Page 108 of Rebel's Fairytale

“I’m sorry all that happened to you,” Ruby said softly. “It’s amazing to me that you and your brother have turned out so kind, and I’m happy to see you both on a different path.”

“Thanks.” Ross sighed. “It’s because of Uncle Thrash and Chris. They saved us… more than once.”

A lump formed in Rebel’s throat at Ross’s words.

“If it wasn’t for them, who knows where we’d be. I just. There was a time that I had a hard time controlling my anger and… Chris suggested I start a journal and get the feelings out. I’m not one to write a journal. It’s not my thing, but I started trying to write poetry about it and found out it helped.”

“Art has a way of helping people connect with what they are feeling inside.”

“This isn’t art,” Ross said on a quiet laugh.

Rebel opened his eyes and watched the two of them at the kitchen island. Ruby reached over and pointed at an open journal in front of Ross. “An expression of emotion in a creative way is art, and Ross, you arereallygood. I’m not saying you need to show these to anyone else, but I am saying you shouldn’t stop if it helps you. I’m also saying you should be proud because not everyone can do what you’ve accomplished in those poems.”

As Ross nodded, Rebel noticed him visibly swallowing hard, seeming to be overcome with emotion. “Thanks, Rubes,” he choked out.

Fuck…He loved her even more now, and he didn’t think that was possible.

Chapter thirty-five

Two weeks later… Rebel

Rebel parked his bike next to Ruby’s car and headed for the front door of his house. As he walked, he decided it was time to get his truck out of the garage, but when winter hit in the next couple months, the twins would have to start parking next to the garage, so Ruby’s baby could have their spot. No way was his woman going to park her badass car out in the elements. He wouldn’t have it.

Making a list in his head of what he needed to do on the truck as he entered the house, it took him a minute to register what he was seeing. On the far wall the room, the only wall that had been bare when he left, were floor to ceiling built-ins.

He blinked, then stared, at what he knew hadn’t been there that morning. The twins had been busy at the clubhouse, so he knew they didn’t suddenly take up carpentry.

It was as he was pondering it that Ruby walked into the room, slapping a new battery into her power drill, wearing a sports bra and a pair of jean shorts, with a brown leather tool belt around her waist. On her face was a pair of safety glasses, and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head.

She was covered in saw dust and sweat. The only thing he could think wasHoly motherfucking shit balls, my woman is a knock-out!

“Oh, hey.”

“You… there… shelves.” He pointed at the wall that was apparently turning the room into the mini-library he always wanted but never had the time to create.

She smiled. “Yeah.” As she stared at him, her smile faded. “Crap. I should’ve asked first, huh?”

“To build shelves in your own home?” He cleared his throat as her face turned red and she bit her bottom lip. “Uh… Ruby… you’ve got five minutes to get in the shower and rinse off that saw dust.”

She smiled at him as she started backing toward their bedroom. “Why?”

His eyes shone golden-green light at her. “Reasons.”

She giggled as she turned and ran. With a grin, Rebel chased her.

Two hours later, Rebel and Ruby were wrapped up in each other and the sheets on their bed. Running his fingers through her hair, he thought about what Ginger had asked him while he got his tattoos. The idea of declaring his promises to her in front of their family and friends sounded wonderful. He wanted to give her that day, that moment. He wanted to show her she was worth it all. She had given him what he needed for his life and his culture. He wanted to give the same to her.

“Ruby.”

She tilted her head up to look at him and smiled. “What?”

“Marry me.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him. He watched as her eyes filled with tears. “You want to marry me?”

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her lips. After a slow, soft kiss, he whispered against her lips, “Your fault.”

She giggled. “Yes, I’ll marry you… not that you asked.”