“He was delusional and full of shit,” Raquel states. “Which is basically code forlurrrrve.”
“I mean…” Eliza snickers. “Let’s not tossthatword around and wig her out. He’ll tell her when he’s ready to tell her.”
“You two are messy as hell,” Alana huffs. “Jesus. She came in here floating on herjust bumped butts with Olliebliss, and now she thinks he’s a dirty whore who breaks hearts and may have married into Barbara’s family someday, butalso, love.”
“Love,” Raquel sighs, and then she gestures toward the street at my back. “Hence, my very slick, extremely productive line of questioning out there. Because if you’re gonna be the woman he hands his heart to, I’ve gotta be sure you’re worthy. Better than Barbara, at least.”
Eliza chokes on Raquel’s pastry, blowing dessert onto the table and into her lap.
“They’re way too involved in each other’s lives,” Alana drawls, walking back to the counter and whipping a handful of tissues from a box. She heads toward Eliza and whacks them into the young fighter’s face. “It’s weird. Bordering on icky, really.”
“It is what it is,” Raquel finishes. “And the fact you were outside, all alone and totally vulnerable, was kismet. The universewantedme to meet you without someone else acting as your shield. Without Ollie protecting you and rushing me along. Without filters or interruptions.” She flashes a wide, satisfied smile. “I won’t lie. I like what I’m seeingso far. Oh!” She swings around and frowns at Eliza’s mess. “That dude told me to tell you hey.”
“The dude?” She wipes her shirt. “Which dude?”
“The horny one. He misses you, Lize. He’s a big ol’ dopey doggy, and he wants his head scratches already.”
ROUND THIRTY-FIVE
OLLIE
I pull into my driveway in the dark, my eyes glazed over from exhaustion and my entire body heavy from lack of sleep, but my lips curl into a smile anyway, because I’m home, and I have the next two days off work.
Thank fuck.
Two days to sleep. To laze around with Rose. To whisper in the dark and stay up late without thinking of the consequences tomorrow. Two days to bum around the house and cook a meal and watch movies and, if she’s still feeling okay, to drag her into my bed and study every delicious new curve she creates now that she’s eating three consistent meals a day.
To smother myself in her hair. To sleep with her wrapped around me.
Fuck. She’s my idea of Heaven.
Bringing the truck to a stop and yanking on the parking brake, I simply sit for a beat and absorb the last remnants of heat before the cold outside intrudes. I rub my eyes, losing myself to a yawn that holds me prisoner and makes my eyes water. But even through the moisture clouding my vision, I stare across the hood and up to my house.
Dark. Still.
I blame my exhaustion for how long it takes to understand the scene laid out ahead of me. My sluggish brain for not noticing a lack of smoke lifting from the chimney, or the fact that there is no light burning inside. Not even the flicker of a television.
My heart kicks in my chest, a violent thump as painful as if I’d stepped in front of a train. Then my brain and body catch up again.
I tear the keys from the ignition and shove my door open, almost losingit to the icy wind. Then I drop out of the cab and onto my driveway, skidding on the slippery ground. I sprint across my frozen lawn, white fog racing ahead of me, and scramble onto the stairs. “Rose?”
Maybe she’s asleep. She hardly slept last night, too.
“Rose?” I bound up the stairs and onto the porch, and jamming the key into my front door, I shove it open and step into a house seemingly colder than the air outside.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.“Rose!” I slap my palm to the light switch and bathe the room in harsh white light, then I stride across to the couch and check to see if she’s lying down.
Nope.
“Rose! It’s just me. Come out and show me where you are.” I stalk into the hall and open every door as I go. Her bedroom. My bedroom. The bathroom. Every spare room I own. The fucking linen closet.
It’s like she hasn’t been here in days.
Was I tired a minute ago? I can’t even remember it now as adrenaline surges through my veins and the fire in my belly burns me from the inside out.
I spin and charge into the kitchen, flipping more switches on and filling my entire house with light, only to find our oatmeal bowls still on the counter, exactly where we left them this morning.Fuckkkkk. I jam my hand into my pocket and snatch my phone out, and stampeding across the dining room, I unlock the back sliding door and whip it open. “Rose!? Where are you?”
“Doctor Darling?” Mrs. Gunderson huddles into a fur-lined jacket in her yard, shivering under the light of her back porch. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m looking for Rose, Mrs. Gunderson. Is she with you?”
