Page 17 of I’ll Find You

“It’s not like that,” I counter, maybe a little too defensively, which only makes it sound worse.

“Sure it isn’t.” He pauses. “So again, who is she?” I can tell it’s more teasing than anything, but I always said that I would never let someone tie me down, so I can understand the teasing he’s dishing out.

I hesitate just long enough for him to notice my inner debate. Then I give in. “Rose.”

Silence. Then, “Rose Bennett?”

I close my eyes briefly, already bracing myself for the fallout. “Yep.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters, half amused, half stunned. “Your mother’s going to lose her mind. Not to mention when your father finds out⁠—”

I straighten immediately. “You’re not telling her.”

“Wait,” he says. “Your parents don’t know she’s staying with you? I wasn’t sure.”

“No.” I sigh, blowing the hair that has fallen into my face and hanging my head. I’m already dreading that conversation. “She’s not in my house,” I add automatically, feeling the lie fall bitterly off my tongue because it’s more than that. She’s actually living here.

Apparently, Uncle Jameson hears it, too. He laughs. “Kid, if she’s cooking dinner in your kitchen, I’m pretty sure there’s more to it.”

I rake a hand through my hair, irritation creeping in as I glance at my watch. I don't want Rose waiting on me. “She needed somewhere safe to stay. That’s it⁠—”

“Alex. Is everything okay?” Concern replaces the teasing in his voice just seconds ago.

“Yes. I mean it—it is now. Her boyfriend’s an asshat. Well…ex-boyfriend.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Uncle—” but he cuts me off.

“I’m just saying,” he continues calmly while my heart begins to race. “Your mother helped that girl get out of an abusive home. Your father…Well, let’s just say he’s very protective of her.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I remember. I’ve heard some stories.” The bruises. The silence. The way that Rose never asked my parents for help until it was too late. A little girl who is too grown up for her age. My jaw tightens. “They don’t need to know yet.”

Uncle Jameson sighs loudly into the receiver. “Why?”

I don’t answer right away. Because if my parents find out Rose is here, they’ll start asking questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I’m not ready to answer myself.

Uncle Jameson exhales slowly. “You care about that girl.” It’s not a question. He knows there is more to it. “Alex?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“I know you,” he begins, but doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. From the kitchen, I hear the faint clatter of dishes and the soft scrape of a wooden spoon against the stainless-steel pot. The aroma of tomato sauce drifts beneath the door, rich and familiar. Rose. Cooking dinner in my kitchen, and somehow it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The thought hits harder than I expect.

Jameson chuckles softly. “Well,” he says, “this just got a lot more interesting.”

“She’s just making dinner,” I reply, though the lie doesn’t even sound convincing anymore.

“Sure she is,” he replies dryly once again, not buying my bullshit.

I glance toward the bedroom door. Even through the bedroom door, I'm aware of her moving around the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

I wonder what song that is.

“Look, Uncle,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck again. “I know you called about school, and everything’s going great. Can we continue this discussion another time? I need to go.”

“Because dinner’s almost ready,” he says, amusement in his voice.

“That’s right.”