“That’s the only thing he didright,” Poison snapped, turning back toward her. “Only it was two years too late. Why should I trust him now? When he only just now grew a pair of balls?”
“Well, leaving his balls out of this conversation,” Rose started hesitantly, “technically, our deal was to keep each other’s identity. By telling you mine, it could be argued that I have every right to tell you his.”
Poison sat up straighter, her interest perked, but then she sagged in disappointment. “But you’re not going to, are you? I mean, he told me his name, but there’s obviously more to it than that.”
Rose shook her head at Poison’s question. “He’s here, you know. Outside. He followed you in. Ghost had to tell Scar not to kill him for hurting you.”
Poison made a face. “I don’t want him dead.” Then added, “But if anyone is going to get to kick the crap out of him, it’s going to be me.”
“How about you start with talking to him,” Rose suggested, “and see how that goes?”
“Couldn’t you just tell me and I can make a decision off that? I’ll babysit for, like, two hours so you can get your nerdy rocks off, and I won’t even teach the kid how to shiv anyone,” Poison tried to bargain.
Rose stared horrified at her sister. “You areneverbabysitting Oscar without adult supervision.” She completely ignored Poison’s attempt to conceal her celebration at this proclamation. Instead, she brought them back to the topic at hand. “Go talk to Kitty. You can’t forgive him until you know everything.”
Looking like a teenager forced to go clean her room, Poison got up, shoulders hunched, and practically stomped her way out of the clubhouse.
* **
Keys estimatedhe had forty-plus band-aids on him by the time Rose turned her attention back on him and Oscar. Letting out a long,longbreath, Rose slumped back into the cushion of the couch, and then slid over until her head was on Keys’ shoulder. He leaned his head over on top of hers.
“How bad are you hurting? I still think you should take up Bear’s offer to go to the hospital.”
Keys didn’t shrug, because honestly he didn’t have the energy to move. “On a scale of one to ten? Six. Maybe six and a half. Your sister doesnotpull her punches.”
“I know,” Rose begrudgingly admitted. After keeping his glasses safe for him, she’d set them on the end table by the couch so he could ice his face. He still hadn’t reached for them, even though, the band-aids from Oscar had more of a healing effect than that bag of peas did.
“I’m mad at you,” she murmured.
Keys’ eyebrows shot up, which made his entire face freeze in pain. “Ouch! Crap! For what?”
“Where does it hurt, Keys?” Oscar frantically asked. Then added a band-aid to Keys’ nostrils before Keys could respond that he was fine.
“For not fighting back,” Rose answered without moving. “You just stood there and took it. I don’t know if you thought you were being chivalrous, or got some twisted idea in your head that by turning yourself into a living punching bag you would earn her respect,” her hand slapped down gently on his thigh, “but don’t ever do that again.”
“I didn’t do it for her or for you,” Keys told her honestly. “I did it for me, to take responsibility for my actions.”
Rose let out a moan, likely picking up on the fact that he’d mirrored a similar argument she’d presented to Poison not too long ago. “What a pair we make.”
Keys smiled, tired and aching, but completely content. “What a pair indeed.”
He started to drift off until the four year old on his lap suddenly shouted. “Oh no! I’m out of band-aids!” Scrambling off Keys’ lap, Oscar ordered in a stern voice. “Don’t die! I’m going to go get more!”
Rose snorted as her son ran off. Keys just shook his head and closed his eyes again.
* * *
“What’s in a name?”Shakespeare had asked. It seemed so trivial a question, the importance of a name. On one side of the scale, it was your identity, a connection to your family and blood. On the other scale, it was simply a word. Letters put together to form sounds that trigger a memory or an image. People name their children like they name their pets, and for someone like Kitty, they were shed just as easily.
The storm clouds overhead did not deter him as he waited against Poison’s bike. He’d sold his, never planning on riding separately from her again. From the moment they bumped into each other in that Vermont mansion, Kitty hadn’t cared about his name. He hadn’t cared about his identity or his family. Because he’d found her. Possibly the most stubborn woman on the planet, but she was pure. No masks, no fakes, no lies… Ivy Benson was exactly who she portrayed herself to be, and fucking hell, did he love that.
He didn’t move as she came through the clubhouse doors. That was until he saw her bloody fists, and his eyes narrowed. Poor Keys, but the kid had it coming in Kitty’s opinion. Knowing where Rose was all this time and saying diddly squat? No, beyond that—he’d openly acted like he didn’t, even going as far as to yell at Poison for “losing MV”.
Yeah, Kitty owed the kid a punch or two as well.
Poison stopped right in front of him, crossing her arms over her lovely tits. But now was not the time to get distracted by her body. Itmightbe the place, depending on how this conversation went. But then these VDMC people did like to pop out kids continuously. Shit, Kitty supposed finding someplace more private than the club’s parking lot would be more appropriate. Or at least, less rude.
“Rurik,” she said shortly.
