Page 193 of Romeo

None of that was going to satisfy King.

So I gave him the truth I’d known from the beginning.

“Because she’s mine.”

He stared at me. Then his expression hardened.

“She’s yours. That’s your answer?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you, Romeo. You don’t get to claim an eighteen-year-old girl like she’s a goddamn bike you found in a junkyard. You don’t get to decide she belongs to you just because you want her.”

The words hit exactly where they should have.

Months ago, I might’ve argued with him.

Now Morgan’s face from ten minutes earlier was still too fresh in my head.

“I know.”

That stopped him.

King’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I know I don’t get to decide that part.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about me.” I pushed away from the door and faced him fully. “I knew what Fiona was to me the first night I saw her. That doesn’t mean I get to tell her what I am to her.”

Some of the fury in his expression shifted, but not enough.

“So you saw a seventeen-year-old girl and decided she was yours.”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” I held his gaze. “And no, I didn’t start chasing a seventeen-year-old. I went home.”

King crossed his arms.

I continued before he could interrupt. “I met her at the ski resort in December, right before Christmas. Josie brought her back after a bad night at a school dance. She walked into the room, and I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“The same thing every fucking La Croix seems to know eventually.”

King’s expression flattened. “That fucking curse?”

“The La Croix curse.”

“Romeo.”