Page 78 of The Rogues

“Would you like to sit?” I ask her, gesturing toward the couch.

She’s frazzled, avoiding my eyes as she curls her nails in a repetitive motion before nodding. “Thank you.”

Her scent is subdued, but still just as glorious. It hits me right in the chest, just as hard as it did in that hallway in Silver Records. The memory flashes through my mind. Her eyes were red and swollen, her scent muddled by stress and anxiety, but when she looked at me, it had bloomed. My sudden presence had frightened her, sure, but it had also taken away whatever she had been thinking about before, whatever was burdening her.

I scoot a little bit closer, close enough that our legs touch, and that same response happens. Her perfume spills out, lighter than before, less charged. She looks up at me finally, inhaling and letting her eyes close with a sigh.

“I know I looked like a twat earlier, with Flo at the venue,” I start. “I’m sorry about that, but my sister is… She’s trusting and sensitive. Watching her constantly people-please has made me a bit overprotective throughout the years.”

She nods, taking in my words. “I think you don’t give her enough credit.”

I chuckle under my breath. “That’s probably true. I haven’t seen her in a few years, especially since I came to America. So I probably don’t know how she is anymore, actually.”

She nods, still in her head. Her fingers aren’t fiddling anymore, though, which I count as a win.

“She told me what you did for her,” I confess.

“She did?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “I probably don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to the way you reacted earlier tonight, then. I was the same. I went a little bit crazy.”

“So I heard.” A big smile falls over my face. “I would have done the same thing. I appreciate you protecting her even if she was strong enough to handle it on her own.”

There’s another pause before she asks, “Why haven’t you seen her in a few years?”

I knew it was coming, but I’m still nervous to respond. Everything about my past life is where I want it to be: in the past. Bringing it up now, reliving it, feels like I’d be cutting myself open in places that have healed over. Exposed. Raw.

But Josie is slowly working towards being a member of my pack, one that I hold dear and wish to cherish. Our relationship is finally heading in the right direction, and I know being honest is the best way to keep it going smoothly.

“Growing up privileged is nice. I didn’t want for anything. But the lifestyle, the way of being an heir was just bloody awful. My parents had expectations for me, ways they wanted me to behave and act. It didn’t help that they were complete arseholes about it. Every day felt like waking up in a prison… until I met my pack, of course.

“Our estate was private and pretty far away from the place in Bristol where my pack lived. I met them by chance one day, when my mother took me to the local community center to sign off on a donation they made. They were all goofing around. Just a bunch of kids with nothing to do on a summer’s day, but it all led us to the same place. We were inseparable from that moment on.

“My parents hated them, but we were pack. I knew it in my bones, knew that it would click in once we all designated. But we were teenage boys, and we were rowdy, and my father was volatile. He tried everything to wrangle me back into my cage, but I rebelled against him at every turn. They were worried about what this meant for their legacy, how I could handle the responsibility of it if I didn’t act the part, but I had no intention of doing so. I just had to wait until it was time to leave, and at the first opportunity, I did.”

“And that’s why Florence is now the heir to your family’s estate.”

I nod. “That’s my only regret, is leaving Flo with all the responsibility. She now has those same expectations on her shoulders, which is why I’m extra protective of her. We still talk all the time, so I know what she goes through at home with our parents. I also know it’s probably worse because she’s dealing with the aftermath of my actions. As much as I’m glad to have the life I do, I know it comes from making this selfish decision, one that she now has to live with the consequences of.”

“Wow,” Josie says as she looks blankly at the ground.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot. I should have told you about it sooner, but⁠—”

“No, that’s not why I’m surprised,” she says, cutting me off. “The way you just described your childhood… it feels eerily similar to mine.”

That has me arching a brow. “What? How?”

“My father is a congressman,” she starts, which has me turning my body further. My heart starts to beat wildly in my chest at her statement, curiosity bleeding within the divots.

“He and my mother only ever cared about his political career. We were in the public eye. They’re conservative. My whole life, they were trying to paint a specific picture of our family so things matched up with their belief structures, which are shit by the way.”

I nod, imagining just how traditional they must be if my own example is anything to go by.

“I had nannies who only ever called me Miss Rosewood because my mother told them to stop getting close to me. She fired anyone I had a close relationship with until one day, they all stopped trying. She wanted me to be this pretty doll that she could dress up; one that was quiet, respectable, and never had an opinion of her own. It was suffocating.”

“I’m so sorry, Josie,” I tell her. I move to hold her hand; she gives it an appreciative squeeze and smiles softly.