Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(82)

“Ally—” he started again.

I cut him off again. “You don’t want me.”

He shook his head and I saw his eyes flash with irritation when he clipped, “Baby, that’s just not true.”

“Really? Am I having a conversation in a different dimension than the one you’re in?” I asked sarcastically. “Because the Ren in my dimension is telling me I can’t be me and instead, to be with him, I have to be someone who is so, so, so, so, so not me.”

I knew it would happen. It was actually a shock he’d kept his shit tight for as long as he had. And me switching to sarcasm didn’t help.

But at my words, the Italian hothead badass broke through and he lost it.

And this made his voice loud and his eyes cold when he chose a tone like he was talking to a small child, and one who was not all that bright to boot.

“What I’m trying to impress on you, Ally, is that I understand this is important to you, very important. But we’re talkin’ about you showing me that our future is important enough for you to do something as simple as havin’ a job where you’re safe and stay healthy and don’t bring shit into our lives that’s uncontrolled.”

“I’m not some maverick with a death wish, Ren. I always do everything I can to stay safe and healthy, and it’s part of my job to keep shit controlled. I’ve been doing this for two years and none of this has leaked back into my life.”

That was when he really lost it.

“For f**k’s sake, Ally!” he shouted, “Your apartment exploded!”

Fuck.

I had to give that to him, and unfortunately it was a biggie.

“Rosie was a one-off. He was never a client, but I’ll admit he’s a wildcard.”

“Babe, the people you will connect with day to day in that business are all gonna be wildcards,” he returned.

He was right about that, too.

But it also wasn’t the point.

“Okay, Ren. You’re correct. That’s true. That said, what I’d ask from you is to trust me to know what I’m doing.”

“Since I don’t, that’s a problem,” he bit out, and I felt each word like he’d landed a blow.

So it came out breathless, and not the good kind, when I whispered, “Right.”

“Ally—”

“No.”

His chin jerked on that one word and I knew why.

Because it was quiet and filled with so much pain, it permeated the air, threatening to choke me.

I powered through that because I was Ally. That’s what I did.

And I had no choice.

I took in another deep breath and told him, “The reason our date was off was that Mom and Dad called a family meeting. I was going to talk to you to see how you felt about coming. Obviously, that isn’t an issue anymore.”

“Baby—” he took a step toward me, but I again stepped back.

He stopped moving and I kept talking.

“Still, they want to talk and I need to listen, so I have to go. I’ll be back later to get my stuff.”

“Honey—”

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way and it would be really cool if you weren’t here when I got back. I’ll leave the key in the kitchen.”

“Ally, don’t—”

“There’s nowhere to go with this,” I hissed, and he shut his mouth. “We’ve been around this and around it and it leads nowhere. I have no f**king clue why you worked so hard to get in there with me when you didn’t want me. But you did. Now, you need to move on. Because I’m me. And if you can’t accept me as I am, then we’re done.”

After that, I moved slowly to the door, through it and to my car.

Ren didn’t follow me.

* * * * *

I walked up to my childhood home in Bonnie Brae and walked right through the front door without knocking (seeing as it was my childhood home, this wasn’t rude; and anyway, they were expecting me).

Lee’s Crossfire and Hank’s 4Runner were at the curb, so I knew the gang was all there.

When I got inside, I found they were all hanging in the living room.

Dad, Hank and Lee had beers. Mom had, what looked to my practiced eye, a margarita in a regular glass.

I could use a margarita, sans the margarita mix, of course.

But I didn’t have time to ask. I wanted this done. I wanted to get back to Ren’s. I wanted to get my shit. Then I wanted to get somewhere no one could see me and have a complete mental collapse.

It didn’t escape me when I walked in that no one with two eyes in their heads would not click that we were a family. We all had the same hair, even Mom and Dad. Hank and I had whisky-colored eyes while Lee had chocolate brown, but other than that we were all tall and lean. The men had more bulk, but we all had the same frames.

I’d always liked this. Even as a kid. Belonging to this family. Belonging to these people. And knowing no one could mistake that they were a part of me.

And also knowing what I knew was in them when their eyes turned to me.

Whatever this was going to be changed the instant every single one of them got a look at me.

They knew.

They knew inside I was bleeding.

“Honey, are you—?” Mom started, and I straightened my shoulders.