“I laid awake most of last night, scared you were going somewhere you didn’t wanna go. Afraid you wouldn’t tell me how you really felt, because you felt bad or whatever.” Finally, he flashes a bright, beautiful smile. “But I should’ve known you’d face this new challenge with the right attitude. You’ve been brave from the moment you got here. Smart. Resourceful. I shouldn’t have doubted you now that we’re at the end.”
“Right.” I exhale a quiet sigh, his words—the end—playing on repeat in the back of my mind like a broken record, cruelly intent on hurting me. “I’ll meet new people at The Wallflower. And learn new skills. I’ll have time to rest and, if I’m lucky, I’ll get my memories back.” I lay my hand over his on my shoulder. “I’m excited to rediscover myself.”
ROUND FIFTEEN
OLLIE
Don’t do it, Oliver. Don’t you fucking do it.
“So that’s about everything.” Doctor Glenda Mayfair is co-owner, director, and patient relations coordinator at The Wallflower. She walks my hospital halls in a sharp navy skirt suit, sensible heels, perfectly applied red lipstick, and a poofy blonde blowout that frames her face.
Who even wears a skirt suit and red lipstick in the snow anyway?
She grabs the handle of Rose’s suitcase and angles her body toward the exit. “The team’s excited to meet you, Jane. We have a lovely dinner planned for tonight, so you’ll have a chance to meet all the residents and make new friends?—”
“Rose.” Rose clears her throat, that familiar terrified rasp crackling her words and telling the world—telling me, anyway—that she’s barely holding on. “I-I think my name is Rose.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve had to process your paperwork with Jane as your first name.” But as Rose’s expression falls, Glenda’s grows brighter. “But we will absolutely respect your wishes and call you by the name you prefer. You’re certainly not the first resident to make such a request.”
“Here.” Janine rushes forward with a bag of books, laying the handle over Rose’s shaking palm and slowly releasing the weight so she’s not surprised by the heavy load. “I’ve written my number on a piece of paper, and I’ve put the paper inside one of the books to keep it safe.” She clasps her hands together, nervously fidgeting, because, dammit, I know she wants to tug Rose back in and keep her here with us. “I put the hospital’s number in there, too. And Ollie’s.”
Rose’s beautiful brown eyes flicker my way.
It takes everything I have in me to stay where I am, leaning on the nurse’s station, practically glueing my body to the heavy wood and praying it keeps me in place. Because if I go to her, I might grab on. If I speak, I might beg her to reconsider. If I even breathe too deeply, I risk ending this charade, selling my house, and pleading with Schumaker to keep a bed open for her a little longer.
But none of that helps Rose. Not when The Wallflower is where she should be. So I clamp my lips shut and repeat my mantra over and over in my head.Don’t you dare, Oliver. Don’t say a damn word.
“Rose?” Glenda prompts. “You ready?”
She stares into my soul, silently imploring me to speak. Or maybe that’s just what my heart wants her to want. But when I remain silent, she drops her gaze and nods, swallowing and turning on her heels. “Okay.” She draws a heady breath, and on the exhale, she lifts her head and broadens her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
“Fantastic!” Glenda beams, wrapping her arm around Rose’s and… that’s it. She leads Rose toward the exit, chattering in her ear about fuck knows what. Sewing, maybe. Cooking. Gardening. Together, they approach the automatic doors, the mechanisms firing to life and the glass halves opening, then they continue through, into the snow and wind, where my sister’s maroon jacket is the only protection Rose has against the chill she hates, and the sneakers on her feet, not nearly the same as the single sneaker she arrived here with.
“You look like you’re about to set something on fire.” Dejected, Janine comes around and stands beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “You’re not even subtle about it.”
“Just leave me be for a second.”Look at me, Rose!I stare at her back with steely determination.Let me see your eyes one last time.But even as I wish for that, my guilty conscience knows keeping her here is not what’s best for her. And yet…Look at me, Rose! “Tell me we’re doing the right thing, Janine.”
“Well…” Unable, or perhaps, unwilling, she shrugs.
Look at me, Rose!
She whips around as if I spoke out loud, as if Ishouted, and locks tear-filled eyes with mine. She gulps, terrified of walking a single step further. Trembling at the idea of leaving. She’s no less fucking horrified now than she was when she woke up here a little over two weeks ago, and just like she did back then, she searches for me for comfort.
“She’s crying.” I inhale a shaking, lung-stretching breath, expanding my chest and widening my stance. “She’s scared, Janine.” I press my elbows to the desk and pray. I fucking plead. “Tellme what to do.”
“Stop her. Quick.”
“Thank you, God. Rose!” My shoes skid on the floor as I take off, dropping my head and pumping my arms, sprinting along the hall and through the slow-moving glass. “Rose! Stop.”
She cries out and drags her arm from Glenda’s, hurriedly swiping her face clean and firming her jaw. She tries on her brave-girl act, straightening her spine and broadening her shoulders. But when I skid to a stop and steal the heavy book bag from her left hand, she releases it with surprising ease, and stares up at me with pure devastation glittering in her eyes. “I-is something wrong?” She clears her throat, almost like she thinks she can hide her hurt from the man who’s been studying her for fifteen consecutive days. “What happened?”
“I want you to stay here.” I take her hand and tug her a fraction of an inch around, shielding her from Glenda’s unimpressed glare. “Please stay, Rose. Stay with me.”
“Doctor Darling!” Glenda admonishes. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“I want to help you, Rose.” I set the bag of books on the ground and step closer, folding myself lower and staring into her eyes. “I know your case better than anybody else on the planet. I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. Idon’twant to send you away when you still don’t have all the puzzle pieces. When you don’t know your name or when your next birthday is, because what if…” I ignore the ache burrowing in my throat. “What if it’s next week? What if that special day passes and you’re all alone at The Wallflower and you don’t even realize the day is special?”
“Doctor Darling!” Glenda harrumphs. “You misunderstand our intention at The Wallflower. She will never be alone.”
