Chapter 32

It's like I'm back in that house again.

Trying to be small and quiet.

To go unnoticed.

So their cruelty…

Well, so it wouldn't touch me.

But just like every other time I wanted to hide and they were determined to find me, to unleash whatever unpleasant emotion that was bothering them onto me, it doesn't matter how small I am.

They still see me anyway.

She sees me.

"Not until I talk to my sister," Stacy snaps, hand jerking out, fingers and long nails curved like claws.

I've felt them bite into my skin plenty of times before.

But today, they don't make it that far.

King's hand shoots out in a flash of movement, faster than my eyes can track, but suddenly his hand is next to me—faster than her. His strong, thick fingers grip Stacy's wrist, staying it less than an inch from my shoulder. "I don't think you need to talk to your sister right now."

His tone is cold, far colder than I've ever heard it.

I look from his fiercely protective expression and over to Stacy's mulish one.

She'll create a scene.

In an instant.

And…dammit.

I love Molly's. I don't want to be embarrassed to come here, don't want to be remembered as the woman whose sister threw a hissy fit and ruined everyone's lunch and delicious apple treats.

I want…

To have peace and enjoy some yummy food with my friends, with the man I care about.

Because I don't have forever with him.

Because…

It's fake.

Which means…I need to corral her outside, let her get her anger out, and then find a way to get rid of her.

Yay.

So. Much. Fun.

Biting back a sigh, I reach up and cover King's hand with my own. "It's okay," I tell him. "I'll talk to my stepsister."

His eyes flash to mine.

And the way our stares connect—and hold—give Stacy her opportunity.

She breaks his grip on her wrist, jerks forward and clenches my hand tightly enough that I gasp in pain and try to pull back. "What. The fuck. Is that?" she snaps.

The ring.

She's looking at the engagement ring.

King's engagement ring.

The fake one.

But…she doesn't know that.

Shit.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Her," King growls, grabbing Stacy's finger and pulling it back far enough that she cries out and immediately releases my hand.

Her eyes are fucking terrifying.

They promise retribution and?—

King's already on his feet, stepping between us, Cam and Rome flanking him. A wall of hockey players coming to my defense. The big brothers I never had. The man I never had either.

And, perhaps for the first time since my dad died, I feel safe, protected, and…wanted.

In a way that even my fairy godmother Jean-Michel can't compete with.

My throat goes tight, eyes stinging.

Stupid.

Because it's not real.

I mean, yeah, King is a good person. They all are. I know they'd stick up for me no matter the situation…

But they'd stand up for anyone in this situation.

Good. People.

It's not about me.

Even if what I feel in my heart is more.

It's family.

It's…love.

It's everything.

"Breathe," Chrissy whispers, crouching next to my chair, her arm slipping around my shoulders. "You're good."

She knows about Stacy and Desiree, knows how they treated me.

Not all of it.

But enough to know.

Because like recognizes like and she's been through enough of her own horrors to know?—

Well, to know enough.

"I'm okay," I tell her, eyes flitting to hers for a moment.

That moment is long enough to see that she doesn't buy that for a second.

But I'm already looking back to my sister, barely visible through that wall of hockey players and?—

"What's going on, my darling?"

I still, dread boiling in my belly, that voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"What is it?" Chrissy murmurs.

"My stepmom," I rasp out. "I can't do this. I—I need to go."

Chrissy opens her mouth, but doesn't get the chance to reply because?—

King is there, hand on my jaw, tilting my face up and studying it for the barest heartbeat before he glances over at Chrissy. "Pack our stuff up. I'll get it from you later."

Eyes wide, she nods.

He takes my hand. "Let's go."

"But—"

"Aurora Grace!"

I shudder, but childhood instincts kick in and I freeze.

"No," King mutters. "We're going."

His arm goes around my middle and then I'm on my feet and being propelled toward the door.

"Aurora. Grace."

"King," I whisper, a weird mix of guilt and relief warring through me when he doesn't stop moving me forward and out onto the sidewalk.

"Just keep those feet moving, princess," he orders gruffly, directing us down the sidewalk and behind the building to where his car is parked in the bakery's lot.

"I—"

"Aurora Grace!"

"Christ," he mutters, picking up the pace and getting us both to the car before they catch up.

Unfortunately, it's at the car where they do catch up.

Stacy and Cathy and—oh great, the whole club's here—Dessie stand there glowering at me like they did when I was a little kid who was suddenly all alone in the world and they were teenagers and a grown woman who could have shown kindness.

Like Chrissy had.

Like Rome and Cam.

Like King.

But they hadn't.

And that truth settles somewhere deep inside me, healing that old wound that never closed, that oozed old hurts and insecurities.

Why couldn't they have been kind?

Why couldn't they have looked after me?

But…maybe it wasn't about me after all.

Because Jean-Michel and Chrissy, Rome and Cam, and…

King.

None of them had a problem?—

"What are you doing with her?" Stacy grits out, her expression frankly scary.

"Do I need a reason to spend time with my fiancée?" King snaps.

Which doesn't help the scary.

Not at freaking all.

Stacy looks like she's going to bust out a long sword and skewer King. Or me, when her gaze drifts back to my hand and then up to my eyes. Hers threaten retribution. "I thought the wedding was off."

A wedding they hadn't been invited to.

A wedding they'd showed up at because Phillip and his mother had decided they needed to be invited.

To keep up appearances.

God, why had I wasted so much time with that?—

"She's not marrying that asshole," King mutters.

Yup. Asshole.

Stacy stills, scary flaring, growing into something…

That has me stepping a little closer to King.

Without looking at me, without taking his eyes off the viper-like chaos in front of me, he clocks my body nearing, and tucks me more tightly against his side.

God, I love this man.

The thought ricochets through my brain in a thousand directions—all of them violent and tearing and frightening and…

Beautiful.

A beautiful sort of violence.

Because it shatters through the veneer of what I had with Phillip, what I thought I deserved.

Because it pierces through the cloud of my childhood sweeping in like a tornado, threatening to destroy everything I've tried to build since moving out.

Because…

King is different and he makes me feel different and?—

It far eclipses anything—anything—I felt for Phillip.

And…it's fake.

"I thought you weren't interested in settling down."

Heart pounding, mind still reeling from that beautiful violence tearing through me, I look back at my stepsister.

"I'm not," King says. "Because what I have with Rory is so much more than that."

Jaws fall open—and not just Cathy, Stacy, and Dessie's.

Mine is on the pavement at his declaration.

Which means it's easy for him to open the passenger door and coax me into the car.

Easy for him to get in himself, to start up the engine, and pull out of the spot.

What I have with Rory is so much more.

But…it's fake.

It's all fake.

Isn't it?