Page 25 of Fierce- Royce

Olive Branch

“So you made it.”

Royce bit his tongue when his mother made that comment the minute he and Elise walked in her door on Christmas morning.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Mom,” Elise said sarcastically. He’d told his sister if he had to go she was too. Neither one of them wanted to be here and leave their father alone, but in the end they figured if they did this now they’d have a reprieve for a solid year or more.

They were staying for brunch and then going back to have dinner with their father.

Becky Vern rolled her eyes at her daughter. “You always were snotty,” his mother said.

“Must get it from you,” Elise said though she did force a smile and move over to kiss her mother on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“The same to you,” Steve said. “I was just going to make your mother a mimosa. Can I get each of you one?”

Elise giggled when she looked at Royce. “I’ll pass,” he said. No way he was going to be caught dead with that sissy drink. Give him a beer or wine if that was all they had. Champagne if it was for a big occasion. He didn’t mix juice with any alcohol. Straight up or nothing at all.

If it wasn’t for the fact he was driving over an hour home and his mother wouldn’t give him shit, he’d ask for a beer, regardless of it being just after ten in the morning.

“I’ll take one,” Elise said. “I need it.”

His mother lifted her nose and walked into the kitchen with her husband of fifteen years. She wanted someone to wait on her and she got that.

This nice house that his mother put her own design touch on was nothing like his father’s taste. Or his either. Not that he cared all that much. He didn’t have to live here.

Hell, his father would have lived with it and he knew that, but his father wouldn’t wait on his mother hand and foot at her every whim.

He worked too hard and too much so that his mother could buy everything she wanted and then she still bitched it wasn’t enough.

When she grew tired of that, she used the excuse his father wasn’t around.

Yep, his father wasn’t. No disputing that. But when his parents were in the same room all they did was argue with his mother starting in the minute his father walked in the door.

He saw it and he remembered it all.

The man he looked up to was never good enough.

His father brought dirt in when he came home.

His father was out sweating and smelled at times.

His father never wore anything but jeans and work boots when he left the house. Of course he did. He worked construction. A suit and tie weren’t exactly the dress code of choice.

Maybe Royce having all those memories in his head made it hard for him to let go enough to find someone. He figured deep down the same would happen to him.

Which of course was why Chloe’s proposition sounded so damn good.

He wouldn’t have any of those issues with Chloe because she knew going in. That was what these ground rules were going to be too.

“Don’t get her going,” he whispered to his sister. “I had to drag you here to begin with and you’re just going to get her back up more and you get to drink the time away.”

“It’s two hours tops,” Elise said. “There is no amount of drinking that will get me through this and you know it.”

His sister had a point.

“Here is your drink,” his mother said, coming out and handing it over to Elise. “I see you haven’t changed your style much either.”

His sister took a healthy sip of her mimosa. “What’s wrong with wearing jeans and a sweater?” Elise asked. “We’ve been in the car almost ninety minutes and it’s only brunch with the four of us. I didn’t know there was a dress code here for this. Maybe your invitation should have specified.”

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