Page 50 of Rox

“Not completely. She has been here.” He stops for another drink of coffee. My god, man, how slow are you drinking this?“More than once. She has been nursing you back to health while you go out and drink your face off again.” He looked at his watch and said, “She’s due here again soon. So why don’t you go clean up? Talk to her and get off my couch and out of my house so I can bed that foul and pent-up woman of mine.”

“As easy as that?”

“For me to have sex with my wife? Yeah, once you fucking leave.”

“Not that, Jesus. I meant fixing it with Rox.”

“All you have to do is fucking talk to her. But I’m telling you now, get your shit straight because you can either help or not. In one week, we’re setting the plan in motion to catch this son of a bitch.”

“Wait. What? How?” Last I remember, we had only decided to do it. How long have I been fucking myself up?

“Well, while you were being a dumbass, Roxie figured out who the hell was following her. But we can’t just grab the guy off the street.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“We can’t find him. It’s like once she figured it out, he vanished. So, we’re setting the trap, hoping he’ll come back. We’re doing it at Stanford’s place. Be there, or don’t. I don’t care what you do. But Mimic, what you do is going to determine what Roxie does with you.”

Twenty Five

Mimic

Me: I’ll meet you at home.

After I was run out of Omen’s house by Mama Judy, I let Rox know I was on my way home. I appreciate everything he and Mama Judy did for me, well, everything I can remember, but I need to be with my girl. The conversation she and I need to have can’t be done anywhere besides home.

She deserves all of my attention and none from anyone else as we work through what this is. Stepping out into the sunlight, I squint as I’m blinded but begin the trek home.

Our home.

I don’t want her to leave. Having her in my house, turning it into our home, is something I didn’t know I needed or wanted, but I can’t lose it. I love it. I love her. Fixing this is the only thing that matters right now.

I’ve been thinking about everything that’s passed since I left the other night. I’m not even sure how many days it’s been, but it’s been too many. That much is clear. I never should have left, but I admit, I’m aware of my faults.

I’ve been thinking about everything Omen said, too. He put it in perspective for me, and I shouldn’t have needed that. I should have taken the answer Rox gave me, and I should have respected what she was doing. I was too stupid and blind to listen. I was selfish, beyond selfish, and made it worse when I told her it was her who was the selfish one.

I want to own every part of her, but I should have known a woman like Rox isn’t one you can simply own. She’s a strong, hard-headed, and loyal woman who will die for those she loves. I know this, yet I thought I was someone she would just compromise herself to ease my fragile ego.

That is not the man I am. That is not who I want her to be.

I know I can get past it; hell, I already have. She’s told me a lot about how she grew up before coming into Dizz’s life, and that’s what’s important. I know there’s trauma. Trauma I acknowledge is authentic, and every broken part of me is deserved for questioning that, especially to the man who put her and her mother together after that.

The small amount of information I’ve been given about Rox allows me to fill in some gaps. I know I can’t fill them all in, but I also can’t stop myself from trying. What I’ve gathered so far is Dizz had to help rebuild Meg and Rox. Maybe even threw in a little bit of rewiring. But seeing how amazing she is now tells me he did an amazing job with the little girl he was given. Meg included, obviously. I owe them both everything for getting Rox to this point in life. Without them, I wouldn’t have her. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to fear loss. I wouldn’t understand this hurt or experience how soul-consuming it is. This love is like nothing I’ve ever felt, and I know for a fact I never would if Rox wasn’t here.

I will spend the rest of my life expressing that and apologizing for everything happening now.

When I finally turn toward my house, I see her car in the driveway. My heart starts pounding with anxiety about the conversation we need to have. I don’t know how many ways I can apologize, but I will find them all. Even after she tells me to stop, I will keep showing her through my actions how grateful I am for her giving me chances I don’t deserve.

I reach the door, and I all but freeze, taking a few calming breaths. I am not nervous about seeing her. I am anxious about what this conversation will bring to our relationship. Will we have to fight to return to normal, or will this conversation bring us closer together? Will I have to walk away and love her from afar again? I don’t know. What I do know is I’m the one who brought all this on to her at the worst possible time. She has enough going on.

Just push the door open and get it over with, pussy.

I push the door open, and there is Rox, sitting on the couch, refusing to look up at me as I walk in. I gently close the door behind me and kick off my boots. She continues to look down at her hands, and my anxiety ramps back up again. I don’t know how to take this silence between us. I have never cared about another person enough for this to bother me. Then I hear the soft sniffle and notice that she is crying, and I can’t stand that even more than the quiet. I quickly make my way over to her and wrap her up in my arms. I’m not even bothered when she doesn’t return the hug because she leans into me. She still holds back the sobs that are trying to break free.

“I am so sorry, Rox,” I start to say, but she puts her hand on my mouth, pulling back from my arms to look at me.

“You don’t get to apologize when you don’t even know why I am crying,” she tells me. Her face may be red, and tears stain her face, but her voice doesn’t waver. God, she’s stronger than I give her credit for.

“I am a selfish bastard. I pushed too hard and stomped away like a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted. That’s why I’m sorry. I am sorry I couldn’t see reason. I was so hung up on the fact that you wouldn’t tell me the entire story, I never stopped to think, or believe, that you couldn’t.”

---