“But she doesn’t want to be withyou. She doesn’t want to be with your residents.” I focus on Rose’s red-rimmed eyes. The terrifying innocence shining amongst the colors. “You want to be alone… but with me. And Janine. And sometimes, with Eliza and Alana, too.”
“Ollie…” Her breath hitches and bounces in her chest. “It’s not your job to save me. This isn’t your responsibility.”
“No. But it’s my wish.” I cup her hands between mine and breathe warm air into the bundle. “If youwantto go to The Wallflower, if youtrulythink that’s what you need, if it’s where you’regenuinelyexcited to go, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll say goodbye and let you have everything you deserve. But if you’re doubting it, Rose, if you’re playing the martyr and going because you think it’s what I want…”
Her lips tremor. But dammit, it’s not the icy wind making her cold. “What doyouwant?” She whimpers. “What do you need?”
“I want you to come with me.” I rub my hands around hers, warmingus both. “I want you to let me help you figure this out. And Idon’twant you to be scared anymore.”
Tears well in her eyes, worsening what’s already red and swollen. But the kaleidoscope only grows more beautiful under the moisture. Her cheeks glow a stunning pink, and her jaw trembles.
Then she nods.
My heart stops. Thumps. Aches. And then it fucking soars. “Yeah?”
She chokes on something that is both a sob and a laugh. “Yeah.” Licking her lips, she peels her hand from mine and scoops up her book bag. “I would love to.”
Elated, I snatch the suitcase handle clear out of Glenda’s grip. “Sorry for wasting your time, Doctor Mayfair. But your services are no longer required.”
“What—I—” She looks around in stunned disbelief. Apprehension. Confusion. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I take Rose’s book bag and set it on top of the suitcase, so I can maneuver both while maintaining a free hand to wrap around hers, then I spy my truck on the other side of the parking lot.That’s what happens when you sell your parking slip up front.“Come on. It’s freezing out here.” I tug Rose back the way we came, through the double front doors and into the warmth of the hospital. “I need my keys and to call Doctor Dawes so he can cover me for a day or two.”
“A-are you sure?” She hiccups and sniffles. But fuck, she’s not crying anymore. She’s not scared. “Ollie, this is a big?—”
“I’m sure.” A wild laugh bursts from somewhere deep in my chest, made worse when Janine shoves away from her desk and runs toward us. I slingshot Rose into her waiting arms and trudge toward the phone. “What’s Dawes’ number? I’m taking the day.”
ROUND SIXTEEN
ROSE
“I would’ve gone.” Nerves settle in my throat in thick, seemingly impenetrable balls that clog my airway and leave me tiptoeing toward dizziness. But Ollie opens the passenger door of his truck and waits for me to unsnap my belt. For me to turn. Impossibly patient, he waits for me to accept his helping hand and slide out onto the loose gravel of his driveway, and when I do, he slams the door shut and pulls my suitcase out of the back. “Ollie, I would’ve?—”
“I know.” He grabs my arm and steadies me as we move from the driveway to his snow-covered yard, his eyes bright as he gestures toward a beautiful farm-style home on the fringes of town. His street looks no different from the one that changed my life two weeks ago; the same tree line, the same quiet, almost unused space. It’s almost like Ollie is the only person who exists out here, though, of course, there are houses on both sides that say otherwise.
He juggles my things and helps me across the yard, onto a concrete footpath lined with snow, then up a half-dozen steps until we arrive on a timber porch. “I know you would’ve gone,” he murmurs. “Because you have this irrational fear of upsetting anyone. Ever. Once you stopped being afraid of the nurses, you felt bad for interrupting their day.”
I fuse my feet to the porch, my throat bone dry as I stare at his front door and wonder… did I ruin his life by agreeing to come here? Did I choose wrong?
“Rose?”
“If they find out you’ve brought me here, you’re going to get in trouble.”
“They, who?” He chuckles. “The undercover NASA folks we’re not supposed to talk about?”
“The hospital! The… whoever your boss is!” I wrap my arm around the thick column holding his porch roof up. “You can’t take patients home! There are rules about this, right?”
“The only thing I heard my boss say was your ass needed to be out of there by nine o’clock this morning.” He crosses the porch without me and whips the wire door open, slipping a key into the lock and pushing the heavy, creaking wooden door open. “Those discharge papers say you’re no longer a patient.” He lobs my suitcase inside and turns back with a bright, beaming smile. “That means I didn’t bring a patient home. I brought my friend home.”
“You’re looking for technicalities.”
“So?”
“So, those technicalities won’t save you when you have no job and your reputation is ruined and your career is over and…”
He rolls his eyes. “Doctor Dawes is three minutes away from turning a hundred. I assure you, the board won’t fire me, because I’m literally the only idiot with a medical degree willing to work in this godforsaken town. Not only that, but I work for pennies and good vibes. They can’t afford to fire me.” He crosses the porch and grabs my hand, callously jerking me from my column and marching me through the front door and into a living room that is… warm. And dark. Natural wood walls. Floors. Ceiling. Exposed beams draw my eyes up to an A-frame ceiling, then across to vast glass skylights currently darkened by the snow.
His home smells of wood… dirt… cinnamon, perhaps. It’s a concentrated smell that hugs every inch of space, and now that I’m here, the air filling my lungs to bursting, I realize this ishim.
