Page 4 of Claimed By the Ex-Con

“Let me help,” I offer.

There’s not much help I can do, considering I don’t have a damn clue where they keep their candles around here, but I need to be close to her. Every now and then, lightning flashes outside, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her silhouette.

She slips her hand into mine, leading me around the desk and through a doorway to the right. We bump into the wall a few times, laughing as we stumble through the darkness. After rummaging through some drawers, Roxie finally finds a supply of candles and a lighter.

She hands me a candle and takes one for herself, the warm glow of the flame lighting up her face. It’s impossible not to stare at her.

“Since neither of us is getting out of here tonight, and nobody’s coming in with this weather, I need to lock up,” she explains, a glint in her eyes. “Want to help?”

As if I’d say no. She has me utterly snared, and I’m not complaining at all.

“Sure thing, sunflower,” I tell her, and together we check the locks on the windows, pulling the curtains closed to block out the outside world. “You always lived here?” I ask as we wander around, wanting to know everything there is to know about her.

“Yeah,” Roxie answers. “All my life. It’s a tiny town and a close-knit community, which can be a good thing, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“But sometimes it can be hell?” I fill in for her, making her smile at me over her shoulder.

“I’ve always dreamt of moving away,” she admits quietly, locking the front door and checking the handle as if doubting that it’s secure. “I’ve never lived anywhere but under my parents’ roof, and it’s … suffocating. I’m nobody but the pastor’s daughter here, and I want to be something for myself, you know?”

I nod, and she drops her hand from the door, inhaling deeply as she steps away.

“Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this,” she says, keeping her eyes on the flickering flame of her candle.

I reach for her, cupping her jaw with my hand. She looks up at me with wide eyes. “I want to hear everything,” I assure her, my voice soft.

She smiles, leaning into my touch. “Are you hungry?”

I smirk at her, letting my gaze roam over her obviously. “Starving.”

“For food!” she laughs, shaking her head. “Power’s off so there’s no chance at a warm meal, I’m afraid, but we do have plenty of snacks.”

She’s all the snack I need, but I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying it because she needs to eat. I need my girl happy and healthy and well taken care of. Yes, my girl. My very fucking bones know it.

“I’ll eat anything you feed me, sunflower,” I tell her honestly, loving the way she blushes pretty pink.

I help her gather and carry snacks from the kitchen to the living area, where we set out the makeshift dinner on the coffee table. Roxie grabs an orange and peels it, all her attention focused on her task.

She doesn’t seem ready to keep talking, and I decide to offer her the same information she’s given me. I want to get to know her, every sweet part, every dark part, every inch of her. It’s only fair that I give her the same.

Very few people truly know me. My brother’s perhaps the only person who does. I’ve never wanted to change that … until now.

“I didn’t come from much,” I start, and the piece of peel she was holding between her thumb and forefinger falls to the floor. Her head snaps up, gaze meeting mine. As always, she holds my eyes, totally unafraid despite the darkness I know lies there. “My brother and I left our home when he was sixteen and I was fifteen. We worked like hell to get a shitty apartment. It was damp and tiny but it was ours. Nobody thought we’d ever make anything of ourselves, coming from where we did. But we refused to end up like our parents, we wanted more for ourselves and we didn’t care what we had to do to get it.”

Roxie nods, peeling the white veins from an orange slice absently, her focus still utterly on me. I love having her attention. It’s intoxicating.

“We worked hard as hell for years until we had enough to buy a rundown bar downtown,” I explain. “It took months but we turned it around, fixed it up, spread the word. Blood, sweat, and tears went into that place. And it paid off. Now we have two locations and were looking into more before I went to jail.”

“That’s amazing,” Roxie says, and it’s not in the same patronizing, pitying tone I’ve heard from others my whole life. No, she says it like she really believes it. “You made something of yourself. I want to do that someday, too.”

“You could, you know,” I tell her, grabbing a cracker off the tray and crunching it between my teeth.

“Not here,” she says softly, shrugging. “Tell me more about your bars.”

I nod, letting her direct the conversation, wanting her to be comfortable. I want to know everything about her, but I don’t want to push her too far too soon and fuck this up.

So, I tell her about the bars and my brother and the city. It shocks me to find out she’s never even visited my city. In fact, she’s barely been out of this town at all.

“Can’t imagine being a wild teenager in a town where everyone gossips about everything,” I say with a laugh.

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