Page 211 of Irresistible Rogue

And all the while, in the back of my head, I tried to picture Jolie in that California life of hers.

Walking along the sun drenched streets under the palm trees. With her aviators on. And her little jean cutoffs. She probably lived in those things down there, year round. Aviators, cutoffs, and retro T-shirts for bands she’d never listened to. Or if it was really hot out, one of those little tube tops she liked.

Just walking down the street with no fucking clue how special she was.

Working in the thrift store. Contemplating the classes she was going to take at college next year and kind of dreading them. Wondering when she was going to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Going home to her little apartment with her annoying roommates. And at night, sipping margaritas at some bar with her girlfriends.

And every time I pictured her in that life so vividly, I felt sick inside. Not in my stomach. In my fucking heart.

Because every time I thought of that life for her, her deadbeat dad was in it, ghosting her calls and failing to show up when he was supposed to meet her for dinner.

And there were other guys, too. Guys trying to pick her up at the bar. Guys flirting with her at the thrift store.

And worse…Theguy.

The one who was going to find her, soon enough.

That dominant guy who was going to cross her path and see her for what she was, scoop her up, like a little diamond in the rough, and take her home. And maybe she was going to look at him the way she looked at me.

Should I just tell her to toss away that life?

Would she do it? Walk away from it, for me? Move back up here?

And what? Move in with me?

She didn’t want that, right? To give up her whole life to move in with the guy who got punched in the head all the time. Who didn’t value himself. Who’d be making her worry about him all the time just by being who he was.

Just like you make them worry about you.

Dad and my brothers… they didn’t approve of how I made my living any more than Jolie seemed to. But for the first time, I actually let myself wonder, was it because they disapproved, or because they worried about me?

Maybe, in truth, it was both.

Maybe they weren’t looking down on me for my choices as much as they were actually concerned about me.

Like Dane was.

Like even Lex was.

And like Jolie clearly was.

And if that was true… then maybe I’d been looking at a whole lot of things wrong where my family was concerned.

You’re always fucking things up.

For all of them.

I knew that was true.

Maybe I’d never been the golden child in my family, but that was because I chose to be the black sheep. They’d wanted me to be something great. They’d had high hopes for me.

They’d believed in me, once.

But over the years I’d deteriorated that belief. I’d worn away their faith in me, their hopes for me, and in Brandon’s case, even their trust.

I’d caused stress and worry for Joss, easygoing Joss, who was always trying to look out for me and for Dad at the same time, trying to mediate between us.

I’d hurt Darcy, for sure. Little Darcy, the baby of the family, who looked up to me. He still looked up to me. And I’d hurt him by being absent, staying away from his hockey games, never being around to actually see his talent and career play out. Because I was jealous of the hockey star he was becoming when I couldn’t play anymore.

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