Melancholy gripped her.
She would never have that. She couldn’t even have a conversation with her own sister without disguising her voice so she couldn’t be identified. When was the last time she’d had a meaningful, face-to-face conversation with an adult?
Oscar was such a well-behaved toddler. Based on the horror stories she’d read about the Terrible Twos, she’d really lucked out. She tried to limit his screen time as much as possible, though she wasn’t above using it when needed to occupy him when the club needed her full attention. He was so inquisitive, but the way he studied things was through quiet observation. Rose had even had to inquire online if it was “normal”, and discovered that quiet personalities were not uncommon. The loud personalities, obviously, just made the most noise.
Glancing around her monitor, Rose couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face as she saw her son play with his letters and numbers mat. It reminded her of theDance, Dance, Revolutiondance pad from the nineties. Her high school hadn’t been able to upgrade their field day games since before Poison had attended that same school a decade before Rose did, so she was familiar with some of the earlier models.
Oscar had his little redSpideyheadphones on and was completely engrossed in whatever game the mat was prompting him with. He might not speak often, only a word here or there, but he knew his ABCs and 123s. Rose was extremely proud.
Movement on the monitor in front of her caught her eye, and she saw a group of kids running down the cordoned off street. Vendor booths and businesses with open doors lined the sidewalks decorated with fall-themed garland running lamppost to lamppost.
When she’d first discovered her pregnancy, Rose had considered numerous paths. The father was going to prison for a long time, but what about the others who were looking for her? She couldn’t take ababyon the run with her. What sort of life did that offer him or her? The idea of an abortion was deplorable to her, but could she really risk the welfare and life of her child when she had no idea whatherwelfare and life would be in nine months? She’d booked the appointment, but standing outside that clinic, Rose knew she couldn’t do it. Some might argue for or against her decision, but in the end, it was no one’s business but her own.
She’d looked into adoption. Surely giving her child away was the best thing. To give him the life she couldn’t. But who could she trust him to? Her parents were dead, and there wasn’t a maternal bone in Poison’s body. Plus, hiding him with family would defeat the purpose. He’d be too easily found. She’d looked into adoption agencies, even considered looking for a family in Canada or England, but she couldn’t make up her mind.
And the moment Oscar had been handed to her, and she looked into her baby’s eyes and his little smooshed face and his coned head… Rose knew. There was no giving up her son. He was hers, and she would give him the best life she could.
Staring at the monitors, though, she wondered if that was the right choice. Oscar would never know the carefree life of running down the street at a town celebration with other kids hisage. Things were constantly changing for them. New car, new home, new surroundings. What would she do when it was time for him to go to school?
Needing to get her mind off things she couldn’t change or decisions that did not affect today, Rose searched for a distraction. The bachelor auction was down at the other end of the street, by where the pony rides and other activities were happening on the grassy lawn of the town center.
Even with the cold weather, a man stood up on the makeshift stage in a fireman’s uniform doing a strip tease. Talk about distractions. Rose’s eyebrows lifted, and she happily zoomed in to watch the show.
* * *
“Something you want to share?”
Keys winced. He’d been hoping to make a clean getaway after departing the stage, but of course, the universe wouldn’t let him. Trying to portray innocence, he turned on the balls of his feet and offered Cage a wide smile.
The six foot-four brother with muscles, tattoos, and a face like a Greek god. When Keys had first joined the club, Cage had been a total womanizer. He hadn’t just been sleeping with the Honeys, but also any hang-arounds or random hookups he met. A nineteen-year-old Keys had thought him the coolest, while also being extremely jealous of Cage’s seemingly effortless ability to talk a woman out of her pants.
Then it had come to light that Cage was sleeping around to mask the pain of being rejected by the woman he was in love with: Angel, theVia Daemonia’s only female member. It took a lot of trial and error, along with the heartbreak of a miscarriage, for the two of them to come together and find their happiness. And if Keys thought he was jealous of Cage when he’d been a womanizing scoundrel, it was nothing compared to when he saw thepure happiness on Cage’s face the first time Angel publicly claimed him.
“Nothing that I can think of,” Keys answered, attempting at innocence.
Cage snorted. “Don’t leave your day job, kid. Hollywood’s not calling your name with that piss-poor talent.”
Keys flushed, but dropped the act. “I’m just as surprised as you are about…” He waved his hand towards the stage he’d just exited. “Whatever that was.”
Cage approached him, his expression calculating. Like he was trying to decipher if Keys was lying or not. “Fifty thousand isn’t pocket change, kid. If you were going to fake out your own date, you probably should have gone with a lower amount.”
Keys’ cheeks went from pink to flaming red. “I didn’t do that!” he insisted again. “That wasn’t me!”
He knew exactly who it was, too. But how could he possibly explain his relationship with Glitch to Cage or the club? Hell, he couldn’t even explain it to himself. They were friends, sure, but there were so many secrets between them. How was it that he trusted her so completely when he had no idea who she was? It wasn’t just because Poison trusted her. That had been the reason he’d been willing to work with her in the beginning—but it certainly wasn’t the reason he stayed in daily contact with her. Why he hated going to sleep, because it meant stopping talking to her. Why he gave her access to his new code. Why he kept debating on asking her if they could video chat, but didn’t want to frighten or push her away.
He respected her desire for anonymity, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Hewantedto get to know her on a more personal level.
Keys wasn’t ashamed to admit—at least to himself—that she was the reason he hadn’t yet quit his daily workouts with Jigsaw and Chip. And there werea lotof times he wanted to quit. Like multiple-times-a-day wanted to quit. But he didn’t. Becausewhen they did finally meet in person, Keys wanted to be someone she could be proud of.
Realistically, he knew he shouldn’t be changing himself for a girl. And he wasn’t, he wanted these changes for himself. But he’d found a motivator in the thought of Glitch, and he wasn’t going to waste that.
Ghost and Steel hadn’t come out and said anything to him, and Keys wasn’t sure they ever would, but both had come by Keys’ new building across the street to watch his workouts. The pride in both their expressions was intimidating as fuck. Steel had become like a father-figure to Keys and Ghost was the big brother he’d never had. He didn’t want to disappoint or let either down.
It was also because of that that Keys had asked Angel and Cage to train him in hand-to-hand. Ranger, Ghost, even Bulldog, could have. Hell, a number of his brothers could have, but Keys didn’t feel judged by Angel and Cage the way he did with the others. Angel certainly wasn’t gentle and Cage enjoyed putting Keys on the groundwaytoo much, but they were patient and they gave him instructions rather than throwing him in the deep end to see if he could swim.
While Keys had no illusion that he would become the next Jet Li, he still wanted to be useful beyond a computer screen. Especially with opening a security business. Two brothers who were both former SEALs were coming in to be interviewed before Thanksgiving, and Keys didn’t want either of them to look at him like some weakling nerd. From the backgrounds he’d pulled, he was a dozen years younger than one and almost fifteen years younger than the other.
It wasn’t just that he wanted to be respected by them. He wanted the confidence to stand tall next to men like that, men like his club brothers.
