by Belle Brooks
He approaches me slowly.
“I’m awfully sorry. I should have told you I was stepping out.”
“Have you been crying?” Slade’s jaw is tensed, and his body stiff.
“No,” I lie.
“What were you thinking, being out here in such a way? Where are your shoes?”
“I’m not feeling very well.”
“Where are your shoes?”
“I took them off. They are on the ground somewhere.”
“Roselette, you need to stop acting like a child and gather yourself. Headaches, tiredness, feeling under the weather … these excuses I’ve quite frankly had enough of hearing.”
“I know.” I try to discreetly slip my phone into the clutch I’m gripping onto, but misjudge the distance and gasp as it thuds to the ground between our feet.
“Were you talking to someone?”
“No,” I’m quick to refute.
Slade lowers to his knees, keeping his eyes turned upwards to mine.
“I … I ...”
“Bullshit,” he barks, standing once more, holding my phone.
“Please give me my phone.” I reach out my arm.
His laugh is filled with an air of sarcasm as his thumb brushes across the screen. “So, who were you were speaking to, Roselette?”
“Nobody.” I’m panicking.
Slade has been more possessive, even jealous of late.
“I don’t believe you. You know what, Roselette? I never thought I’d have to doubt your honesty like I am.”
“Slade, please.” I outstretch my hand and place it against his upper arm.
He jerks his body away.
“Finlay!” he spits. “Your call registry doesn’t lie, Roselette. That Crossley guy from next door, really?”
“There’s … there’s … nothing … I’ve nothing to …” I’m stuttering.
Slade shakes his head as he throws the phone against the turf. “You will never speak to him again, you understand?”
“Yes.” I’m shaking.
Clasping my wrist with a tight grip, Slade says, “You’re marrying me. You will not embarrass me any further with these silly games. You need to go back inside and act like my fucking fiancée. Smile. Pay attention to what people are saying instead of going off into some dreamland in your head.”
“I will.” I try desperately to hold in my tears.
Bringing his cheek to mine, Slade whispers, “You need to learn your place, and you need to mature into a lady who is deserving to be with a man like me. You will do as you’re told.”
“I will,” I cry out. “Please let me go. You’re hurting me.”
He launches his head backwards and yells, “And you’re not hurting me? First you run out of my condo, and now this. What has you acting so delirious? Well?”
“I’m so sorry.” It seems the only answer he could be searching for in this situation. “Please, can you let go of my wrist? It’s really hurting.”
He doesn’t. He collects my other wrist in a similar hold, and with his control, my clutch falls free from my grasp.
“Please, Slade.”
He squeezes excessively. “Get inside. Do it now!” he bellows, throwing my arms down towards my thighs.
Bobbing my head, I stumble towards the clubhouse until I stop with my back toward Slade.
“I have your shit. I found your fucking shoes too. Move.” He’s beyond mad, and the way he’s shouting tells me so.
Panic scatters like an interrupted ants’ nest through my veins. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m scared.
“Roselette, I won’t tell you again. MOVE!”
He’s drawing closer. I can sense his presence, yet I stay frozen.
“No.” I barely roll this single word from my tongue.
Suddenly, I’m turned with force at his hand. “What did you just say to me?”
“I can’t go in there.”
His glare is ice-cold, and as he holds my face either side of my jaw, I pant with worry. “Get inside.” Spittle lands against my lips.
“No.” It’s barely audible.
“Let her fucking go.” It’s a loud booming instruction coming from behind us. “Slade, I swear if you don’t let her go—”
“What? You’ll do what?” Slade yanks my head as he releases his hold before twisting on his heel. “What, Finlay?”
“I’ll beat the living daylights out of you, you arsehole.” Finlay’s chest is puffed out as he marches towards Slade.
“Who? You and your four-man army? It’s laughable, really. You’re nothing short of a joke, Finlay. Go back to the trash heap you came from.”
“Let’s see you say this when I break your jaw.”
“Stop!” I shout.
“Shut up, Roselette.” Slade drops my belongings and throws his arms into the air.
“Don’t speak to her like that. Who the hell do you think you are, you rich prick?” Finlay is only a fist throw away from Slade, and my heart skips an entire beat before it tries to leap out of my mouth.
“Go on, hit me, Finlay. Prison is where you belong anyway,” Slade taunts him.
Watching Finlay lift his fists into the air, I scream, “Stop!” once more.
“There are plenty of honest witnesses who’ve come out to watch, Finlay, so go ahead and hit me, you arsehole.” Slade presses his chest forwards.
“Tank, don’t do it. He’s not worth a stint in the joint.” The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it or see which direction it is coming from.
“Son, walk away.”
George is also here. Where?
“Mr Crossley, you’ve outstayed your welcome. Take the company you’ve brought with you and remove yourself from this property, you hear me, son?”
There’s murder scripted to Finlay’s face. I’m scared he’s hearing not a word of what’s being said, so I rush forwards and latch onto his bicep. “Please,” I whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere, Roselette,” Slade commands with a forceful tone.
“Fin, please, let’s leave. Please, can we just leave?” I hope my gentle approach will make him see sense. I can’t be the reason he is jailed.
Finlay says not a word. He instead places his hand on top of mine before taking it in his hold and turning us away from Slade.
The eyes of many onlookers, people my family have called friends for years, bear shocked expressions that take my breath away.
My father is going to kill me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finlay
Blocker, Sailor, Rance, and Tardo see to Rose’s safe exit from the country club, and I watch on as they help her into the limousine Tardo drove us in. Thank fuck one of the boys hadn’t been drinking tonight.
I pace the length of the car. I need to calm down, but the thought of punching Slade’s face through the back of his head consumes me. Fucking arsehole. Why did Rose go back to him in the first place? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s a monster.
“Come on, Tank. Get in.” I glance at Rance, who comes to stand by my side. “Rose needs you.”
“Right,” I say.
“Let it go, mate.”
“Yep.”
Rose is not only crying, but trembling when I climb into the back seat and sit beside her. Sailor and Blocker sit across from us. If it wasn’t for Blocker chiming in and making me see sense, I fear I would have killed Slade.
“You good, mate?” Blocker stares into my eyes.
“Yeah.” I puff out my cheeks, exasperated.
“You did the right thing,” Sailor confirms.
“You did,” Rose sobs.
Turning my attention to the window, I stare at the traffic lights as the car races past, and wonder if Rose can really be helped. No doubt come morning, he’ll have apologised and she’ll be right back in his arms. Mr Horton is not a man you mess with, and he’s going to be on the war path the moment he finds out I was involved tonight.
I don’t have to wait long to find out what the r
epercussions are, because as Tardo circles the garden in the centre of my driveway, I see Horton standing in wait.
“Rose.” I flick my sight in her direction.
“I’ll take care of it.” She wipes the moisture away from under each eye.
“I think you should stay in the car,” Blocker rushes.
“No. It won’t help. Thank you for coming … I appreciate it very much, Fin. Thank you to all of you for your assistances.” Rose turns her attention to Sailor and Blocker, offering them a half-smile. “Stay in the car until my father and I are gone, Fin, please.” Rose gently places her hand to my arm.
“I think I should come out there with you.” My eyes plead for her to allow me.
“It’s kind of you to offer, but this is my mess. Can I see you tomorrow at eight? The waterfall?”
“Okay,” I say softly. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” The corners of her lips tug upwards. “Goodnight, Finlay.”
Pushing the door open is the hardest thing I think I’ve had to do tonight. I’m dubious Rose will be okay, but I want to respect her wishes, even if I think she’s making the wrong decision.
Rose doesn’t walk towards her father after she scrambles past me and exits the car. Instead, she marches in the opposite direction, and her father is in pursuit within seconds. Dropping my head into my hands, I can only hope letting her go was the right thing to do.
“What do you want to do now?” Sailor asks.
Arching my neck until my head stays upright, I reply, “Mate, I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Good idea,” he says.
“Tardo, you’re good to get these fellows home?” I need some space.
“Not a problem, Tank. I’ll leave the limo at the shop … No way I’m taking this into the pits of hell … and I’ll pick up my dirt bike from there.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at work then?”
“We’ll be there,” Rance says.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t do anything dumb.” Blocker waits until I’m halfway out the door before he says this.
“Yep,” I respond, waving them off.
I can’t stop looking in the direction of the Hortons’ house on the short walk to my front door. What the fuck happened tonight?
Tessa and Lesley are sitting on the back deck deep in conversation when I come to join them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tessa wears an expression of concern.
“Nope,” I huff as I fall into a third chair. “Where’s Alan?”
“Studying, believe it or not. Also, I heard him on the phone before.” Tessa smiles.
“And?” Why is she smiling about him taking a call?
“He was talking with a girl.”
“So …What does this have to do with the price of eggs in China?”
“I picked up the other handset. He wasn’t on his mobile—he used the land line, and I might have been listening in.”
“Why wasn’t he on his mobile?”
“How am I to know?”
I shrug.
“It was a good thing he wasn’t. I’m well-practised in this art, Fin. I used to do this to you all the time when you were a teenager. I learnt quickly I needed to stay one step in front of you if I was going to keep you on the straight and narrow, and out of trouble.”
“Well, shit, hey.” I half-chuckle before perching my head on my thumb, my elbow digging into my thigh.
“I think we’re going to really help Alan.” Tessa’s tone speaks of her relief.
“He’s going to do good. I know he will.” Am I reassuring myself or speaking with honesty?
“So, who is this Rose you went sprinting off after? What’s her deal?” Lesley lifts her eyebrows high on her forehead when I come to look at her.
“A troubled girl,” Tessa answers.
“Really?”
“She’s not troubled,” I mumble.
“A girl calls at night in a distressed state—I can see why Tessa thinks she’s troubled.” Seems Lesley is on Team Tessa. No surprises there.
“Let it go. Nothing to report here.”
It’s a warning for them to back off, and they do until Tessa says, “You’re in trouble because of her, aren’t you?” Tessa scowls.
“Nope. I held my temper. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Good.” She seems unsure I’m giving her the full story, and she should be, because I’m not and I’m not planning to.
“So, when are you heading off on this new adventure with this new purchase of yours, Lesley?” I need to change the direction of conversation.
“On the most beautiful yacht to ever sail the seas? In the morning. I told you this earlier, Tank.”
“Yeah. True, you did.” Shaking my head, I stand upright. “I might call it a night. I’m tired.”
“I should get going anyways. It’s getting pretty late.” Lesley’s arms wrap around my waist when she comes to stand in front of me. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’ll never be able to thank you.”
“You have plenty, and you’re welcome. Come back in one piece, okay? And enjoy your trip around the world.”
“I will, and I will. I have crew members, remember? I’m not doing this alone.”
“I’m happy for you, Lesley.”
Releasing her hold has Lesley batting gently against my chest. “You’re losing it, man. It was great to see you. I just don’t know how I can really thank you.”
“You said thank you—it was more than I needed.”
She beams before she blows me a kiss. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a person do this to me, apart from Tessa when I was younger.
She turns to Tessa. “Tessa, it was lovely to meet you. Also, thank you for the stories about Tank … I look forward to using them to blackmail him.” Lesley bends slightly, kissing Tessa’s cheek. This surprises me, because Tessa is not a fan of goodbyes or kisses.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offer.
“Excellent. If I don’t see you again, Tessa …”
“I know.” Tess smiles. “Take care, dear.”
“I will.” A gentle pat to Tessa’s shoulder in departure is how Lesley leaves the deck.
“I really like your foster mum, Tank.”
“She told you she’s my foster mother?”
“Yeah. We had time to kill.”
“Hey, I’m sorry I took off …”
“Don’t be. With what you’ve given me, and from what Tessa told me tonight, I know why you had to leave. You’ve a big, caring heart, Tank.”
“It’s a façade.” I chuckle.
“No. It’s not. You’ve been through more than any child, teenager, and person should. I’m surprised you’re not a wreck.” And there’s the look, the one I’m given if anyone hears my story. It’s pure pity.
“Stop talking, will you? You never shut up.”
“So you’ve told me.” Lesley giggles as I open the front door for her final goodbye, not only to me but to this town. Even on tiptoes she can’t reach my cheek with her lips. “Do I need to get a stool?”
“No.” I hunch down.
“Good luck, Tank. I’ll see you next year,” she whispers in my ear before kissing my cheek.
A flash of her smile appears from over her shoulder before Lesley runs the distance to a car—and without another glance, she climbs in.
It seems I’ve managed to give Lesley her dream, but here I am with everything, and yet there is still an emptiness inside me. Am I barking up the wrong tree chasing after somebody like Rose? Maybe I should have given Lesley my number at the hospital, or even today. Apart from a massive difference in our height ratio, Lesley and I seem to be well suited. Maybe Lesley is the type of girl who will keep me happy long after I’m of any value to anyone.
Loving Rose is only going to end in heartbreak. Mine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rose
The door slams hard behind me. I can feel my father hot on
my heels. He needs to keep his nose out of my business and out of my love life. It’s not his to control.
“What’s going on?” My mother comes rushing towards me, barely missing a collision with the corner of the lounge chair in her haste. “Roselette, have you been crying, sweetheart?” Her hand rests against her lilac blouse. Her lips are pressed tight.
“She has made a complete fool of our family. How could you do this, Roselette?” My father bellows from behind me.
“I’m going to my room.” I stare at my mother with disgust even though from her parted lips and concerned expression it appears as though she’s not aware of what has happened.
“You are doing no such thing, young lady,” Dad shouts.
I twist fiercely and come face-to-face with my father. He’s the colour of tomato red, with small beads of sweat sitting against the skin on his forehead.
“You’ve made us the laughing stock of Hoffman. How could you?” The vein in my father’s neck protrudes, and with each beat of his erratic heart, I watch it pulse.
“What have you done, young lady?” My mother’s tone is harsh as she appears by my father’s side. Great! The woman has no clue what’s going on, yet she automatically sides with my father.
We stand in the formal guest lounge room, in a stand-off. Every part of me wills myself to evaporate, as water does from the heated sun. The fire in my father’s eyes is enough to dry me out instantly.
Clutching the back of a red velvet vintage day bed, I swallow hard.
“Roselette, answer me.”
I can’t bring myself to shift my vision to Mumma, because I’m fearful of the look of judgement I expect will be there.
“You have no defence. I thought as much,” Dad shouts.
Is there any point offering a defence? Will they even hear me?
“Tomorrow morning, you will offer your deepest and sincerest apologies to both Slade and George. You will hope for acceptance, and then you and Slade will go to New York as planned. It’s important the two of you get through whatever is causing you such upset. Roselette, to say I’m disappointed in—”
“He struck me. I told you, Daddy, he struck me. Slade told you he did it, too, and you think this is okay? How can you both think this is okay?” I yell.