“No,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve had a bad few weeks.”
“I know, darlin’,” I said. “I’m here now. I’ll keep the fucking nightmares trying to haunt you away.”
She held me tighter, and I breathed in the sweet scent she always wore.
A timer went off a few moments later. Anson swept back into the room, turned it off, and pulled dinner out of the oven. He didn’t even glance at us. Instead, he left the room again, and I held Rosalie tighter against me.
I wanted to tell her. Fuck, I did, but what if she told me we were only friends? I’d never had a girl tell me no before, so I wasn’t even sure how I’d handle it.
Obviously, I’d be OK, but I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship and make shit weird. She had all the bullshit going on with the horsemen too.
So I decided to keep it to myself and save us all the heartache of that conversation.
I was content just to have these moments with her.
20
KLAUS
We’d been home nearly two weeks now, and everything was almost perfect. Ryder was on the mend, and everything else had gone radio silent.
That either meant great things or a storm was brewing.
I chose to believe it was great things, but I still prepared for the storm.
Hope for the best but expect the worst.
A rule I lived by.
Anson told Evan and me about Ryder’s feelings. We told Anson we thought it was crazy that he didn’t realize it before.
He’d scoffed and told us to shut up, then hit us with Ellis’s bear.
Now, we sat in our living room, hanging out.
“Where’s Ro?” Evan asked as we watched a sports cast about the upcoming football season.
“She said she was going to get a shower,” Anson said, sipping his beer.
“That was about a half hour ago.” Ryder frowned.
“Daddy?” Ellis called out, coming into the room.
We all looked at her.
“Hey, nugget,” Evan said. “What’s wrong?”
“Mommy is sick.”
I frowned and sat forward. “What do you mean?”
“She is throwing up. She said to get you. Her belly hurts.”
We were on our feet in an instant and rushing upstairs to her, Ellis behind us. It was Trix’s day off, and she’d left with Cas earlier in the afternoon after he’d made a big show of presenting Rosalie with four dozen roses, one from each band member. Rosalie had hugged him, and he’d winked at me.
He was a sly little fucker.
“Baby,” Evan said, going to his knees next to Rosalie as she lay her head on the toilet seat. “What’s wrong?”
