Page 58 of Possession

I shake my head, but agree. “Baby, you are not wrong.”

14

BONDING

Landyn

“This is giving me a headache,” Rocco complains.

I toss the papers onto the floor where we’re sitting in the great room overlooking the pool and ocean. I’d much rather be swimming, but after the fit Boz threw the other day, I don’t dare ask Rocco if he wants to take a dip with me. My husband might just lose it.

I look across the room to the man child I’m supposed to be tutoring. “How do you think I feel? I barely passed this class the first time and dropped out of college so I didn’t have to take geometry again.”

“I don’t know why the fuck I have to do this. I was sent here to cut the grass and clean the pool so I could chat with your old man. Now I’m living here, had to cut my hair, and look like I work at a fucking department store. Do you know who shops at department stores? Old people.”

I gape at the guy who looks nothing like he did when I first met him in the office adjacent to our bedroom. “Seriously? I love department stores. I worked at one before I got married. You know, like, a couple weeks ago.”

“People like me don’t shop at department stores,” he continues to complain.

I wonder how Boz would feel about this. As much as I’d rather pluck out my own eyelashes one by one than relearn how to find the slope of anything, I really don’t think Rocco has anything to complain about. Other than the fact Spencer made him get a trim. He didn’t even make him cut his hair short. It actually looks great. It’s still charmingly shaggy, just without the split ends.

When Boz and I returned from the funeral last night, I learned what a quiet night as newlyweds looked like.

I showered off the makeup, tears, and saltwater. Boz decided we would have dinner in our room, but unlike our picnic, the conversation wasn’t meaningful or deep. Then he disappeared into his office to work the rest of the night. But before he disappeared, he told me more about what hewantedwhen it came to his new employee Rocco.

Honestly, the way Boz talks about Rocco, he sounds more like a project than an employee. But what do I know? I’m just here to pretend to know geometry. And shoot me, tomorrow we’re moving onto parts of speech.

I lived through my own wedding massacre only to be tortured with high school homework all over again.

“This is the dumbest shit ever,” Rocco keeps on.

If I didn’t feel loyal to Boz out of sheer will to survive, I’d warn my new young friend that someone is always watching in this place.

Rocco rolls to his back where he’s stretched out on the floor, his new business-casual attire in a mess of wrinkles. He’s playing catch by himself with an apple—up, down, up, down, up, down—as he continues to talk about anything besides geometry. “Are you and boss man going to live here forever? This place is the shit. I’ve only seen houses like this on TV.”

We studied for almost two hours. Rocco is a talker, which I didn’t expect from a biker club prospect. Unless he’s chatty just to get out of geometry. Who could blame him for that?

Not me.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll live here. We haven’t had that conversation. I’ll add it to the long list of things we need to discuss. I’m actually curious about that, too, but it’s been a little busy. Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.” The apple continues to spin in the air as he catches it perfectly every time. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

“Why did you drop out of high school?”

“Why did you drop out of college?”

He’s got me there. I shouldn’t have told him that, but I had to warn him at the beginning of our tutoring session that my “tutoring” could be sketchy at best.

“That’s different,” I clip and do my best to sound like an adult. “Boz told me you played football, and you were good. Why give that up when they have real teachers to make sure you pass these ridiculous classes.”

He says nothing.

“Rocco?” I call one more time.

The apple finally stops, and he stares at the ceiling. “Wasn’t going to go anywhere anyway. Why waste one more year when I could get a head start working for the Jackals. At least that was my plan. But now I’ve got a closet full of fucking ties, working for the cartel, and studying geometry.” He looks over at me. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and you seem cool. But this isn’t what I signed up for.”

What I want to say istouché, young man. I didn’t sign up for this either.

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