by Misti Murphy
But then the last year and a half have been hell. Between Alec attacking Ro, and Rebel going to prison I’ve been up in my head a lot more. And those times she saw me while I was visiting mom, I was probably wrecked from putting on a brave front and trying to keep everyone else’s spirits up, or just plain exhausted from trying to stay connected with a person who struggles to be tethered to reality at all.
People think because I can laugh at almost anything and make jokes about painful subjects that I don’t feel them as hard as they do. The truth is I just mask them differently.
A little like Ivy does with her costumes. Maybe that’s part of why I’m so drawn to her. Any other girl and I don’t think we would be sitting side by side in my Jeep, listening to some pop song just because it was the first song that came into her head. Any other girl and I wouldn’t have chased her all over town, cuffed her to a bed, or confronted her when I found out who she really was. I’m not that guy. I’m the take it or leave it and move on guy. The don’t get serious guy. And yet here I am with Ivy, breaking my rules. Feeling a connection. Dragging her terrified ass home to meet my family.
“I don’t think I can do this.” Her hands are clasped together in her lap so tightly her fingertips have turned white. “Rogue, I really don’t think I can do this.”
“It’s going to be okay.” I reach over and take one of her hands in mine. I thread our fingers together and squeeze before I lay them on my thigh. I pull into the long driveway that leads up to the house. The three story concrete and glass Maddox headquarters catches the sun and reflects it back.
She shakes her head. Stares at me like someone tortured her puppy. “I can’t.”
Gravel crunches under the tires. My chest tightens. It’s pretty much not negotiable that she meets my family. “We talked about this.”
When Adira got back from his fifteen-minutes-on-the-dot coffee run with Ben in tow I’d asked Ivy to accompany me to visit my brothers. It should feel too soon to introduce her to my family. After all, I’ve only just found out the identity of the girl who I’ve thought about nonstop for weeks.
But I’m ready. And not just because Rebel needs to meet her to put his mind at ease, which I’m sure is what will happen when he gets to know her a little. But because that fucker needs to know I was right all along.
“I know.” Her chest starts to rise and fall in fast, jerky motions. “But—”
“You agreed,” I remind her gently. “My family has concerns, but that’s because they don’t know you yet. Up until today they thought you were an hallucination.”
“And now they think I’m an awful person. Probably some psycho with stalker tendencies who is obsessed with you.” Her breathing is choppy and she’s practically shaking. “I’m not in costume. What if I can’t talk to them? What if I open my mouth and nothing comes out? What if they hate me? Oh my God, they’re going to hate me.”
I pull the vehicle to a stop near the house. I don’t bother parking in the garage since we won’t be staying longer than necessary. I slide my seat back as far as it will go. Unlatch her seatbelt and pull her over my lap until she’s straddling me. With both hands I cup her face. “Just breathe, baby.”
“I shouldn’t be here.” She plucks at my shirt, her fingers moving fast and rigid as her gaze darts everywhere. The bruising around her eyes makes her appear even more forlorn. “This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea.”
“It’s okay if you can’t talk to them,” I say. Her shyness isn’t just going to go away, but in time hopefully it will lessen, like it has with me. “It’s okay that you don’t have your armor on.”
“You don’t understand,” she says. “You don’t know—"
“It’s okay if they don’t like you to begin with.” I can’t say I know what it’s like to have a panic attack, but I’m pretty sure that’s what is happening here.
“What?” Her eyes snap to mine.
“I like you,” I say. “And you like me, right?”
“Y-yes.”
My mouth curves up on one side. She’s not panicking quite as hard. If I can make her smile I’m going for it. “Wanna try that with a little more conviction?”
Her brow puckers and she sucks her lips in. Takes a deep breath that pushes her tits up in a way that makes me want to kiss them. “Yes.”
“I’m not quite feeling it.” I press my lips to her neck. To her jaw. To her earlobe. “Yell it like you would if I were tonguing your pussy.”
“Rogue, that’s not—”
“Fair?” I slip my fingers between us and roll the pad of one over her panties. Like a divining rod, my fingertip finds the growing dampness underneath it.
“Yes,” she hisses. “Or funny.”
“But now you want my tongue in your cunt, don’t you?”
She whimpers as I slip her panties to the side and saw my finger back and forth through her folds. “Rogue, we’re in your brother’s driveway.”
“Do you like me, Ivy?”
“You know I do.” She wraps her arms around my head as I pulse the tip of my finger in and out of her entrance. “Oh God, how do you do that?”
“Yes, Rogue, how do you do that?” Riot’s chuckle burrows into my skull.
Ivy screams and clings to me tighter.
I grimace. “Ouch.”
“S-sorry,” she can barely get the word out and her chocolate orbs go round. Her face turns the color of beets. All the progress I’d been making, getting her focus off her panicking, is completely tanked.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m only temporarily deafened.” I deftly maneuver my hand to safer ground and glare at Riot in the hopes that he’ll figure out I don’t want him to say anything stupid, and then I turn my attention solely to Ivy. This situation is probably a hundred times worse for her now than it was before I tried to distract her. “This is Riot. My younger brother.”
“I-I…” she presses her lips together while her eyes plead with me to fill the awkward silence.
Riot gets in first. He snakes an arm forward between our faces. He’s wearing board shorts, no shirt, no shoes. His dark locks drip water on me. “You must be the Uma Cookie. Where’s your crown, princess?”
“Don’t be a dick,” I snap at him.
His eyes widen and his brows thicken. “I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Can’t you see she’s shy,” I mutter.
“I’m Ivy,” she announces. “I-I’m Ivy. Ivy Love.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ivy Love.” Riot shakes her hand when she slips it into his. “Don’t worry, we’re not all grumpy motherfuckers. Well, I’m not at any rate. How about we go inside and meet the others? Summer is dying to meet you.”
“Summer?” Ivy climbs off my lap when Riot opens the door.
“Our soon to be sister-in-law,” he says. “Although Rebel hasn’t asked her yet, but he will. It’s just a matter of time. She’s the only girl who is willing to put up with us full-time.”
“More like keep us in line.” I close the truck door behind me.
“That too.” Riot grins as he leads her away like he’s a damn pied piper. Dude has some serious chi. He doesn’t even ask her about her nose. Thank God.
Casa Maddox is quiet and empty inside. Voices seep in from outside like they’re far away. The huge metal fans hanging from the deck ceiling whir lazily. Water splashes onto the tiles surrounding the pool. Someone makes a sarcastic remark. I don’t catch it, but the tone is unmistakable.
Summer walks out of the office with her phone attached to her ear. “If you could keep me apprised, that would be great.”
She stops when she spots us. Adjusts the rope strap of her black and gold bikini as she studies Ivy with a little too much wonder.
“Mmhmm. I think we best be prepared for anything. Okay. Talk to you soon.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as she hangs up.
“Oh.” She flutters a hand over her shoulder as if to say leave it alone. “Doesn’t matter. Not when you’ve brought a guest. I’m Summer
Heart. I’m the boys’ publicist. And Rebel’s my partner.”
“This.” Riot wraps an arm around Ivy’s shoulder. “Is Uma Cookie, or, to her friends, Ivy Love.”
“Ivy Love?” Summer’s green eyes twinkle with mischievous intent.
Yes, Love. That is what he said. Yes, this girl has my chest glowing like a fucking Care Bear. Yes, I’m feeling weirdly possessive. Yes, I get the freaking irony of me finding myself in this position with a girl whose last name is Love.
“I’m so sorry for any confusion,” Ivy starts. “I really didn’t mean to upset anyone.”
“You haven’t upset anyone,” I grouch as I push Riot’s arm off her and tug her toward me. “I think I hear them calling your name, out by the pool.”
“Uh, yeah.” He drags a hand through his still damp hair. “If I don’t see you out there, it was nice meeting you, Ivy.”
“You.” Summer turns her attention on me. “Go and join the others. Ivy and I are going to get acquainted.”
I keep Ivy in my arms. “I’m going to stay.”
“Actually, I’m okay,” Ivy smiles up at me. The tension that was written in every muscle has started to dissipate.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She presses her hand to my chest and pushes me playfully until I give an inch.
“I promise she’ll be fine,” Summer says. “Now go.”
“Fine.” I head toward the huge sliding panels Riot exited through.
“Rebel is waiting for you to crow,” Summer adds. “But probably…don’t do it today.”
“How come?” My curiosity piqued, I scan the scene outside. My brothers and Ro are hanging out in the pool.
“You’ll see,” Summer says as she loops her arm around Ivy’s and leads her toward one of the guest bedrooms. “I don’t suppose you’re wearing swimwear, are you? No? We’ll have to see what we can come up with.”
I step out onto the deck and almost fall over my jaw as Marty Kendall swans toward me in denim shorts, a cropped white halter, and a flowing silk jacket. Shades over her eyes and a beer in hand Marty looks like she always has, effortlessly classy and hip. She holds out the dark green bottle of Beck’s. “Rogue, it’s good to see you.”
I want to tell her that I can’t say the same as I take the proffered beverage. I catch myself clamping my teeth together and make a concentrated effort to loosen up. Marty might be the hottest thing in celebrity journalism and we might need her help, but she’s still the woman who broke my brother and betrayed us for her career. That shit cut. Deep.
With a terse nod I take a swig from the opened bottle. “Marty. Long time, huh? Were you waiting to ambush me?”
“Kind of. Did I see you with a date?” She glances over my shoulder. “Does Rogue Maddox have a girlfriend?”
“No comment.” I swig at the bitter brew.
“Who is she?”
Marty is practically gagging for a story, and she’s going to get one, but Ivy is not going to end up on her radar. “No. Fucking. Comment.”
“Okay. That’s fair,” she says.
“If you don’t mind.” I make to move around her.
She stops me with a hand on my bicep. She looks a little cowed. “I know this isn’t the time or place. Or even why I’m here, but I wanted to apologize to you for how things ended.”
“I think you’re confusing me with my brother.” I don’t need her apology. I certainly don’t want to hear it. “The guy you tore apart for your career is over there.”
“No, I know. But we were family too.” She glances behind her at Rebel, who is sitting on the edge of the pool with a beer in his hand and Riot who is sitting on the underwater step with Ro between his legs. Something that might be regret passes over Marty’s face. “I could have handled things better.”
“Say no more.” Because I don’t want to hear it right now. I wink as though it doesn’t bother me that we trusted her and she aired all our fucking secrets for an office at Hollywood Juice with her name on the door. “It’s water under the bridge. Help Ro. Help my brother. And we’ll call it square.”
“Rogue, I…” She sighs and drops it, knowing out of the three of us Maddox men I’m the one who can carry a grudge the longest. “I’ll catch up with you next time.”
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” I mutter under my breath.
I stop at one of the wide loungers to empty my pockets and take off my socks and shoes and shirt before I join Rebel on the edge of the pool. All my excitement about finally being able to gloat over Uma Cookie being real—and not only that but here—waned with Marty’s presence. The water lapping at my ankles takes a little of the heat out of my attitude though.
I clap a hand on the back of Rebel’s neck and squeeze while I swig from my beer. “How long has she been here?”
“Little over an hour,” he says, observing our youngest brother and Ro as they chill in the pool, sticking to each other like Velcro. Whatever quiet conversation they’re having is impossible to eavesdrop on. “It’s been draining. Especially for Ro. So many details. She thinks she was drugged. She has flashbacks, but no solid memory of the ordeal. Did you know she had a fractured fucking pelvis? Hairline fracture, but still…he fucking brutalized her.”
His hands turn to fists at his side before he scrubs one over his face. I can tell he wants to fucking scream. We all have our own version of events. Each one of us has a different angle on that night. Riot and I watched our brother lose his shit and beat Alec Hawthorne into a hospital bed. Rebel saw a woman who we’ve all come to adore being assaulted, and he snapped. But Ro had it happen to her. And she’s kept that shit locked up tight until now.
“Fuck,” I say. Really, what else is there to say? We knew it was bad. We knew telling her story would be hard. All we can do is protect her and support her. And hire a fucking hit man to take out Hollywood’s golden dickwad.
“Yeah.” He pushes out a breath. “We finished up about fifteen minutes ago. But even Marty was feeling wrecked by the end of it, so I suggested we have a beer and a dip in the pool. Marty might have some questions for you though. I know she stuck around because she wanted to see you.”
“I saw her on her way out.” I shrug. She didn’t ask any questions other than wanting to know about Ivy, but I’m sure if she wants more she’ll corner me at some point.
“I’m not going to say I forgive her,” he says. “But she does have the professional integrity to take this story where we want it. That has to count for something.”
“Sure. It counts.” I whirlpool the rest of my beer and stand. “Want another one?”
“Yeah.” He climbs to his feet. “I invited the rest of the crew over for a cookout too. Are you going to stick around? Or do you have other plans?”
I grin from ear to ear when I see Ivy and Summer have finally made it outside. Ivy fidgets with one of those long, dark strands of her hair as she smiles at me. Summer has dug up a pastel pink string bikini that they’ve managed to tie off tight enough to fit Ivy. My gaze glides along her creamy skin. Curves I’ve touched and tasted and am obsessed with. So much more so now that I’ve seen her as she is.
I want to wrap Ivy in my arms and make sure Summer didn’t grill her too hard, but by their matching smiles and the movements of their lips it seems like Summer might be exactly the ice breaker my shy girl needed.
Ivy’s attention flits to my brother and she almost jumps out of her skin. It makes the hackles on the back of my neck rise. I hate the idea that she might have bought into the media stories about him and that it scares her. I’m going to talk with her about it sooner rather than later. She has nothing to fear but his brashness.
Summer says something and hands Ivy a bottle of water. Did she tell Summer she was too young to drink? Or is she too scared to let down her defenses?
“I’m not sure if we’ll stay.” I nudge my twin in the ribs. “It depends on my imaginary girlfriend.”
“Uma Cookie?” Rebel narrows his steely gaze at her.
“Ivy,” I say. “And also Uma. There’s a whole drag queen explanation.”
“Ivy is a queen?” He sounds confused as he studies her.
“Eyes up.” I growl. Shit, I can hear it. That territorial vibe he gets, only coming from my throat. “Ivy is a princess. Her best friend Adira, now he’s the queen.”
“I don’t—”
“She creates costumes and helps with makeup at the Mojito Bar. She’s been part of the scene since she was fifteen.” She’d filled me in a little that night we spent in the park. How when Adira had come out about his sexuality and desire to be a drag queen to his parents, they’d basically disowned him. At which point her dad had given him a roof over his head and the support to get his show off the ground. Adira’s friends had adopted her as one of their own. Taught her how to do her makeup and how to sew and design costumes.
She’d filled me in a little more on the drive here. Explained how when she got out of Sunny she wasn’t ready to go back to her old life. Against her mom’s wishes she’d decided not to go home but moved in with Adira—who also happens to be her cousin—instead. She’d started working with Adira, then the queens that work at the Mojito Bar had put her in charge of costume maintenance. The birthday party gig had come about because Dr. Keller had wanted her to stretch herself in an attempt to come out of her shell more. Even if that was still in the full armor of her costumes. And she’d done all this while studying for her business degree as well.
It sounds like her family is the mafia with the way she reacted when I asked her about them. She’d turned so pale I’d let the subject drop. She’s unfurling slowly, and I’m just here for the ride. Although, connections to the mob could come in handy if we decide to hire a hit man to deal with Hawthorne.
“So she’s a female queen?” Rebel asks.
“Nope. Couldn’t get her to perform for all the love and money in Hollywood,” I say. “They just dubbed her with a name for her alter ego. You know, like Beyonce has Sasha Fierce. It helps with her shyness.”
“And now you’re dating her?”
“That is the intention.”
“She’s probably playing you. You can’t trust her. You know that, right?”