Page 34 of Romeo

I set my phone on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling.

Ma Belle.

My beautiful.

I’d looked it up even though I already knew enough French to guess.

Maybe that was the problem with Jasper.

Every answer only seemed to create another question.

And until one of us finally stopped hiding behind them, I had a feeling neither of us was going to get much sleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

Romeo

The clubhouse was quiet at three in the morning. Most of the brothers had disappeared into their rooms hours ago, and the common room was dark except for the glow of some late-night infomercial claiming a set of kitchen knives could cut through a penny. I hadn’t watched a second of it. I was staring at my phone. Again.

Fiona had texted goodnight six hours ago.

Six fucking hours.

Apparently, that was long enough for me to forget every rule of normal human behavior and start wondering whether sending another text would qualify as charming persistence or make me look like a lunatic.

Probably the second one.

I left the phone face down on the cushion beside me. Made it almost thirty seconds before turning it over again.

Pathetic.

Before Fiona, I’d never wondered whether I was texting a woman too much. Hell, I’d rarely had enough to say to one for it to become a problem. Now I wanted to know stupid shit.

Did she sleep on her side?

Did she kick the blankets off?

Did she wake up cheerful, or would she threaten murder until she’d had breakfast?

I wanted the important things too. Her plans. Her fears. The things she never said because she’d learned not to expect anyone to stay long enough to hear them. Every answer she gave me only made me want another.

That was the dangerous part. The darker side of me wanted all of her at once. Wanted to close the distance between us, put her on the back of my bike, and take her somewhere nobody could interfere.

Somewhere I wouldn’t have to share.

I knew exactly how that would go. Those silver eyes would lose every bit of warmth when she looked at me. Fuck that. Wanting her didn’t give me permission to take away her choices. If the La Croix curse had taught the men in my family anything, it should’ve been that knowing who you wanted and having her choose you were two different things.

I knew what my heart wanted.

Fiona was still figuring out hers.

So I sat my ass on the couch in Nebraska and behaved.

Mostly.

The thought of her eventually leaving Rosewood for college still did ugly things to my imagination. Some clean-cut college kid was going to notice her. Of course he would. He’d be close enough to ask her out without planning a cross-country trip first. Her brothers would probably like him just because he wasn’t me. I picked up my phone. Still nothing. The imaginary college boy was already getting on my nerves. Christ. I’d officially become jealous of a man who didn’t fucking exist.

The old Romeo would’ve laughed himself sick over this. The old Romeo also would’ve found somebody willing, scratched the itch, and forgotten her name before breakfast. I had no interest in doing that now. That probably should’ve terrified me more than it did. Instead, I opened Fiona’s text thread and reread the last few messages.