I furrow my brows because, from the sound of his voice, this is concerning. “Okay,” I murmur.
“Come on, let’s sit down for this,” Runes says. Waving his hand, he walks into my living room like he owns the joint. He goes to the couch, pops a squat, and pats the seat for me to sit beside him. I do, pull my legs up, and turn to face him.
“What’s this about? It’s like you’re going to tell me someone died or something.”
Runes chortles and shakes his head. “No. No one died, but people who love you are gettin’ worried, sweetheart.”
Instantly, my stomach drops and I grow with rage. Charm fucking talked to him. I know she did. “I’m allowed to ask for personal space, Runes. I’m allowed to have bad days. I’m allowed to honor my feelings.” Everything I’m saying is true, and he knows it.
“Yeah, and I’m not sayin’ you’re wrong, but you can’t be holed up in this house forever. When’s the last time you’ve stopped by the club, huh? When’s the last time you went shoppin’ with Charm? You two had a girls’ day planned, right? But here you are, obviously not out with her.”
“Everyone moves at their own pace. There isn’t some golden rulebook I have to follow after what happened, and I don’t appreciate you coming in here all high and mighty, talking to me like I’m a child. I’m not someone you can berate into doing what you want. I’m not one of your fucking club members or a clubwhore. You got it?”
I don’t know what it is, but something shoots across Runes’s face, and I suck in a breath. He nods. “Yeah, you’re right, aren’t ya? I mean, fuck, here I came to ask you if you’d be my fuckin’ wife.” He rises from the couch and his veins are protruding from his arms. He’s furious, and it’s obvious as hell.
“You’re joking.” I burst out into laughter, knowing he can’t be serious. There’s no way. Who would want to marry me now? And why would he want to marry me to begin with? I know I’m good at sucking dick, but I’m not that good. At least, I don’t think I am.
He whips around and looks right at me. If the man could breathe fire, he’d be doing it right now. “Why the fuck are you so shitty to yourself? Is it ‘cause of the fire? Huh? ‘Cause, this shit is just physical, alright? It doesn’t affect what’s in here.” he hollers, pointing to his heart area.
I breathe in slowly and wait for him to say something else. Still, I don’t understand why he’s so kind to me. I don’t understand how he can see past the burns, not when others only focus on them. I don’t understand Runes, but moments like this make me want to.
Chapter Five
Runes
“You’re joking.” Fern’s words swirl around in my head like a merry-go-round. The insufferable woman laughed like I’d seriously joke about her marrying me. I still don’t see the humor in it, considering I need her to do this for me.
Not only for me, for my son. For Tor. And honestly for herself.
I thought about it the entire way over here. Charm’s words combined with seeing Fern pushing everyone away for myself. Fern isn’t taking care of herself like she should be. She’s barely taking care of herself physically, it’s obvious as hell, and don’t even get me started about her lack of self-care. Mentally, she’s been neglecting herself for weeks now.
I’ve read multiple articles and books on it because Fern means something to me. I don’t know what that something is right now, but I have faith I will one day. Before the fire, I would’ve had her in my bed by now. Only, we took a hellacious step back, and she put one hell of a wall up. I’m gonna have to scale it if I’m even gonna attempt to get closer to her.
By having Fern marry me, she’ll be helping me, but it’s a win-win for both of us. I’ll help her find her way back to life once again. I’ll get her to the point where she’ll be leaving and enjoying life, one where she laughs with her friends and goes out for girls’ nights when she promises to. She’ll no longer be afraid to step foot out the door.
As much as I’m going to help her, she pissed me off earlier. I doubt she’d even know it. When I told her how her burns are superficial and don’t mean a damn thing, I meant it. The fact she thinks her physical appearance counts more than what’s on the inside . . . Gods, I’ll never understand it.
“Fern, tell me if the roles were reversed, what would you do? Would you really care about the way my skin looked?” I demand, awaiting an answer, watching her features closely.
I don’t miss the way she flinches or the way she gnaws on her bottom lip.
“I . . .” she stammers, not finishing her sentence.
“You’d refuse to back down and give up on your friends. Am I right?” I demand, already knowing I am. Fern would be in your face telling you she’s not going anywhere and she’s got your back. She has a strong spirit like that.
“Runes,” she murmurs nervously. Fern’s expression is one of apprehension. She seems like she wants to run away and lock herself up so no one else can get close enough to hurt her again.
I’m not about to let that happen. I felt something with Fern when we first started talking. She makes me laugh, and I haven’t felt like I do with her in many years. And in order for my plan to work to face the judge, I need her. I can’t see myself allowing just anyone—even if I’m only pretending. Though with Fern, I can see us making this work because deep down, she has a heart of gold.
“Don’t ‘Runes’ me, sweetie,” I grumble, keeping my anger in check. I know I’ve got a temper. But I’m not an asshole, I understand Fern’s got an attitude, and it goes straight to my cock. I’ve never been much for a woman with an attitude. Then again, those women aren’t Fern. She’s different and doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my anger. The only tongue lashing I want to give her is one where I’ve got my face buried between her legs, and she’s panting my name while I make her come.
“I meant what I said. I came here to ask you to marry me,” I mutter, taking a step forward and getting in her space. “And for the record, you’d never be treated like one of the hóras.”
Fern parts her lips, and I hold myself back to keep from pulling her into my body and making her mine.
“Why?” she asks just above a whisper.
“Why?” I arch an eyebrow in question.
“Yeah, why? Why did you come here to ask me to marry you? Is it because I need to be your alibi? To not be able to testify against you for some reason?”
“I don’t need you to testify against me for shit,” I snarl, curling my lip because that’s the first thing to pop out of her mouth. Granted, the alibi question does hold merit, but it’s not quite the reason.
I only want my son with me, and I don’t think it’s selfish to not want to worry about him going back to his mother. Hillary is a monster. It’s why I call the bitch Hellary most of the time. Since Tor got here, he’s opened up even more about what’s been happening at home. I asked him why he never told me before now. I would’ve taken him from that environment. His excuse is he didn’t know how to tell me without me thinking less of him.