Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Rose
Ihold the postcard between my fingers, the edges worn soft from handling it.
Greetings from the Grand Canyon. My aunt’s handwriting curls across the back in that familiar decorative script.
She says they’re extending their trip, and they’ll catch up with me after the holidays.
I exhale slowly. I can’t fault her for it.
She gave me years of her life to help me rebuild mine.
She was never meant to be my mother, never planned to take me in after her only sister, my mom, died.
She had no partner to lean on. No one to share the burden.
It was just us. And not once did she ever make me feel like an obligation.
Not when she worked double shifts. Not when she stretched the life insurance money, setting aside most of it to cover my schooling, to cover me, to cover my future.
And definitely not when she showed up for every birthday, every practice, every moment that mattered.
She was always there. So no. I don’t begrudge her this.
If anything, she deserves more than a few months of freedom.
“Were you going to tell me you’d be alone for the holidays?” Alex's voice pulls me from my thoughts.
Still…the word alone hits harder than I expect.
I bite the inside of my lip, giving myself a second before I say anything.
The car is silent except for the tires rolling over the pavement beneath us, but something between us feels off now—strained.
Have I said the wrong thing? Alex glances at me, quick but deliberate, then looks back at the road.
I shrug, aiming for casualness. “Probably not.”
He exhales slowly, restrained, running his hand over the five o’clock shadow that is already starting to show. I know he has more to say, but chooses not to. I turn toward him, watching the tension in his jaw.
“Why, though?” I ask.
He looks at me, fully this time, like I’ve said something that doesn’t make sense. Like I’m the one being unreasonable. His expression looks pained.
“Look,” I start, my voice softer now, uncertain. “I had no idea that whatever this is between us would be…” I hesitate, searching for the right word, and not finding one that doesn’t feel borderline dangerous to admit. “...this.” I gesture faintly between us. “So soon.”
He nods slowly, understanding. The rest of the drive passes by as we pull into the shelter parking lot.
Watson spots us the second we walk in. Our beagle—ours, because somehow that has happened—lets out an excited howl, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole body.
He doesn’t react that way with anyone else. Just us.
We slip into the routine of figuring out who’s responsible for what.
I start on the cages, checking latches and refilling water bowls while Alex moves down the row beside me, quieter but just as focused.
The kennels run along both sides of the room, with metal doors and concrete floors.
The faint smell of disinfectant and wet fur grounds me.
It's familiar, reminding me why I've always loved being here.
Now and then, I feel him glance my way, not enough to interrupt me, but just enough that I notice.
We work for a while, side by side, doing what needs to be done.
When I reach Watson’s kennel, I crouch and unclip the latch.
He’s out the second the door opens. Watson nudges his way between us.
He’s had enough of being ignored, letting out a low whine until I laugh.
“Okay, okay,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears.
He leans into me, tail wagging hard, then moves toward Alex, pressing against his leg just as insistently.
“Traitor,” I say lightly, glancing up.
Alex lets out a resigned breath that almost sounds like a sigh, the tension loosening from his chest. His hand brushes briefly against my shoulder as Watson pushes closer between us.
The touch is quick, barely there, but I still notice.
I’ve always felt it with Alex—his closeness, his look, and his touch that I crave more than I want to admit.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out, wondering who it could be. Chelsea. I hesitate for a second before opening the message.
I’m sorry about earlier.
I shouldn’t have reacted like that at the library.
I hope you can forgive me.
My fingers tighten slightly around the phone, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
Beside me, Alex turns his attention to me. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I nod, even though I haven’t answered yet. “Yeah, it’s just Chelsea.”
There’s a brief pause. “What does she want?” he asks, his voice remaining even-toned.
“Just…apologizing.” Another pause, longer this time, before he asks.
“Are you going to answer her?”
I glance up at him. There’s nothing obvious in his expression. Nothing I can point to. But it feels like the answer I give him matters.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “She was pretty brutal in the library when she said all those awful things, but…” I trail off, thinking about all the fun times we had over the years, until this year changed, and everything turned to shit.
His gaze holds mine for a second longer than it should.
“Take your time thinking about it,” he says. “After what she said to you, she can at least offer you that.”
“Maybe,” I say, nodding slowly, even though it doesn't feel nearly that simple.
I look back down at my phone. Chelsea's apology waits on the screen. I read it over one more time, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I type, delete, then type again, but nothing feels right.
It's okay. I get it.
I stare at the words. They feel too easy, too dismissive of the hurt that's still sitting heavy in my chest. With a sigh, I erase them and try again.
I just need a little time.
That feels more honest, even if it still doesn't capture everything. I need time to come to terms with how easily she cut me down, without a second thought for how deeply her words would wound me.
I hesitate, my finger hovering over the send button.
For a second, I’m aware of everything at once: the quiet around us, Watson moving beside me, and Alex somewhere just behind me.
Watson’s head turns, his head tilted sideways, and one ear is flipped back as he looks toward the doorway.
Alex watches him, too. I inhale slowly and tap the screen, just as the front door opens.
The sound cuts through the silence of the room, causing me to glance up instinctively. I freeze.
Chelsea stands before me just inside the doorway, looking uncertain whether she should’ve come in at all. Her eyes find mine almost immediately. The silence stretches between us, strained with apprehension and everything left unresolved between us.
“Rose,” she says, a little breathless as she hurries in.
I straighten slowly, my phone in my hand. “You’re here.” It comes out more surprised than I mean it to.
“I just didn’t know if you’d answer,” she says, glancing down at my phone, then up at me. “So I just…” She trails off.
Behind me, I feel Alex stiffen. He doesn’t move, just appears more present, as I turn back and find him watching our exchange.
“I got your message,” I say, holding her gaze.
Chelsea nods quickly. “Yeah.” She stops, fidgets on her feet before continuing.
“I didn’t want to leave it this way between us.
” Another pause. And I notice how everything feels a little too awkward.
Chelsea looks around and glances past me for a second before returning her focus to me.
“Can we talk? Outside?” Her voice is softer now.
Careful in the ease with which she speaks as she looks to Alex and back again. I don’t like it. I hesitate.
Behind me, Watson let out a low, sudden bark. It cuts through the room, sharp enough to make Chelsea flinch.
“Watson,” I murmur, turning slightly. “Hey.” I crouch, reaching for him.
He leans into my hand at first, but the tension in him doesn’t ease.
When I stroke behind his ears, he lets out a small, uneasy whimper instead.
“It’s something he does, Chelsea. Don’t worry.
Sometimes he's protective.” I frown slightly, glancing between him and Chelsea.
“It’s okay,” I say, more to him than to anyone else. He doesn’t seem convinced.
I straighten, standing, looking at Alex. He nods, understanding. “Go,” Alex says, as he grabs Watson by his collar.
“Just give me a minute,” I say, mostly to Alex, even if I don’t turn to look at him. Then I follow Chelsea outside.
The air is colder than I expect it to be, or maybe it’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me.
I wait in silence for her to speak because she is the one who came here, and she clearly has something she came here to tell me.
Chelsea doesn’t say anything right away.
She wraps her arms around herself, pacing once trying to figure out where to start.
“I’m really sorry,” she says finally. Her voice breaks a little on the last word. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. At the library. I was out of line.”
I watch her, unsure what to say just yet.
She wipes at her eyes, but it doesn’t stop the tears.
“I just—” She exhales shakily. “I wasn’t thinking.
I got it in my head and took it out on you, and that’s not fair.
” Her words come out faster now, like she’s been holding them in.
“You didn’t deserve that, Rose. You’ve never deserved that. ”
Something in my chest softens because Chelsea had always been the kind one, the one who’s impossible to dislike or be mad at.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” she adds, softer this time.
Part of me wants to hold on to my anger. I should. What she said at the library still hurts, and I know an apology can't erase that. But standing here, watching the tears spill down her face, it's hard to believe she ever meant to hurt me.
That does it, and I cave. Letting out a slow breath, and some of the tension I didn’t realize I was holding starts to slip away. “It’s okay, Chels,” I say, more gently now. And I mean it, or at least I think I do.
She lets out a slow exhale and something inside her finally loosens in relief.
“Okay,” she says, smiling as she brushes away tears from her eyes.
“I’m heading to my parents’ for our Thanksgiving break, but…
I’ll see you next week, before winter break, yeah?
” There’s something hopeful in the way she says it, like she needs me to corroborate.
I don’t hesitate. “Of course,” I tell her.
I hold her a second longer before finally letting go.
I need to remember what it’s like to have another person in my corner.
When I let go, she doesn’t stay any longer.
She’s already said what she came to say.
Chelsea turns quickly, hurries to her car, slips inside, and within seconds she’s gone, pulling away in one smooth motion.
I watch her go, my hand in a half-wave, even after she’s already disappearing past the entrance, some part of me believing she sees it.
Then the car is gone, and the stillness is the only thing that remains.
I stay here for a second, thinking about everything she said.
It wasn’t a long conversation, but it felt like more than that.
She already knew what to say, and none of it surprised her. It doesn’t sit right with me.
I turn and start back toward the shelter, but the thought follows me with every step.
How did she even know I was here? I glance back at the lot without thinking.
Alex’s car is the only one out there. The realization slowly creeps in.
She didn’t just happen to see me. Did someone tell her I’d be here?
She came here knowing that I’d already be here, but she didn’t mention how.
The question remains the more I think about it. Is my life that predictable?
I reach the door, my hand hovering over the handle as I try to brush it off, telling myself it doesn’t matter, and I’m overthinking it. But it doesn't go away.