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Except him.

Standing at my door.

No,fillingmy entire doorway with his broad shoulders and that towering frame that since day one — even when he was only fifteen — has fascinated me.

And not only standing and filling my entire doorway, he’sstanding and filling my entire doorwaywith a rose in his hand.

A single white rose.

And God, he’s wearing a tie.

A black tie on a dark maroon dress shirt.

And —and— he’s clean-shaven.

When was the last time I’ve seen him without his stubble? I can’t remember.Plushis hair’s all short and spiky now as well, like it was the first day he crashed back into my life at The Horny Bard.

Over the past few weeks his hair had grown out, snaking down to the side of his face, looping around his collar. And while it still wasn’t back to the length that it was when we still lived at the manor, it was getting there and oh my God, I loved sinking my hands into those dark strands.

I loved tugging at them, pulling at them.

In fact, that’s what I was doing the whole time last night and…

What am Idoing?

Why am I simply standing here, staring at him, when he’s here?

He’shere.

What is he doing here?

“I went out to get you something to eat,” Jupiter whispers in my ear, as all my girls stand around me, watching. “And the doorbell rang while I was on my way up and he was there. Just like that, and so I ran to get you.”

I’m about to do the same, run I mean.

When I hear this:

“What are you doing here?”

That’s my mom.

And I realize that he’s not alone. As in, he’s standing at the door with a rose and a tie, and my parents are standing before him. And they’re staring at him much like me. Much like all my girls around me.

His chest moves on a breath and I fist my hands.

Because it looked like he flinched.

Like his breaths are hurting him and it’s because of all the beating, isn’t it?

All the punches and the kicks and God knows what else my dad visited upon him by the time I got to them. And so again, I’m about to run downstairs to him but Jupiter grabs my hand, followed by Poe grabbing the other.

They both shake their heads, and I don’t understand.

Why are they stopping me? Why…

“This is,” he begins, and I hold my breath, “for you.”

He offers my mother the rose and I notice her shoulders stiffening. I also notice that she doesn’t make a move to take it.


Tags: Saffron A. Kent St. Mary's Rebels Romance