My Rose

25. Rose

Chapter 25

Rose

“He who feared that he would not succeed sat still.” ― Horace

P ost-it notes littered the house now, with more than what was left out for me to eat or what my grandparents’ plans were for the day. Now they included a slew of motivational quotes that did anything but motivate me. To make matters worse, my first day back at work after the storm was a longer shift than usual, all with Janice breathing down my neck about why I looked more pale and bleak and why I was so quiet.

The few times I snapped back at her weren’t helping. When she started bagging for another cashier, I knew I’d messed up. It wasn’t her fault I was being such a bitch. I wasn’t even sure it was Briggs’ half the time either, but just thinking about the way his father talked about what they were going to do made me feel like I’d been covered in slime.

And after he said I was nothing? I didn’t quite know how to take that. It hadn’t been well.

My mind was a mess, my heart felt like it moved into a permanent place somewhere in my throat, and it was hard to swallow past it—especially when I was sobbing in the shower or late at night on my pillow.

Janice kept watching me throughout the rest of my shift like she feared for me or feared me in general and I had to act like I didn’t notice because talking to anyone about anything felt like a betrayal. Saying what had happened aloud would make me seem crazy for trying to justify it or for even putting myself in a situation like that. Briggs came from another world entirely, and no one in Shuster would understand.

I’m not sure any normal person would understand.

The store was busier than it normally was with people stocking up in case another storm was to blow through, yet not a single person who came in was just barely over six feet, with light blond hair and piercing green eyes that had trapped me in a gravitational pull I didn’t know how to escape. I didn’t know if I was naive or if it was just plain wrong of me to want him to burst through the door and find me—the wallowing mess—at a register I didn’t give two fucks to be at. I wanted him to come and tell me...I didn’t even know what I needed to hear. I didn’t think a simple set of words could fix the damage that had been done. And that made it all the more difficult to understand exactly what I needed to get over this hurdle.

Everything hurt. Everything sucked. All life lacked color and all voices were muted and dull. Nothing and no one had ever been like Briggs Andrews, and I wasn’t sure anything or anyone ever would be. It went beyond the things we did together. Something about him had begun to feel like we were two opposites that attracted in the messiest, yet best of ways. He’d been open with me, and in return, I opened myself up to the possibility of us, nurturing that into the reality of us. And I didn’t want to go back to how it had been before when he wasn’t in my life.

My phone vibrated a lot while on break, but by the time I mustered up the courage to check it, I sighed heavily and pouted enough to make one of my coworkers glare back at me like I’d insulted their peace while they were on their break. I shifted my phone to cover my face and read the several messages, each sounding more panicked than the last.

Jasmine: Are you okay?

Jasmine: Your grandmother called me and said she was worried about you.

Jasmine: Said you haven’t been the same since the heir apparent dropped you off .

Yep, I had let him take me home while I tried not to cry in his passenger seat. It was the slowest, most painful car ride of my life.

Jasmine: Dean is dropping me off at your house if you don’t start answering my texts.

Rose: I’m not home.

Jasmine: Ohmygod YOU’RE ALIVE

Rose: If this is living, then yes. I’m alive.

Jasmine: What the fuck happened to you? Snowstorm get your panties in a bunch?

My nose scrunched as I checked the break time I had left. Besides everything that had happened between Briggs and I, Jasmine wasn’t necessarily making me feel any better with what she’d hidden from me. Was I truly that terrible to confide in that no one could tell me the goddamn truth?

Rose: I have to get back to work. I’ll call you in a few days.

Jasmine: No. You’ll call me when you get off or you will be seeing my fine ass in your driveway.

Rose: You’re kind of mean, you know that?

Jasmine: No, I love you, and you are scaring the people around you. Where is that broody boy anyway? Doesn’t he want to make you feel good?

Rose: Idk, why don’t you ask Dean or someone who cares.

Jasmine: Oh, shit.

I worked the last hour of my shift, running through exactly what I’d tell Minnie, and restarted my mental spiel whenever I thought of VanLuxe or the strippers. Her coworkers, if she still worked there. If Briggs didn’t share his women, then I doubted Dean did, either. Though, who could be sure when they all seemed like a bunch of liars now?

Memories flooded my thoughts—how he’d read to me for not only one night but two, how he answered my questions and opened up to me in a way I didn’t expect, and how wild he made me feel. And I still smelled like oranges somehow. I smelled like him, and it made tears come to the surface as I realized how dumb I’d been for believing we could be anything to each other. I was just a naive, twenty-two-year-old virgin woman who stupidly believed in the insane notion of true love and happily ever afters. Yet, somehow I picked the wrong fucking guy not only once but twice.

My taste in men was apparently as bad as my ability to regain my voice. Both had needed some serious help. August was an asshole, Briggs was a liar, and if I kept reaching for the stars, then the third guy I’d inevitably find would probably end up being a murderer. I’d prefer the company of artwork and relics for the rest of my life, secluded in a cold room, over the idea of being murdered by my spouse.

I started walking home right as the sun started to set, kicking chunks of snow from the edges of the sidewalk with each step until my phone rang. My stomach sank as I saw Jasmine’s name flash on the screen. Anticipating having to tell my best friend what had happened was one thing, but at that moment, all clear thoughts left my head. Like she was a vacuum to my bottled-up emotions that were waiting to be sucked up.

“Rose.” She paused as I sighed into the phone, crushing it against my cold cheek. “Spill. ”

So I did. I started with how he’d taken me to his secluded spot after the diner, then promised me a date which didn’t end in an actual date but ended with me tracking him down, to then being holed-up with him in his house for an incredible day I’d probably never have the luxury of forgetting until…until I heard what his dad said to him as he stood there looking down at us like his son was trash and I was the whore fucking the trash.

I pulled my jacket around myself tighter. “Oh, shit Rose. I didn’t…I didn’t ever see Briggs there at VanLuxe. I didn’t know he was going there.” Her voice tapered off like she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share with me. “That place…something was off, and I didn’t really last long there.”

“What do you—”

She interrupted almost immediately. “Forget it. But excuse me about the sexy shit?! Did you say August was on the phone, or did I hear things wrong? It’s windy where you are, but I think I heard that asshole’s name.”

I chuckled weakly. “Yeah. You would point that out.” I’d texted her about August’s guitar meeting the tire of his car. To say she was thrilled would be an understatement.

“Umm…of course I would. But like, how was it? You sounded like a robot about being nearly railed in a shower and a private movie theater and then again in a billiards room.”

“I wasn’t…I didn’t—” I sighed again. “That’s not what I said happened.”

“No, that was me being hopeful. I believe all you said was, ‘We kind of did things, ’ and then proceeded to list rooms like a checklist. What things did you do, Rose?”

I let the silence stretch on for too long, and Jasmine started singing a song I’d only heard at August’s house before. I scrunched my nose up at the reminder of him. “It didn’t quite go like that.” She started singing louder, drawing out the more obscene parts. “Alright! After the…shower, he lent me his shirt, but I didn’t have any underwear, and he told me not to wear them, and then—” I smiled at a woman standing outside her house with her dog, both looking at me like the whore Briggs’ father believed I was. I walked faster and started whispering, “And then I wanted to do something for him, which he made kind of difficult, and then he ended up pulling me into his lap and directed me to, like, do things , you know…”

Jasmine started making garbled noises like she was choking on her laughter. “Okay. I think I get it, Rose. Try breathing for a minute, you still sound wound up about it. I mean, I’m all for female empowerment and sharing sex stories, but you might need some practice in that department.”

My face heated as I turned down another street. “I do not.” I did. I totally did. I still couldn’t say cock without cringing and my cheeks becoming too red unless I was in the moment with him, which wasn’t happening ever again. But hey, at least I could think the words without feeling like an imbecile.

“It’s okay. Really. I’m sure it’s a turn-on for some guys. You know…teaching.” She burst into more laughter and I scowled as I pulled the phone from my ear.

“Well, even if it is for him, he’s not my teacher anymore.” My house came into view, the porch light on and waiting. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, sounding as helpless as I felt.

“Damn. Well, have you tried calling him, or has he reached out?” I let my silence answer for me as I approached the door. “That would be step one, Rose. I know you aren’t bad at communicating how you feel unless the other person isn’t trying to listen and it kind of sounds like communication wasn’t an issue between you and Briggs.” I knew she was intentionally leaving out saying like August , but she continued past it. “So, why now?”

Why now?

Why now?

Good question. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I really don’t fucking know.”

Now it was her turn to sigh deeply. “I think you do know. You aren’t scared of him, like to talk to him, are you?”

“Hell no.” The words came out so fast Jasmine released a low whistle through the phone. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“I mean…he is kind of intimidating,” Jasmine replied. I giggled as I pictured him, the way he smiled and laughed and let loose around me. He wasn’t a bad person, but his father? What he had to do for him? How could I work through that? I flopped down on my bed, my mouth buried in the sheets as I groaned. “The tattoos are one thing, but the faces he makes are almost like…like he could kill you and not think twice about it. I mean, Dean makes similar faces, but the guy is a giant teddy bear. Around me, at least. I can’t picture Briggs being soft in any way. Sorry, but he gives off harder vibes than rocks do.”

Briggs’ words circled my thoughts. I’ve never killed anyone. But what if he lied about that, too?

I groaned again into the sheets before I turned my head to the side to answer her, choosing to believe what he’d told me before because I stupidly still believed in the way his eyes didn’t lie as he stared back at me and told me those very words. “He’s not really like that. He’s actually kind of funny and incredibly thoughtful and sweet. He even has a cute dimple that creases at the edge of his lips and cheek, and he reads poetry—like, ancient poetry, Min. But he hides it like it could ruin him if people saw the real him. It’s almost as if he was turned into someone he didn’t want to be, and now he just has to live like that. He also seemed relieved when I could stay longer during the storm. I think I…I think I’ve seen some parts of him that—” I stopped myself before saying anything I’d regret later. I’d seen the real him and the facade, and somehow, all sides were beautiful. “I don’t know.”

“Wow, girl.”

“What?” I pushed off my bed, suddenly feeling jittery. I started shrugging out of my winter coat, then pulled on Briggs’ jacket. The weight of it alone made my fingers stop twitching against the phone as I settled back down on the floor at the edge of the rug.

“Nothing.” I could almost hear her smiling through the phone while my fingers traced those two letters on the floor. “Maybe sit on what you just said, run it through that big brain of yours a few times. Then call me when it occurs to you. ”

“When what—”

A man’s voice murmured something indecipherably in the background. “Listen…I’ve gotta go. But, hey, I’m here for you.” I heard sounds that made my stomach sink—Dean, and she sounded happy with whatever he’d just said to her. “If you want me to call later or tomorrow, whenever, I’ll make time for you. Always.”

A knock came at my door a few minutes after Minnie said bye. “Heya Rose, think you could lend your old man a hand?”

I opened the door and my grandfather smiled down at me. Relief flooded through me. “Yeah, what are we fixing? Did the van’s hose snap off again?”

His grey brow raised as he smiled. “No, thank the heavens.” He spread his arm wide, gesturing for me to walk through the door and follow him to the garage. “But, uh…we replaced the van. Didn’t you notice?”

My brows shot up. “You did? When?” They didn’t have the means to afford a new van, and had been running with the same one for over a decade.

“Was it a week ago now? Something like that. Your grandmother finally won one of those giveaways or sweepstakes she’s always entering.” He opened the garage door before I could and my jaw fell to the floor .

“You won… that ?” I walked forward quickly and tapped on the hood of the way-too-expensive black Bentley with my knuckle. “People don’t just give these away, do they?” My grandfather rubbed at the slight smudge my knuckle left as I mouthed an apology. He remained silent. “This car...is really expensive. Did someone famous die and give away all their stuff?”

“I tried telling your grandmother they are pricey and told her it was a scam when someone called telling us we’d won, but the next day, the car showed up. Was kind of hard to argue with her after that.” He unlocked the doors with the fob in his hand as I moved to pull the handle. The leather was a pristine white color—too clean to feel like I could sit in it after working all day.

My grandfather grunted as I closed the door a little too hard, and I mouthed another apology. “So, we aren’t fixing this one then, huh?” I shrugged to myself as I took one last, long glance at the car. There was no way my grandmother had won some giveaway, but I didn’t want to think too much about it. I had a feeling I knew where the car came from as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, but it would be absurd to think Briggs would just go out and buy them a brand-new car. Maybe my grandmother really had won some ridiculous, small-town giveaway. I couldn’t have meant that much to him, seeing as he said I meant nothing to him in the first place.

“I sold the van and bought another beater—it’s out back. Thought we could fix it up together and finally get you into a car.” His back stiffened as I glared at him.

“You know I almost have enough saved— ”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shooed me with his hand. “Now you can use that to find an apartment or something.”

I flicked my nose with my thumb. “Really? You’re fine with me moving out?”

He cocked his hip to the side and put his hand there. “Honey, we’ve been waiting for you to move out for a while.” I tried to hide my flinch. “Not that we don’t love having you here, but sweetie, you are twenty-two, almost twenty-three. You don’t have to stay here forever, you know.”

“I know,” I admitted.

His hand snaked up to scratch the back of his head. “We figured since you have a boyfriend now, you might want to be...well, you might not want to live here anymore. Have some more privacy and all that?” The overgrown whiskers of his brow flicked up as I struggled to make eye contact, settling on nodding my head just to get him to lead me to the back. “How is that going? All good?”

I shrugged, wobbling my head in a nonsensical way. “It’s okay,” I lied. His brow cocked again, but the moment his mouth opened, he snapped it shut as we walked under the carport past piles of shoveled snow toward an older Jeep Wrangler. The fabric top of the car was rolled back, and the tires were lifted to my waist.

“Well, don’t let that boy be a dumbass.” I almost choked on my spit as my grandfather walked up to the back of the Jeep. His head popped over from the side, finding me by the side view mirror. The paint was fading a little where I was tapping my fingers, drawing my grandfather’s gaze. “Everything’s alright with you, right Rose?”

“Yeah, Grandpa.” I rolled back my shoulders. “Really. I’m good. ”

“School is going good? Work?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at the ground. “Did mom have a nickname for dad that started with a V?”

His forehead crinkled as he rubbed the back of it with his hand. “Not that I recall. His name was John, a pretty common normie of a guy. Why?”

“No reason.” The letter was maybe a friend, then. I wasn’t even sure why I cared. Maybe I was looking for a connection to her, anything that would help with my current issues I couldn’t avoid for much longer. I walked over to where my grandfather was, noticing the spare tire had already been used, and sighed. “Going to need to fix a few things here with my savings, but I’m sure I can find a place quickly.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “Rose, we aren’t forcing you out. But people your age…they don’t stay home for that long anymore.”

I bit down on my lip and wrapped my arms around my waist, squeezing some of that citrus scent from the leather. “You’re right. Really. I wanted to move out after high school like Min, but I figured you both wanted me to stick around.”

“Always liked that girl, Jasmine. She’s a little crazy, though.” His eyes traveled over my jacket, a silent question written on his face. “We can pitch in to help with expenses, but I did find a place by the college from a listing in the newspaper. Got me thinking more about you moving out and onward”—he tapped on the spare tire—“and how you’ll need a car, too. I know your parents…what they left behind…well—”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to help. ”

His blue eyes, the same shade as mine and my mother’s, locked on me. “You should have had that money to be a kid. To live. You’d have a new car and a nice home of your own to at least rent, and all of your college expenses would have been covered.” His eyes welled, and I put a hand over his and squeezed.

“I’m happy that I got to help you after all you’ve done for me. I don’t regret it one bit, and neither should you.” His lips quivered. “Getting sick and needing someone doesn’t make you a burden, Grandpa.”

His hand squeezed mine back. “No, I suppose you’re right about that.” He smiled down at me. “You must’ve gotten all that wisdom from me, huh?” His other hand tapped over mine. “Good genes in this family, I tell you what.” He removed his hands from me and pulled me to his side with one arm. His finger touched the tip of my nose, which I wrinkled up to him in response. “You have to remember that about yourself, too. You aren’t a burden. Don’t let things hold you back because you think you’re a burden or that you owe someone something for who you are. The right people will appreciate you.”

I snorted. “Are you about to tell me how dumb I was to keep August around as a friend?” I nudged my elbow into him as the silence stretched. “You and Grandma need to stop calling Jasmine for gossip. Just ask me.” I laughed at the same time he did.

“Alright, that’s fair.” His chin settled along the crown of my head. “I heard you chucked his guitar, but that wasn’t from Jasmine. His mother called us, saying we needed to buy him a new one.”

My ribs seized with laughter. “Are you serious? ”

“He will never be a man, that slimy little weasel. Went crying to his mama, and he’s a full-grown adult.” He released me and started walking around to the front of the car. “See what staying at home too long can do to you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved my hand at him. “I don’t think that’s his problem, but I get it. I’ll get right on it, don’t worry.”

“Good.” He clucked his tongue. “Your grandmother was worried that Andrews boy was going to start sleeping over, and we really don’t want to hear that…ya know—”

“Okay!” I shouted, blushing furiously. “Okay. I get it.”

“These walls are real thin, Rose. I mean he seems respectable, but boys that age have urges —”

“Grandpa!” My ears flushed with heat. “You guys skipped right over the birds and the bees and jumped into the nest-making. You’re both crazy.” If only he knew what kind of urges Briggs had, and how crazy it made me feel that I enjoyed it, too. Not that any of that would be happening anymore.

“Just looking out for you, sweetie.” He pointed at his ear as I righted myself. “And these. Never had a hearing problem, and would hate to start pretending I do, if you catch my drift.”

“Wow,” I whispered as I put my hands on my hips and looked up at the sky. “Where was that house you said you found for rent?” I pulled my phone out, pretending I was about to search for the address and he chuckled.

His hand gently tapped the hood. “I’ll show you the listing after we’re done making a list of all the things we need to fix on this beaut.”