Page 95 of Rogue's Path
“I also think it was because my aunt-mother wanted a million children.”
Peaches has siblings? “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“None. She hasn’t been able to carry a single child to term, but they keep trying. They’ve got their own separate plot for all the babies that haven’t made it. They said they’re saving a spot for me there when I die.”
Planning your live child’s burial is dark, really, really dark. And kind of twisted. There’s no way I could even fathom our child dying, let alone plan for it.
I pull into an empty lot that the Children of Chaos always use when we stop in this area. The neighborhood isn’t the nicest, but no one will touch us while I’m wearing my cut. “Time to eat.”
She looks from side to side. “Where?”
“You’re going to have to work for it. I figured getting out and moving our bodies for a little while would be a nice change.”
“You’re right.” Peaches unbuckles her belt. “Hopefully, you picked something greasy and delicious.”
She’s a woman after my own heart.
Why Rogue?
Dylan
Rogue lifts me out of the truck, letting me slide down his body excruciatingly slowly. He enjoys tempting me.
Before I can get caught in his delicious web, I step to his side and thread my arm through his.
We walk through a neighborhood I would be terrified to visit alone, but with him by my side, I’m not worried at all.
He asked about my name. Turnabout is fair play and all of that. “So why Rogue? I figure this isn’t the name on your birth certificate.”
“It might as well be. Rogue is more of who I am than a name on a piece of paper.”
I love that he got to pick who he wanted to be. “Do your parents mind?”
“No. At first, they thought I'd lost my mind joining a motorcycle club. But they got over it quickly. My parents told me they never cared what I did or how I wanted to live as long as I worked hard and respected people, myself included.”
“Do you get to see them often?” Why do I want so badly for him to have a great relationship with his parents?
“Not as much as I’d like. They retired a few years ago and moved down south. I go down to see them a couple of times a year. I asked them a few times to move closer to me, but they love living on the beach in a small town. They know everyone’sname and are able to step out of their house and into the ocean almost year-round. Can’t say it’s a bad place to settle.”
That must be nice.
“Do you see your parents?”
That’s such a loaded question. “Yes. They determined that twice a year is the acceptable number of times for me to visit. Even as an adult, they plan so that my time is split according to a custody arrangement with each parent receiving equal time. When I fly in, they give me a schedule and tell me whose house I’m staying at this time.” It’s all very civilized.
The scent of trash cans and dog excrement fades away as we turn a corner into a fancier neighborhood. It’s replaced by the rich scent of orchids and lilies. The foot traffic increases the deeper we get into the neighborhood. Rogue weaves us through the people wandering around.
Once we get to a quieter area, I ask. “So where did Rogue come from?”
He smiles. “Street names are a bit of a hazing, which turns into your identity. I’ve always been a team player, even before I knew what it meant. Dad and Mom would always have me help with household projects. Then came team sports, and I found my niche in life. I knew I’d be better working with others.”
That has got to be the most emotionally mature thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. “Were you always the captain of your teams?”
“Never. I didn’t want to be the boss. It never interested me.”
“Then why are you the VP of your club?” That seems like a leadership role to me.
“Havoc insisted. He’s been my best friend since we were boys. Where he goes, I go, and where I go, he goes.”
