Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Alex
“Damn, this floor is hard,” I murmur, groaning as I lie on my side, watching her rest on my bed above me.
“What was I thinking?” I fold the pillow in half and give it a good punch, like it’s the sole cause of my discomfort.
I hook one arm beneath my head in an attempt to get more comfortable, slinging the other across my chest.
I watch the faint shadow crawl above me as the streetlight outside bleeds dimly through the curtains.
The light twists across the sheer curtains in slow, uneven patterns, turning the room unfamiliar—almost sinister.
Right now, everything feels like a threat.
Every unknown movement sets me on edge, and every shadow feels like an intrusion that I’m powerless to stop.
The room is quiet, but I don’t sleep. The heater kicks on, pushing a low rush of air through the vents, filling the silence with the kind of white noise that should help when your mind refuses to slow down.
Still, I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling long after the townhouse has gone quiet.
Then the mattress moves. A sharp breath follows, too fast and uneven, followed by a low whimper. I’m already moving.
“Rose.” No answer.
Her body twists against the sheets, her breathing picking up as panic bleeds into every sound she makes. It knocks the wind out of me. This isn’t just a bad dream. This is a memory.
“Hey,” I say, reaching her, my hand closing around her arm. “Wake up.” She doesn’t. Her face tightens, her hand gripping the sheets, trying to fight something off, something I can’t see but she clearly can. It makes my heart hurt, and my thoughts turn murderous.
I hear her cry out, “Not again. Please, no.” This has happened before. She knows this feeling.
“Rose,” I beg, “come back to me.” I tighten my hold on her, pulling her away from that memory to me, something tangible and safe. Her eyes open, but they don’t see me. There's fear in her eyes that doesn't belong to tonight. Tonight only unearthed it, dragging the past back to the surface.
It makes me wonder if anyone truly knows. Does anyone see that part of her? The part that comes out when she can’t hold it back anymore and her walls finally come down. The part that pulls her back into something she never should’ve had to survive in the first place.
She’s been dealing with this for years on her own. I’ve heard my parents talk about her before, about a girl named Rose who fought through the worst and survived. My dad has my mom, but who does Rose have? That changes now. I won’t let her go through this alone anymore.
“Look at me,” I say, my hand coming up to her face, gently guiding her attention back to me.
“You’re here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.
” Her breathing is uneven, her body still caught between then and now, and I can feel it like it’s my own.
I won’t let it reclaim her. Without thinking, I climb onto the bed beside her and pull the comforter over us, gathering her against my chest. She goes rigid for the briefest moment before grabbing onto me.
Hard. Like she needs something solid to hold onto.
It does something to me I can’t begin to understand.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my hand moving slowly along her back.
“You’re not there anymore, baby.” It takes a minute.
Maybe longer. I don’t let go. I won’t, not now that I know what she’s been through and how she keeps it together.
Her breathing is still uneven at first, too fast then gradually slowing.
When her gaze finally finds mine, there’s something in it I don’t like.
Something unguarded that’s not broken, just exposed.
A part of her surfaces in the dark when she lets her guard down, the girl who learned to survive still bracing herself as the past pulls her back in.
“I—” she tries, but the words don’t come.
“Breathe,” I tell her, keeping my voice even.
My hand stays on her back, moving in slow, steady circles as I climb onto the bed beside her.
I pull the comforter over us and gather her against my chest without asking.
She goes rigid for a heartbeat before melting into me with a soft sigh.
Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt, searching for something solid to hold onto.
“That's it,” I murmur. “You're here. You're safe.”
I keep holding her, my hand moving slowly along her back until her breathing begins to match mine. Little by little, the tension drains from her body. The tremors ease. Her grip loosens, though she never lets go completely.
I stay exactly where I am, unwilling to move even an inch.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. Her body grows heavy against mine, relaxed in a way I haven't seen before.
I remain awake a little longer, listening to the steady rise and fall of her breathing, letting the quiet settle over us.
For the first time tonight, it doesn't feel oppressive. It feels like peace.
Morning sunlight spills through the curtains as the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifts into the room.
My nose twitches on instinct, like a hound catching a trail.
When I crack open my eyes, Rose is already watching me.
A soft chuckle escapes her, and the smile tugging at her lips tells me she caught the whole thing.
“Are we going to get up?” she asks, her hand grazing my chest where her head lay most of the night.
I fight with wanting to stay where I am and get my coffee.
“I don’t want to make you choose,” and with that, Rose gets up, whipping the blanket off us in a solid flourish.
I see her immediately regret that when she sees my cock standing at full attention.
The hard line evident in the thin grey sweatpants doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
She coughs, bringing the comforter back to the bed atop my rock-hard erection, walking away, cheeks stained pink.
“Don’t be bashful, babe,” I joke as she throws her feet into slippers, avoiding any eye contact with me.
“He was just saluting you good morning.” She snorts as the door to the bathroom closes behind her with a soft click.
I pick up my cotton tee from the floor and run a hand through my hair.
I hear the sound of running water, and sigh, running a hand over my face. “Coffee, it is.”
I open the bedroom door to see Ezra awake and sitting at the small kitchen island with his coffee and his laptop out.
I hang my head, groaning as I grab the other mug in the kitchen.
He continues typing, then asks, “You know you only have two mugs?” before resuming what he was doing, looking up at me expectantly.
I shrug, filling up the cup as steam rises from the top.
“Yeah, and apparently only one plate.” I smile at the memory, taking a big sip and sighing. “So good.” Leaning over the countertop, I nod to the computer that now sits closed in front of him. “What were you doing up so early?”
He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Talking to Mom.” He looks over at me, and I already know where this is going.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” I throw my head into my hands, rubbing them over my eyes. I retrieve my phone from the charger and see a few missed calls from my own mother, along with a text from Dad asking me to call him. “Great.”
“Yep,” he says, popping the P at the end. “It’s funny because they had no idea that Rose was living with you either.” He narrows his eyes at me, and I can’t help but wish that I had the chance to tell them myself. I can already anticipate all the questions they’ll have.
“Okay,” is all I manage to get out as I read through the text messages from dad.
Ezra walks over to the sink and washes out his mug, placing it on the drying rack.
“To answer your question as to why I’m up so early…
” He trails off, pulling a key out of his pocket.
“I went to get Rose’s car from the restaurant.
It was undisturbed and left just the way it was last night.
” He frowns. “Her backpack is there.” He tosses his head in the direction of the couch.
“There are no cameras at that restaurant, by the way.” I look up quickly. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Rose walks out of the bedroom, and we both look up as she heads for the sink. She grabs the clean mug Ezra left on the drying rack, fills it with coffee, and starts toward the couch. She stops short when she spots her backpack sitting neatly beside it.
Her eyes immediately find mine. “Don't look at me,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender before jerking a thumb toward Ezra.
She turns to him instead. “I picked up your car and tidied it up as best I could,” he says.
Rose sets her mug on the coffee table before looking back at me.
“Thank you, Ezra,” she says, biting her lip. Then her brow furrows. “Wait… if he picked up my car, then who brought you home? You don't live here…”
Ezra smiles. “I’m resourceful, Rosie.”
I growl lowly.
Ezra throws his head back, laughing and pointing at me. “See,” he says, animatedly, “I told you he growls over his things. Possessive fucker.”
“I’m not his—” Rose starts, but shakes her head instead. “Whatever.” She huffs. “Who took you to pick up my car, if Alex didn’t?” she asks, forgoing Alex’s rebuttal.
“Oh, there’s a really nice couple that lives up here. They were walking their dog.” Rose scrunches up her nose. “Who?” She looks at Ezra, then at me.
“Callie and her boyfriend Denver,” I explain, and Rose’s eyes widen.
“So that’s how you know them.”
I scratch the back of my neck because she had accused me of stalking her that day, when in fact it was just fate throwing us in each other’s path yet again, but she refused to see it.
Ezra snaps his fingers. “Yeah, that's them. I asked if there was anything I could do for them, and they asked if you guys would be around the week of Thanksgiving.” He absently picks at his nail while I glance at Rose.
She's watching him, trying to figure him out, just like the rest of us.
When I look back, he's pulling out his phone to check something before slipping it into his pocket.
Then he walks over and pulls me into a hug, clapping a hand against my back.
“Your dad told me to tell you to take care of her,” he murmurs. When he steps back, he adds, “I told him you wouldn't make it home for Thanksgiving, but they can't wait to see you both over Christmas break in a couple of weeks.”
He jerks his chin toward the table. “Your mail was in the car, so I brought it in, Rose.” Then he turns to her and pulls her into a quick hug. “It was nice finally meeting you,” he says with a grin. “I can't wait to hang out again.”
With that, he heads for the door just as an Uber pulls up outside, its illuminated sign glowing through the windshield.
The door clicks shut behind him, and we both watch him leave.
Even after the car disappears down the street and the sound of the engine fades into the distance, neither of us says a word.
The townhouse settles into silence once more.
“Is all your family like this?” Rose asks, hesitant.
Taking another sip of my coffee, I stare off, wondering what the fuck all that was about. I shake my head. “Nope. He’s the tamer one of the bunch.”
“Fuck me,” Rose says under her breath, and she couldn’t be more correct.