I call her.
It rings. And rings.
No answer.
A second later, another text comes through.
ROSE:Don’t call. I sound like a zombie. Feel awful.
I stare at the screen.
The wording sounds like her. Casual. Light. Downplaying everything the way she always does. Exactly the kind of thing Rose would say to make me back off.
And that’s what scares me.
I type back slowly.
When do you think you’ll be back?
The reply takes longer this time.
ROSE:I don’t know. Depends how long this lasts.
My stomach tightens.
Rose hates uncertainty. She plans everything. Even her bad days come with timelines.I don’t knowis not a part of her vocabulary. My friendship with her has long made me realize that are not words she’d say unless she has no choice.
I stare at the messages, reading them again and again, searching for something out of place. A typo. A wrong rhythm. Anything that proves this isn’t really her.
I can’t rule it out.
If someone else were holding her phone, pretending to be her, the smartest thing I could do right now would be to act normal. Not tip my hand. Not let them know I’m suspicious.
So I don’t push.
Get better soon xoxo,I type, my fingers steady even though my chest isn’t.
The reply comes almost immediately.
ROSE:
I lock my phone and slip it into my pocket.
I don’t know what tonight is going to bring. I don’t know if Giovanni will actually show up at that pub, or if this was all just another way to keep me quiet.
But I do know one thing.
I’m done waiting.
If Rose needs me, I’m going to be there.
I close my eyes, press my fingers once more into the bracelet on my wrist, and count my breaths until the knot in my chest loosens.
Dusk will come soon enough.
8
GIOVANNI
