“I’d say something about how she shouldn’t move. Like…” He gestures with his hand, rolling his wrist. “I dunno. Neck injuries or some shit. But you’re the doctor.”
“We’re moving.” I scoop Rose’s legs out from beneath her and nudge my sister back, breathing—finally—a sigh of relief as Rose curls into my chest. “I’m sorry I was so fucking slow.” I carry her through the rain and away from the trees. Already, sirens wail through the air, louder due to the clouds putting a cap on the world. “I’m so sorry, Rose. I never should’ve let him anywhere near you.”
“I wasn’t going to leave with him.” She looks up at me with wet, swollen eyes, her chest spasming with a sob. “I swear, Ollie. Even if he was everything he said he was and even if we really were happy.” She lays her head on my shoulder and whimpers. “I choose you.”
“I choose you, too.” I press the world’s softest, gentlest kiss to her lips. “Did you knowmostrelationships that started with a traumatic foundation are likely to fail?”
Her eyes narrow, and her lips drop into a sad pout.
“But we’re not built on trauma.” Another kiss. “Fuck, Rose. We’re built on strength.”
“And a cat named Poppy.”
“Poopy,” I chuckle. “Her legal name is Poopy. Your refusal to acknowledge that just makes you sound silly.”
EPILOGUE
OLLIE
Four Months Later
Heavy footsteps echo on the porch out front, the stomp an old habitallDarlings have to dislodge dirt and grime from the bottom of our shoes. Snow, in the winter. And fresh grass clippings in the spring. That family-ingrained quirk means I don’t bother heading to the door to greet our guests. Instead, I spin on my heels and make my way into the kitchen, smiling as I cross the threshold and glimpse Rose perched at the counter on the stool she claimed her very first day here.
She hunches over her sketchbook, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her shoulders bowed, and her hair tucked behind her ear. She draws, sliding her pencil across the thick sketch paper and brushing eraser shavings aside when they get in her way.
Poopy stretches out on the floor at her feet, her rounded belly pointed toward the sky, her pretty eyes flickering across to mine when Rose’s don’t.
Because Poopy McStinkypants is a street thug with street smarts—sometimes—and she vowed long ago to be Rose’s guard dog for life.
Something about debts owed. Lives saved.
My front door opens, chatter rolling through my house. But Rose remains oblivious.
She’s not scared anymore. And that… fuck, that’s a miracle right there.
“I can hear you staring at me.” Releasing her bottom lip, she smirks.But she keeps her eyes on her work. “Do you need something, Doctor Darling?”
“Do you dare deprive a man of his God-given right to stare at the woman he loves whenever he wants? For as long as he wants?” Chuckling, I cross the kitchen and come around to stand on her right, careful not to step on Poopy’s tail. Leaning closer, I press a gentle kiss to her cheek and peek at her sketch. “Mm.” I grin as two men smile back at us. Two sets of kind eyes. Brothers in arms. “Drawing from memory?”
She shakes her head and furiously scrubs away a section of Seth’s jawline, before setting the eraser to the side and picking up her pencil again. She’s careful to draw his face exactly. His crooked nose and goofy grin. His youthful energy—forever twenty-one—and his arm slung across Liam’s shoulders. “Not memory. But Doctor Pratlin thinks it’s a good idea to continue sketching. He sees it as a kind of subconscious instinct thing, where drawing allows me this place to go where memories and imagination meet and…” Exhaling, she sets her pencil down and arches her spine until the bones crackle and pop. “I dunno.” Finally, she brings her focus up, her beautiful kaleidoscope eyes bewitching me just as they did the first night I saw her. “Doctor Pratlin’s pretty adamant I embrace my art, and since the old-me trusted him, I suppose the new-me should listen.” Pulling a photograph from under her book—a photo of the two men standing side by side, Seth’s arm thrown over Liam’s shoulders—she places it beside her sketch and shrugs. “He likes the progress we’ve made since the stuff with Darcy.” Like the flip of a switch, her eyes widen and her smile grows large. “Oh! Ask me to do something I don’t want to do!”
“Er…” Stunned, I glance around the kitchen, then toward the hallway. Then down to the cat who bats at my loose shoelace. “Okay. Get rid of Poopy. I don’t want her here anymore.”
“No! Ha!” She vibrates, beaming with confidence. “Ask me where I was all day yesterday.”
“Where were you yesterday?”
“I was at work. But now ask me why it took eleven whole minutes to get home when the drive is only actually five minutes.”
Snickering, I cup her face and tug her higher, gently elongating her neck. “Who did you see in those extra five minutes, Rose? Why weren’t you at home?”
“None of your business!” She drapes her arms over my shoulders and smacks a kiss against my lips. “I mean, it is, and I was with no one. I just walked out slowly, but still! I don’t feel like Ihaveto explain myself to you, and you’re not mad when I say no. Doctor Pratlin says he’s proud of me.”
“Not surprised. I’m proud of you, too.”
“I turned the tracker thingy off on my phone. And it doesn’t even makeme sweat, like I’m expecting you to be mad. ‘Cos you’renotmad. You probably didn’t even notice, because that’s how little you want to track me.”
I mean. I noticed. But will I show her howIsweat when I don’t know where she is?
