Page 46 of The Fox

Staying is far more than a commitment; it is a death notice hung on the strings of your soul. To stay is to die where you swear fealty. Men stayed with the Mafia, my mother stayed with my papa. Papa stayed with his men, with his power. It doesn’t matter what external forces come pounding at the barricades. There is no retreating, no falling back.

Rhodes is intensely staring at me as I intensely stare at his chest.

I feel him guide me to the barstool tucked under the kitchen island, and the pressure is off my feet. I hear the feet of another barstool scrape against the floor, and a firm set of hands take my weak hand into their grasp and gently massage the tired flesh. There is a bite of pain, but it is overpowered by the way Rhodes is making me feel with his care.

“You are not alone. I slept out here because I didn’t want to accidentally cause you more pain if I rolled over in my sleep. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you.” I glance over at him and his eyes are focused on my hand.

“Is that the only reason?” Rhodes is always asking for my eyes, and the fact that he can’t look at me tells me there is another layer to this. My voice is shaky, but I don’t shrink from it.

“Do you need another dose of pain meds?”

Yeah, we aren’t doing this.

“Ro. Look at me.” I pull my hand from him and do my best to grip his jaw, lifting his face up. “I’m right here.” There is anguish on his face, and it feels as if everything from the last few weeks has slammed into him.

“I damn near lost you,kochanie.”

I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “But you didn’t.” I brush my lips along the seam of his mouth. “I’m notthateasy to get rid of.”

Rhodes’ palms snake onto my hips, and with every fiber of my damned soul, I want him to tighten his hold. I want him to not think of me as broken. I am pulled from my seat and find myself standing between his legs. I run my fingers through his hair before gripping the strands firmly, pulling his head back.

“I need you to listen to me, Rhodes Alexander. I may be injured, but I am not shattered. I don’t like you sleeping on my couch, you hear me? You won’t hurt me.” I place a soft kiss on his lips, the taste of him is the homing beacon calling to my adrift spirit.

“Amelia.” His blue eyes are guarded and hesitant.

“No. If you are here, you are in my bed.” I don’t break our stare, and I know he’s looking for a loophole in this conversation. He won’t find one. “Now, can I make you breakfast?”

A small smile creeps onto his lips, and he shakes his head.

“Nope. However, I can cook for you.”

CHAPTER 32

Rhodes---Roommates

Amelia has been home for a few weeks, and by this point, we have a routine. My mornings are spent making her breakfast and coffee, afternoons at the gun range working, and then I come home to her.

Home.

Amelia is my home, and her house now feels like mine. I have returned a few times to my apartment, swapping out clothes and to grab a couple items for work, but other than that? My world revolves around the woman currently staring intently at the book on her lap. One thing I’ve learned about Amelia while I help her recover? She is a voracious reader. I don’t know how many books she has devoured, but watching her read is one of the last true wonders of this life. She flips the page of the book nestled in her lap. Her lush mane is barely contained in her messy bun, falling over her shoulder, and Amelia pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“What are you reading?” I ask as I walk into her living room, just having arrived after working most of the day. I drop my bags next to her shoes, and Amelia glances up. A smile breaks across her face, and she gently closes the book.

“Nothing important. I want to be reading a status report on Medina, but I apparently don’t control the entire universe.” Her eyes roll as I stifle a chuckle. Another thing I’ve learned about Amelia? She doesn’t sit well. Yes, she has therapy, and while that is going as well as we could have dreamed, it isn’t fast enough. I have caught her crying when she thinks I’m not near, and I know it is killing her to simply rest.

I sit beside her, knocking my shoulder against hers, before I tug her into me. Her injuries are starting to heal, and Amelia no longer requires a crutch to walk around. Granted, she is slower than she’d like, but we are taking the small wins where we can.

“How are things in the shadows?” Amelia lays her head on my shoulder, and I notice she’s begun playing with the hem of the blanket draped over her legs.

“They’re fine. Duncan says that there hasn’t been a word from Medina. That my men are, quote, ‘doing their jobs’. So, I guess they’re fine. I don’t know.”

“You have systems in place,kochanie. I’m sure that if you were needed, Duncan would let you know.” A heavy sigh falls from her, and I pause, waiting for her to explain.

“I can have all the systems in place. I can have the most loyal men at my beck and call. It is never enough. There will always be someone trying to rip the rug from under me. I have to be a visible presence.” She swallows hard before continuing, “I have not taken a vacation since coming into power. I have never sat back and relaxed.”

“Never? What about when you were little?”

“Papa would take me on trips, but they were always for business, and I was under guard. I honestly don’t remember if we ever went on a family vacation. So, the work ethic is ingrained into my fiber of being, I guess.”

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