Page 88 of Penny & Royce

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain.

With each step he took toward his family’s home, his determination returned.

He’d never been the kind of guy to sit back and take what the world handed him. Royce knew better than to expect to find happiness if he wasn’t willing to fight for it.

Penny was his happiness.

She was the one thing in his life he’d wanted with this much certainty, and there was nothing she could do or say to make him believe they weren’t meant to be.

He didn’t have a strong faith in God before her.

Not really.

Not in any way that mattered.

But Penny had made him wonder if maybe some things were placed in a person’s path for a reason. Her smiles. Her love. Everything she made him feel that he hadn’t thought was possible.

She could tell him they weren’t good for each other, but she was wrong.

He’d prove it to her like he had the first time.

This was just a bump in the road.

A bump that happened to include his entire family.

As soon as he took care of them, he could set to work repairing his relationship with the love of his life.

Royce stepped into his family’s home and dropped the duffel bag by the front door. His wounds were still healing, and each movement reminded him that he needed to take it easy.

No weaknesses.

He needed to present a strong front if he had a prayer of fixing any of this.

There were quiet voices farther into the house. The sitting room was empty. So was the kitchen. The voices weren’t coming from upstairs, so Royce continued until he reached the larger family room. This was where the majority of their family meetings took place.

And it appeared that was exactly what he’d walked in on.

“Someone has to talk some sense into him.”

“Maybe it’s a phase. He’s just being rebellious.”

A snort. “I think he’s a little old for that.”

“Has anyone considered reaching out to George Taylor?”

“There’s no way he’s gonna help. You should have seen him today.”

Lincoln stood by the fireplace, his forearm resting on the mantel. His father sat in the large rocker off to the left of the room near the wall of built-in bookshelves. Beside him was Royce’s stepmother. She seemed troubled, but she’d never been the type to speak up when it came to the matter of their family feud with the Taylors. The rest of his siblings were either seated on the couch or leaning against it on the floor.

All heads turned in his direction as one, and conversation halted.

It would have been creepy if he’d allowed himself to dwell on it.

Fortunately for everyone in this room, he was on a mission.

“I don’t appreciate my future being discussed without me being present.”

Lincoln scoffed as he pushed away from the fireplace. “We already tried that route, Royce. And you threw a temper tantrum.”