Chapter 2
Rose
Distant water drifts around me. I can’t see clearly.
Shapes hover above, watching, but everything is blurry.
A clock ticks somewhere. My lungs clamp shut, like a can crushed empty through a straw.
I’m weightless, cloudlike, my eyes open underwater.
Where am I? A voice calls out, too far to reach.
Vox is here somewhere, but I can’t get to him.
My eyes snap open. I’m in our bedroom, Vox’s arms tight around me, my back pressed to his chest, his nose tucked under my ear, our breathing falling into the familiar rhythm that always brings me back.
I find his hand and squeeze once, anchoring myself.
“Sorry,” I whisper silently, lips shaping the word. He strokes my cheek, turning toward me.
He sighs. “Wish I could take them away from you.” Resignation settles in his features, like a quiet ache rearranging furniture and lighting candles inside him, stealing his peace. I kiss him gently, pushing away the bad memories with good ones. He kisses back, a low growl rumbling through him.
“Make it all better,” I sign. “Please.” He studies my face, searching for sadness and finding only hope.
Hope for tomorrow. Hope for a day when my past won’t reach for me anymore.
Because he knows me better than anyone, he understands exactly what I need.
He kisses me and pulls me onto shore again, our hearts beating in unison as the sun rises with us.
Losing a few hours of sleep is worth it.
Later, he walks to the kitchen, making himself coffee and preparing hot cocoa for me.
He tried giving me coffee once, but the taste was too strong.
“Here, angel,” he says. “Sit.” He motions toward the nook beside the bay window.
I take the warm mug of chocolate heaven and curl into the cushions I picked out to brighten the space.
He returns with a tray holding slices of the brioche from yesterday, cornflakes, my new favorite food, and his coffee.
We eat in comfortable silence, trading glances, enjoying every bite while watching the sunrise.
Pink and red wash over the trees, a view worthy of a painting. One I’ll never grow tired of.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, eyes on the window.
I look down at my hands wrapped around my mug, a beige one with red hearts painted on it.
I set it on the tray and sign, “I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if you’d never moved next to me.
Life would be so…different. I’d be married to an awful man.
Probably pregnant.” A dark ache tugs at my chest as I think of all the younger girls still trapped in the cult.
What will happen to them? He stays quiet, listening.
“You would’ve found a way out,” he signs. “One way or another.”
“I don’t know. If I’d had children, everything would have been different.” I shake my head, staring at my hands. Faint healed scars still mark my skin from the wooden ruler they used to punish me.
He stands, comes close, tilts my chin up with his hand, and kisses me.
“If you really wanna know,” he says, voice low, “I would’ve found a way back to you.
One way or another. Kids or no kids. I’d have gotten all of you out.
” It sounds like a vow, and I fall in love with him all over again.
Only Vox could love another man’s children just because they’d be a part of me. That’s how deep his love runs.
Later, we’re dressed and about to head out for a walk.
I like going to the park near our home to read, but Vox prefers the privacy of the forest. I spin once in front of the mirror by the entryway, next to the shoe shelves where Vox lines up all our shoes in perfect order.
I always try to keep it neat. I know clutter bothers him.
I’m wearing the gear he bought me, his name sewn on the back in white so everyone knows I’m his.
My reflection looks healthier now. More toned, more womanly, no longer on the edge of collapse like I used to be.
I didn’t know what a balanced diet was until months ago.
Vox introduced me to vegetables, fruit, pizza, pasta, and everything I wasn’t allowed before.
Looking back, I realize how sick I must have seemed.
Now I’m where I should’ve always been. Healthy and toned.
Vox even leaves water bottles everywhere to make me drink more.
I giggle every time I find one. The last one was in my sock drawer. My phone vibrates in my back pocket.
Vox
Ready, angel?
I smile, lock the door, and hurry to the garage. In two steps, I’m there. He hands me my helmet. “Rose, Rose, Rose… What am I gonna do with you?” he tsks, drinking me shamelessly. “Those pants on ya…” he mutters. I rise on my toes and kiss his jaw.
“Where are you taking us?” I sign.
“Forest?” he signs back. It’s one of our favorite places.
I love the hum of town life and the quiet charm of our neighborhood, but nothing beats the calm of the forest. I suspect he knows that’s where my thoughts clear the most, and since I had a nightmare, that’s probably why he chose it today.
Saturdays are one of my favorite days. We spend the whole day together, no classes or work between us.
It always goes too fast. Time with Vox is never enough.
Helmet secured, he turns from the bike, checks mine, and then grips my waist to lift me onto the back seat.
His gaze burns with silent promises. Once we’re both settled, he finds my hand blindly and places it on his abdomen.
I smile under the helmet. Vox always leads the way, always makes sure I’m with him, not lost in my head.
The roar of the engine rumbles to life, filling me with a familiar, grounding warmth, and we set off toward the woods, our lovely home waiting for us to return.
Vox
“Which one did you take?” she signs as we sit on a bench overlooking the city, hidden among the trees.
Seeing everything while staying concealed.
She looks incredible in her black gear, our helmets waiting on the bike parked behind us.
She’s eyeing my backpack as I unzip it to pull out the snacks I always grab for us.
Gotta keep my girl fed at all times. Especially since she loves sweets so much.
The way she closes her eyes and gives that silent hum, damn, it could almost stop my heart.
I have to admit, looking at her like this, it’s hard to believe we’re not married yet.
She’s already my wife in every way that counts.
And I’m pretty sure I’m already her husband in her heart.
Doesn’t mean nothing will change after the vows, but something about Rose just makes it obvious.
If I’m the vault, then she’s the only key that can open it.
As far as I’m concerned, we’re already married.
Signing the papers just lets the world know, too.
“Guess right and you get to choose the next delivery order.” I grin, fully aware she’ll pick whatever she wants, and I’ll say yes because her happiness tops everything.
“Peanut butter cups,” she signs with a mischievous smile, and a wicked one creeps onto my face.
“Almost.”
“Tell me you didn’t bring the jelly thing.”
“C’mon. I know you hate those.”
“It’s wobbly.”
“What?” I say out loud, not recognizing her sign. I’m still taking classes, and even after a year, I’m learning new words every week. Gotta keep up, because once we have kids, they’ll need to learn to sign too. I want to teach them the way I’m learning with Rose so they grow up knowing it’s normal.
“W-o-b-b-l-y,” she spells slowly, and I chuckle.
“Here. No wobbly stuff, I promise.” I hand her the caramel popcorn she loves. Those damn kernels make her laugh every time they pop in the microwave, and even after a year, that sound is still one of my favorites.
“Thanks,” she mouths. I follow the shape of her lips, already under her spell. I open the bag for her, and she grabs a handful before signing again.
“Won’t you miss having the other members of the club at our wedding?”
“You mean Ares, Ash, and Cart?” She nods.
“We’ll celebrate again when we go to Knoxville next month.
” I sigh. “So no, I’m alright.” I’m a simple man.
As long as she’s wearing my ring, I’m good.
Shadow will be there, and since he helped me save her, having him with us feels right.
Rose and I aren’t social people. Sure, we deal with others every day, but I’ve never been much of a talker.
We have our own language. That’s why flying to Knoxville once a month is more than enough.
As long as we’re together, we’re good. Besides, there’s nothing I love more than sharing silence with her.
“I’ll miss not having Jezebel and Greta. And…maybe my mom too. I wish…” She stops. “Under different circumstances, I wish they’d been there.”
“I know.” I brush a golden curl behind her ear. “I can pull some strings and see if it’s possible if you really want that. You know that, right?” She shakes her head, resignation weighing down her shoulders.
“They wouldn’t understand. To them, I’m not a real person anymore. I’ve succumbed to the worst sin of all.”
“Which is?”
“Um…you.”
“Then I’m glad you did, angel.” She smiles, kisses me slowly, and I curl my fist to keep control.
Sat on my lap, we eat popcorn for a while.
She admires the view and…I admire her. Her soft, pale skin, her long lashes, those delicate hands roughened every week by thorns and stems at the florist. She works part-time there.
The place used to launder money before the owner got caught, and now a woman named Olga runs a legit shop inside the same walls.
She handles customers while Rose makes bouquets behind her.
Perfect setup. No forced interaction. Just flowers and a work she enjoys.
Two days a week is plenty. The rest of her time goes to her online art classes at the university, whenever her schedule allows.
“Jamie would’ve liked this,” I say. She raises her brows.
“Eating popcorn in the forest on a Saturday morning. He’d be a grown man now, but…
in my head he’s still a kid with dirt under his nails driving my mom insane.
” Walls that once protected me fall open for her.
“We didn’t have much,” I add, “but she kept everything spotless. Every corner of that apartment.”
“It reminds me of someone,” she teases.
“Yeah, alright,” I huff. “Maybe I got the same bug.”
“You reorganize my bedside table every day and still think I haven’t noticed.”
“Can’t help it, angel.”
“I know and…it’s okay, I don’t really mind,” she pauses before signing again, “as long as you don’t reorganize my gardening tools.”
“What? Aren’t they-”
“No, no. Nothing. Forget I said anything. They’re…perfectly organized.” She laughs silently, waving her hand. I’m definitely reorganizing that space later.
I breathe against her throat, a low growl slipping out. “Damn, I missed this.”
“We’ve been together nonstop today.” She chuckles.
“I still needed my fix.”
She shakes her head. “If you want, next time we go to Knoxville, we could visit Jamie. Bring him flowers or…popcorn?” I stare at her, taking in everything she is. The sun shines right out of her. Her heart is pure and bright in ways most people don’t even dream of.
“Yeah?”
She nods, then signs, “It’s time you introduced me to them.” I kiss her temple.
“I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“I know,” she signs. “Maybe we can make a tradition out of it. A new one. Each time we go there.”
“I don’t wanna bore you, sweetheart. Talking to tombstones isn’t exactly a fun outing.”
“We do what we can with what we have. One day, we’ll have to explain it to our kids, too. So they know where they come from.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Is that what’s bothering you? Your roots?”
“I don’t know. I mean…I know where I come from.
Not everyone has that, but…” she pauses, thinking, “I read a poem, I can't remember where but it was about…about being grateful for the thorns, grateful for the roses.” I wait as her hands move.
“I guess…I guess it's time for me to be grateful for the thorns, because without them I wouldn’t have had roses.”
“Am I roses?” I raise a brow.
“Kinda,” she chuckles, then rests her head on my chest, “I made you macaroni and cheese for lunch.”
“Thanks, babe. I could’ve cooked. You know that, right? I don’t expect you to do it on weekends.”
“I know, but I wanted to. It reminds me of the first time you cooked for me.”
“I don’t know if opening a pack of Oreos qualifies as cooking…”
She smiles against my chest. “You were the first person to cook for me. I’ll always remember.”
“You know what I remember most?” She frowns as I lift her, both of us standing.
Her feet rest on top of my boots as I sway us side to side, her hands locked behind my neck.
“Dancing with you, angel. That’s tattooed in my brain forever.
” I sway us slowly, loving the weight of her body against mine.
She giggles silently, her chest shaking with small bursts of joy.
I need to make her dance more often. Her smile is my favorite drug.
After a while, we get back on the bike to head home for lunch.
She sits safely behind me, tapping my shoulder now and then to show me little things she notices.
A tree. An old couple holding hands. A bakery she hasn’t tried yet.
Rose keeps discovering pieces of the world one by one.
And I hope she keeps doing that.
Noticing life.
And wanting me to notice it with her.