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Lance’s chest clenched as Rosie’s words sent the past hurtling into the present. Ruining it.
“And they’re beautiful,” she continued, moving her gaze back to him. “You deserve that. In a perfect world. But we both know this world is ugly and cruel and unfair. I’ve seen enough of that. I’ve also seen enough damaged men and women defy the odds to give me hope for you. As much as I’m a hopeful romantic, I’m also a realist. I know there’s a possibility of this ending. I really frickin’ hope it doesn’t. I’m also here to tell you you need to figure out quick smart whether you’re gonna be here to build a fence in the front. Mow the fucking lawn. Take these two out of this shitty suburb into a beautiful house that we both know you can afford.”
Lance didn’t say anything about her not so subtly telling him she’d checked out his finances. It wasn’t invasive now he knew she’d ripped apart his past, showing it for the falsity it was and finding the real.
“You need to figure out if that’s gonna happen or if you’re gonna disappear like I’m sure you’ve already been planning on doing since the second I told you I knew your past,” Rosie said. “I’m not going to judge you for that. I get it. I really frickin’ get it. But I won’t get it if you fuck around here. If you be the coward I know you’re not and half-ass this shit, make them feel attached and then rip yourself out of their life. Make it end bad. Hurt them. Because as I said, they’re my family now. And no one hurts my family. As much as I like you and your quiet ruthless vibe, as much as my heart bleeds for the absolute shit life has given you, it’s not going to stop me from ripping your dick off if you needlessly hurt that woman or that little boy. Capisce?”
Lance knew that a lot of friends, fathers, brothers or children might give a version of ‘if you hurt my blank, you’ll be sorry.’ He also knew that almost all of them didn’t have it in them to follow through on the empty threat.
This was Rosie.
She had the follow-through.
She wasn’t just being metaphorical.
Though Lance was confident he could take almost any man on, kill them without thinking or guilt, he wasn’t sure he could do that with Rosie. Not just because she measured up about even with him in her skills to fight.
No, because he’d shared a beer with her husband. Watched her kid grow. Seen what she added to the good in the world and what she took away in the ugly.
He could hurt a lot of people without the trouble of his conscience. But he wouldn’t be able to do it with Rosie. Which meant she would be quite literally ripping his dick off if he hurt Elena and Nathan.
It didn’t matter. If he truly ever hurt the two single most precious things that had come into his life when he thought it was all but over, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself anyway.
Rosie was eyeing him as if she could read his thoughts. And though Lance didn’t believe in any of that bullshit that Polly spouted on the daily, he was a little shaken by the power of the woman’s gaze.
She was waiting for his affirmative, to make sure her words had sunk in, her threat had landed.
He nodded once.
She nodded back. Then the ruthless look dropped from her face quickly and seamlessly replaced by the beautiful smile that distracted most men.
It was jarring, chilling really. Because the warm smile and the threatening glint in her eyes were both genuine. She was able to be warm and kind and in the next breath snap your neck if she felt you deserved it.
Dangerous, that woman.
She reached over to squeeze his shoulder. He didn’t flinch from her touch, recoil from it. Something in him felt calmed. Comforted.
She left it there for a beat and then turned away, back toward the house.
Yeah, dangerous woman.
His eyes found hazel ones, staring at him across the yard.
Another dangerous woman.
One who could ruin him in even ways Rosie couldn’t.
So he ruined himself.
He ruined everything now, so he didn’t destroy their lives later.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elena
When a week passed of nothing, I went to Keltan. I knew that Greenstone was renting the place that Nathan and I were calling home, and according to my insurance company, would be for quite some time. Lance had declared he would “take care of it” whenever I tried to bring it up. I’d obviously tried to argue. He’d silenced me by kissing me. Or touching me. Or by being Lance.
He was not here to do any of those things.
I was going to be the one to take care of things from now on.
