“I could ask you the same thing.” She smirks in my peripherals, squeezing my arm and drawing my focus down. “I called them, they didn’t call me. But they saw her interview and wanted to help. Whatever you decide, she should hear it from you.” She taps the pamphlet with the very tip of her nail. “She trusts you to lead the way, so if you approach this with the right mindset, she’ll follow.”
“Yeah. Right.” I step around her desk and drag my hand over my face. Grunting. Exhaling. Fuck, if I could take a shot of something liquid, I would do that, too. Iwantto toss the pamphlet in the trash, leave it behind, and ignore The Wallflower’s very existence, but I slide it into my pocket instead and sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” She tips her chin toward Jane’s door and smiles. “If you’re heading out soon, you really should go in and tell her goodnight. I can tell when you don’t. She’s just…” She considers for a beat, only to settle on a shrug. “Sadder.”
Not helpful.
I turn to hide the roll of my eyes, and starting toward Jane’s door, I knock once, twice, three times, before inching it open and stepping into a mostly dark room, with the blinds closed, the attached bathroom door shut, and the only light emanating from the flat screen TV—still not installed on the wall.
“Hey.” She glances my way, smiling when our eyes meet and completely fucking clueless to my plan of transferring her to a halfway house tomorrow. She’s too sweet. Too trusting. Too fucking defenseless in a world that’s gonna eat her up the second she walks out of this place. “Good news,” she murmurs. “I think my name is Rose.”
Stunned, I blink once. Twice. Thirty-seven times, I’m sure. Then, closing the door at my back, I cross the room and stop beside her bed. “I’m sorry, what?”
She swings her focus back to the TV, brightening as Jack Dawson teaches Rose how tospit like a man. “This is the third time I’ve watched this, and every time he says her name the way he does, it’s…” She settles back, curling into her pillows. “If feels right. Do you think it’s crazy?”
“No. I don’t think it’s crazy.” I dip my hand into my pocket and pull the stolen jelly cup free, setting it on her tray table and earning half a sly, appreciative smile before she goes back to her movie again. “I think Rose is a great name. It’s pretty. It’s common. If he saysRoseand your instincts say it fits, then it’s entirely possible it does. Do you…” Frowning, that pamphlet is like a fucking bomb sitting in my pocket. Burning through the fabric. Burning through my hip. “Do you want to be called Rose?”
She shrugs, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. “Idon’twant to be called Jane. And I’m really kinda mad Jack dies in this movie. That’s not how love stories are meant to go.”
“Argh! Spoilers!”
Snickering, she presses her hands to the mattress and moves as far to the side as she can manage. Fuck me, she’s inviting me in. “You’re off work in a little bit, right?”
“Mmm. Twenty minutes or so.” My phone vibrates in my pocket again, reminding me of my plans. Of my obligations. Of the fact I don’twantto honor a single one of them. So I dig the device out and quickly swipe to my text inbox.
“You got a hot date tonight, Doctor Douchebag?”
I purse my lips and peek over the top of my phone at Jane’s—Rose’s—stunning kaleidoscope eyes. Typing my response without looking, I swim in her teasing gaze and the battering pleasure deep in my belly. “Would you believe me if I said I had none?”
“No! It’s Valentine’s Day, and your last name is Darling. You can’t tell me Cupid isn’t somewhere in your family tree.”
“Eh. I have plans now. To watch Rose take up the whole friggin’ door and be the reason Jack dies.” I tap send and stare at my screen as the message changes fromsendingtodelivered. Then I quickly move across to a message from Eliza.
Eliza
Wanna get a pizza and hang out on Valentine’s Day? It’s not weird because you’re my brother. We just won’t tell a soul that I’m this lonely and desperate.
Snorting, I hit reply and type a fast response.
Me
Sorry, kid. I’m not desperate or lonely, and you’re weird every single day of the year. Not just today. I’ll swing by later if I get a chance, but you’re gonna have to order and eat your own pizza.
Hitting send, I lock the screen and drop my phone into my pocket, then, hitching my coat up so I don’t sit on it, I climb onto the bed andknowI’m in so much fucking trouble when Rose and I meet in the middle and she rests her cheek on the ball of my shoulder. “I’ll only monopolize the last twenty minutes of your shift. Promise.” She releases a heady sigh and tucks her hand in the gap between her hip and mine. “Then you can go do your thing.”
“Rose?”
Beaming, she pops up like a meerkat in the wild and presents me with a beautiful, wide smile.
Calling her Jane takes the sparkle from her eyes. But calling her Rose does the very opposite. It lights her up.
“Mmm. I think that might be your name.” I gently tug her back down, readjusting and sinking comfortably into the pillows behind us, and because she’s entirely pliable, I wrap my arm across the backs of her shoulders and play with a length of her hair, rubbing the soft locks between my fingers.Because I fuckin’ can. “This is the thing I’m doing. I’m sticking around until Jack’s a corpse, and I challenge you to explain to me how her selfishness with the door—andthe diamond she tosses into the ocean—doesn’t make her a villain.”
“Oh, please.” She relaxes into my side, exhaling so a hot wave of her breath dances across my belly. “They tried it. It didn’t balance. Jack should’ve come up with a new plan. Instead, he gave up after one attempt. It’s clear he lacked the will to survive. Unlike Rose.”
ROUND THIRTEEN
OLLIE
