whip the bedrooms into shape. Charming’s room had been cleaned out and put together. They would have new mattresses delivered tomorrow so that the men wouldn’t have to sleep in sacks on the floor anymore.
Jake had turned his bed over to Beast, who needed the soft mattress more than any of them with his injuries still healing. It wasn’t like Jake was using the bed for anything. It was nearing forty-eight hours since he’d closed his eyes for longer than a few minutes.
“You do realize we’re all still recovering,” said Beast.
That pulled Jake up short. He knew Beast was hurting by the way he moved slower when he thought no one was watching. None of them usually talked about their injuries out loud. Definitely not the ones that made them seem weak.
“Why are you pushing so hard?” Beast set down his hammer and approached Jake. The angry flesh from the shrapnel that had burned his face and chest was visible beneath his white tee.
“Sorry, man. If you need to take a break—"
“I’m not the one walking the halls in the middle of the night. Or who’s unable to sit still for more than five minutes. Or can’t hold a coherent conversation for longer than ten.”
Charming had come up beside Beast. He’d had two good days where he’d woken up with only mild confusion, retaining a handful of memories from the previous day. His gray gaze told Jake that he was seeing exactly what Beast was seeing.
Wolfe was the only one that held back. He knew why Jake was pushing so hard. He might have kept his mouth shut, but those hazel eyes urged Jake to spill the truth.
“Did you break up with Rosalee?” asked Charming. “I wrote in my journal that she was your girlfriend. I haven’t seen her today.”
The doctors had urged Charming to start keeping a diary—though he refused to call it that. In the journal, Charming was supposed to write down what happened each day to help with his memories. He’d asked about Rosie yesterday as well.
“Rosie and I…”
Jake couldn’t finish that sentence. His mind and his heart were having trouble accepting that the relationship was finished. He’d found himself out walking last night and stopped by her shop. A hint of lavender wafted to him on the breeze. When he turned, he saw the outline of her roommate Trix and turned to go the other way before she saw him.
“You’re trying to get this place together so she can move in?” asked Beast.
“Is that why she hasn’t been back?” asked Charming. “Because this place is an eyesore?”
“That’s why you’re not sleeping and busting your ass? So you can get a little—ow!” Beast rubbed at his arm.
Belatedly, Jake realized that was his injured arm. But he wasn’t about to apologize.
“You were different with her,” said Beast, rolling his shoulder.
“Yeah, because she was still around the next morning,” said Wolfe.
“She’s The One for you,” said Charming.
“She’s not the one.” Jake coughed at the end of the sentence, sawdust coating his tongue. He spat the dirt out and tried again. “I’m not the one for her.”
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Beast.
“Wait.” Wolfe held up a finger. “I’m sure I have that list somewhere.”
“She’s the kind of girl you marry, settle down, and have kids with,” said Jake.
“I think you’re settling here,” said Beast. “You already have a few kids you’re taking care of.”
“I, for one, would like a new mommy.” Wolfe dodged Jake’s blow.
But Wolfe’s verbal blow hit Jake square in the chest. His friends were right. This place didn’t just feel like home; it was home. These men were his family. The only thing missing was Rosie. Too bad he’d blown that up.
“She’s not moving in,” Jake insisted. “I’m doing this for us. I owe you all this. I’m the one that gave the order to move in on that last mission. I’m the reason our military careers are over. The least I can do is give you all a place to rest and recover.”
“Neither Charming nor I believe that,” said Beast. “Hunter and Thorne would say the same thing if they were here. Ops go bad. You can’t blame yourself.”
“Well, I did, and I do.”
“I can’t talk you out of that, man,” said Beast. “Maybe you need to go to counseling.”
Jake grimaced at the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to another person about his feelings. Unless that person was Rosie.
“That’s not the reason you’re pushing us.” Beast crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited.
Charming’s gaze was clear as he regarded Jake.
Wolfe lifted a brow that said You need to tell them.
Jake was too weary to argue, so he let the truth come out. “The city wanted the house to be condemned.”
“Makes sense.” Beast shrugged. “It wasn’t in a livable condition a few days ago. Now we’re rehabbing it, so we’re good. Right?”
“The mayor wants to turn it into some kind of Disney-themed hotel for tourists.”
Jake conveniently left out the mayor’s deal to leave it as a rehabilitation center for vets if he left town and didn’t see her daughter anymore. Jake had agreed with the part about not seeing Rosie anymore. But he wasn’t leaving town.
He still didn't think he could be the man Rosie deserved, but he needed to make sure whoever stepped up next would be. Though he knew that bastard, whoever he was, would never be good enough for her.
“Wolfe filed paperwork to halt them, but we’re still on borrowed time.”
Jake’s friends exchanged a look. They had always excelled at that silent communication during an operation. He didn’t like it in civilian life.
“What does this mean?” asked Charming. “We may have to leave?”
“No,” Jake insisted. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You’re dead on your feet,” said Beast. “You need to go and get some shut-eye.”
“Can’t. We gotta finish this. We’re almost done. Just a few more repairs and then—"
A boom sounded. All the men ducked for cover. When the dust settled, they saw they had a major problem.
Chapter Thirty
Walking out into her grandmother's garden might not have been the smartest thing in Rosie's condition. But she had to admit that the fresh air was doing her some good. The fresh scent of lavender cleared her head at the same time as it made her think of Jake.
Rosie wondered if he'd slept last night. He hadn't looked like he'd gotten any shut-eye when she'd seen him yesterday, when he'd insisted their love story wasn't in the cards and had taken away their tomorrows. The bastard.
"I brought something for you."
Rosie turned her attention back to the man who was walking by her side. The sun glinted off Woody's curly brown hair. With his profile tilted down, it cast parts of his face in shadow, which only served to highlight his patrician nose and high cheekbones. His features looked like they had been carved from marble or stone.
No, both of those comparisons were wrong. Woody's skin was neither pale nor gray. He had warm skin tones, like the interior bark of an aged tree.
He had been the handsomest boy in school, but he'd never carried himself like he was God's gift to women. He'd never been the kind to chase after girls. Except for her.
"Well, I didn't buy them." Woody dug into his back pocket. "I made them."
He produced a rectangular bundle. When the tissue paper fell away, a deck of tarot cards rested in his palm. Woody lifted Rosie's hand and transferred the deck to hers.
The set was breath-taking. Made of paper-thin slats of wood, instead of paintings, the face of each card was carved with the names of the major and minor arcana.
"Woody, these are exquisite."
Rosie reached up and tugged Woody into a hug. The cedar wood scent of him was so familiar and comforting. For a moment, it blocked out the smell of lavender sprouting at their feet.
"You're exquisite, Ro. I've always thought so." Woody wrapped his arms around her tightly, tugging her to him in a way that was a touch more than friendly. "It's always been you for me."
Rosie let go and stepped back. Woody was reluctant. In the end, he let her go. They'd had this conversation more than once over the years after their breakup. He turned his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before facing her again.
"I've always been there for you, Ro. Waiting patiently for you to see that I'm the man who accepts you as you are. I know everything about you, including your parents, and I haven't run."
That almost got a laugh out of her. Rosie dipped her head. Looking down, she saw that the Knight of Cups card sat on top of the deck Woody had crafted for her.
"He just showed up," said Woody.
Woody didn't need to clarify the he. Jake had been the only other man she'd dated in town. The practice boyfriends had all been in college.
"I've always been here. I've been right here waiting for you because I know, without a doubt, that you're the only one for me."
There were no pictures on the wooden cards. Much of Rosie's readings came from her interpretations of the images drawn on the cards. It's why most tarot readers had so many decks. Each depiction could give a slightly different reading based on how the reader interpreted it.
Woody didn't realize he'd put the answer to his question right in her hands. Rosie had never seen a future with him. She'd never seen a life with any of the guys she'd dated. Until she fell into Jake Grimm's rough embrace.
Woody's features dimmed. Like he'd read the verdict on her face. He did know her well.
"How does that work?" he asked. "How can you be the one for me, but I'm not the one for you? And he doesn't want you."
