Page 48 of Rox

“I am tired of being cooped up. Can I go for a run?” I ask Burrito, who is lounging on Max’s couch watching a hockey game.

“Do you even run?” He shoots me a sideways look.

“I could! But it’s boring being cooped up. Please just come for a run with me. I will go slow just for you.” I beg him, trying to give him the big puppy dog eyes.

“Not gonna work, Princess. But good try.” He takes a long pull of the water bottle in his hand.

“You are no fun!” I pout, really acting like the petulant child I feel like.

I get up and head to the bedroom. The one that still hasn’t been organized and cleaned. The dresser still sits empty, and my whole world is still in bags. How can I set up in a room we are supposed to share when I don’t know what the future holds for us right now? I lean against the door frame and can’t bring myself to do anything more than sleep in this room. Even then, it’s hard and strange. His smell is all over the place; his pillow that I hold most nights has started to smell more like me than him these past few days.

I see my new runners peeking out the closet door, and I just say fuck it. What is the worst that can happen while I run, well, attempt to run? I won’t even put earbuds in, and my phone will have the location tracker on. I need to do something with this nervous energy.

I change fast and then bolt out the front door before Burrito can even think. I hear him call after me as I go out the door and down the block. I might have overestimated my endurance. I amsure I only made it halfway down the block before I started to feel my lungs and joints burn with the exertion they’re not used to. I push through it all, letting the burn make me feel something other than emotional hurt. I force myself to go hard until I make another turn down another block. I hear the rumble of the bike coming up fast behind me, so I feel safe enough to slow my pace and drop to the grass beside me, looking over at the park. Gulping in as much air as I can, I watch the kids playing and running around.

“You know I heard you were trouble,” Burrito calls out from where he pulled his bike over. “But here, when I get to hang out with you, it’s been nice and simple. It had me thinking all the other brothers are liars, and you just like busting their balls. Then you go and run out the front fucking door.”

I know he is still rambling and telling me off, but my vision is honed in on a person sitting by a tree. His hair and mannerisms at the park make him seem like he doesn’t belong. When he turns, I see it’s Mark.

“What the fuck?” I mumble. Sitting up, I turn to Burrito, who is still talking a mile a minute, mad I made him spill water all over himself when I booked it out the door. I will admit it does look like he pissed his pants.

Shaking my head, I look back to where I saw Mark, and he’s gone. This is starting to get creepy.

* * *

“Daddy!” I wrap my arms around my dad from behind, startling him a bit.

“No, I will not tell the brothers to leave you to your own devices.” He tells me with humor in his voice.

“That’s not what I wanted. Well, it is, but I get it. I am getting my way a little with the flash sale, so I’ll take it easy on the guys. Kinda,” I smile sweetly when he turns to face me. “See, I can be reasonable.” I bat my eyes at him.

“If I hadn’t raised you, I would believe this act you are putting on here.” My dad waves his hand in my face. I laugh because he is right. “But I asked you to the ranch today because I wanted to spend some time with you—just the two of us. It’s been a while,” he pulls me into a hug.

I love being his daughter because even though we fight like cats and dogs eighty percent of the time, being in his arms makes me feel safe and loved. We talk while doing some work around the ranch, seeing the horses, and watching the guys try and break a new stud colt that Dad just bought. It was nice to just feel normal for a while. But that nagging hurt is still in my heart about Max and him hiding from all his emotions.

“Let’s go into town for a while. Get some lunch, just me and you.” Dad suggests opening the creaky door of his favorite farm truck. I smile, remembering the smile on his face when he bought it. It’s been so long since we rode in it, just the two of us, even before the fight that didn’t seem to have an end.

“It’s the Farmer Fred truck.” I laugh, sliding onto the bench seat, Dad slamming the door behind me.

The drive into town is nice and quiet, not tense. There is ease in the air—almost like there’s not a psycho trying to kill me. Dad and I have found peace between me growing up and making my own adult decisions, and I am not worrying about my boyfriend giving himself alcohol poisoning. The Diner holds many memories of when we first moved here. First dates in town, and the time Angel punched out Max for a necklace. The thought has me playing with the heart-shaped lock, remembering everything Max told me about his life and what he had been through before landing here.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Dad asks me after handing the menus back to the waitress.

“Just thinking about everything going on, and Mimic.” I wrap the lock in my hand and hold it to my chest, feeling him close with the small act.

“How is he doing? He hasn’t been at the farm for a while. Omen tells me you have been to see him.” Dad acts like he doesn’t know what’s going on with Mimic, but I know him better than that. I’ll play along because maybe Dad has more insight into where Mimic’s head is.

“I wouldn’t know. Well, I know how he is physically, but mentally and emotionally, I am in the dark. I have seen him a few times, but he isn’t up for talking.” I lean back in the booth and cross my arms, looking out the window.

“Ew, didn’t need to think about that.” Dad pretends to gag, causing a few less-than-enthused stares from the people around us.

“Not like that. He has been passed out drunk. So I have been nursing the battle wounds he seems to have accrued.” I shoot him an unimpressed look.

“Give him time, Roxanne. Men like us we’re built differently. We hide who we are and force down how we feel because of the life we’ve lived. Mimic isn’t any different. I know growing up wasn’t easy for you, but you’ve had a support system your whole life. You’ve been surrounded by people who love you. While I don’t know everything about Mimic, I do know that he processes the same way I, and especially your uncle JJ, do. It’s okay if you decide he isn’t for you, but I can promise you, if you give him the time he needs to get his shit right, you’re never going to find a man more loyal.” I think about what he is telling me, but I’m still hung up on the fact that he leaves when his emotions get too much. “I see the wheels turning, Roxanne. Running is easiest because it frees your mind from the fear you have toface. In this instance, he’s terrified he’s going to lose you. The last thing he wants is to hurt you. Sadly, it’s a catch-22 because it hurts that he’s gone, but he needs to find mental clarity to be the best for you. Ask your Aunt Bri; she’d be able to give you firsthand experience with it. If you need it, but I don’t think you do. Something tells me you’re going to see him soon.” This conversation got really heavy, and I felt the need to break the tension to enjoy my time with Dad.

“Well, if we work things out, I’m going to need you to promise me something,” I say, leaning back toward him, resting my arms on the table.

“Anything.”

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