Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Rose
The unease doesn't fade. If anything, it grows, forming into something restless that grips the edges of my thoughts until I can't ignore it anymore. The question forms before I can stop it.
“If you thought it was him—” I begin, my voice faltering slightly, the question catching somewhere in my throat. I hesitate, not wanting to accuse them of something I don’t fully understand, but desperately needing an answer all the same. “Why didn’t you do anything?”
Vic’s grip tightens, his knuckles whiting around the mug, before seeming to calm himself. His gaze drops, just for a second. He’s choosing his next words. Maybe even debating how much of the truth he wants to disclose. Then he looks back up at me.
“I said something,” he answers, but the look on his face is haunted.
Dani looks up at her husband, her expression softening at the way he tries to form his next words.
“Not like that,” he continues. “You don’t just throw accusations around without proof.
Not against someone from his family or with the kind of money they had. ”
“So what did you say?” I press, unable to let it go.
“I told a professor something felt off,” he says. “That the disappearances didn’t make sense. There was always a common denominator involved in this equation. That there was usually an answer to every problem, and this pattern felt like it was leading back to one person.”
“And?”
Vic exhales slowly, something barely restrained in the sound. “I was told to let it go. That I was reading too much into it, that girls leave. That it happens.”
The silence stretches thin between us. It doesn’t sit right with me.
I shake my head, something squeezing around my chest. “That’s it?” I question, no longer keeping the edge out of it. “You just accepted that?”
“We didn’t accept it,” she says gently, looking at Vic. “I wasn’t around at the time. Vic was in medical school. I learned about this all later, but it bothered Vic enough to tell me about it. We never had proof before.”
“But you stopped pushing,” I counter. “If you thought something was wrong—if you really believed it, why let it go?”
Vic’s expression hardens. “Because belief isn’t enough,” he says, but I don’t look away.
“It should be,” I whisper, and I don’t think we are talking about Dr. Somersworth any longer. For a moment, no one speaks.
He nods. “It should be,” he agrees.
“But it isn’t.” I swallow, as the knot in my stomach only tightens. “So what’s changed?” I ask finally, “Why now?”
Dani looks at her husband, and her lips twitch into the faintest smile, prompting one from him in return. Only she has that effect on him.
“Because we aren’t those helpless kids anymore, and we are no longer guessing. We don’t need proof.”
“And now,” Dani adds, “we aren’t going to be ignored.”
The conversation turns from something distant and theoretical from the past into something immediate, folding into the present and what could happen now.
“Did he touch her?” he asks, looking at Alex. His voice is lower now, edged with something dangerous. I see Dani lean forward in her seat, inching closer like proximity might give her a better read on the situation.
“No,” I answer instead, and his obsidian eyes snap back to me. The intensity of his stare should scare me, but it doesn’t. Because I know without question he would do anything to protect his family. And for reasons I’m still trying to understand, they have chosen to make me a part of it.
“If he does—”
“He won’t,” Alex cuts in, the word leaving no more room for question. Our eyes lock, and he must see something in mine that must be different, because he pauses, really looking at me.
Then he nods once. “Good.” His attention moves to Alex. “You take care of her.”
It’s not a question, but a command. Alex doesn’t argue. He simply reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine before lifting it to his lips, pressing a brief, deliberate kiss to my skin before placing it back into his lap. He doesn’t need to say anything else.
Dr. Flores exhales slowly. “Don’t wait until something worse happens,” he says. “Handle it.” He walks away as if that’s the end of it, and he didn’t just hand Alex over something that felt like an order or an expectation.
We sit there for a moment longer as Dani casts one last look our way before following her husband out of the kitchen.
“Well, that was something,” Ezra says, dragging a hand through his untamed hair.
“I feel maybe I’ve missed a whole entire conversation before I got here,” I say.
Alex pushes back from his chair and moves to the coffee maker, grabbing me a mug and pouring me a cup without me asking.
Like it’s something he’s done forever, he brings it over, placing it in my hands, and I take it with a small, grateful smile, lifting it to my lips.
The familiar gesture makes me feel cared for in a way I haven't in a long time.
He presses a quick kiss to the top of my head before dropping back into his seat, reaching for his own mug as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
“It was nothing,” he says, returning to my question. “My dad was just getting the full story after Ezra here filled him in about everything that happened at the restaurant we went to for my birthday.” He pauses. “And then with the dean.”
I turn to Ezra, giving him my best look of disappointment. He just grins and shrugs, completely unbothered.
“Nope, not going to work on me. Especially,” he adds, pushing up from his chair and moving closer to us, “when it comes to your safety. Uncle Vic would castrate me. Or at least try until someone scarier—my mom—steps in to save her future unborn grandbabies. Then all bets are off.”
Alex laughs, and I glance over at him. He lifts his mug slightly. “It’s true, you know. Aunt Evie’s the scariest of the bunch. And that’s saying something.”
“Great,” I mutter, “Can’t wait to meet everyone.”
Ezra waggles his finger, patting my shoulder as he moves toward the door. “It’s funny you say that,” he calls over his shoulder, “because we’re going out with everyone tonight, so be prepared.” He laughs as he leaves the kitchen.
The kitchen empties slowly, but the weight of everything that was said lingers long after Vic and Dani disappear down the hall and Ezra heads for the door.
Nothing feels finished. If anything, it feels like the beginning of something worse.
Alex's hand remains wrapped around mine as he leads me down the hallway without a word.
I follow without question until we're alone, the door clicking softly shut behind us.
“I wanted a minute alone with you,” he admits. We stand there looking at one another, and I can feel the warmth of him, with the unrelenting pull that seems to exist between us. And for a moment, I let myself stay in it. I let myself forget everything as I lean into him. Until—
The doorbell rings. The sound is sharp and jarring, announcing something more than this intrusion into our private moment alone.
I stiffen, already feeling the loss of him as he steps away, the moment broken.
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated just as I am.
His forehead comes to rest against mine.
“Of course,” he mutters. Another ring, this one sounding more insistent.
He pulls back reluctantly, his hand finding mine again as we walk back down the hall.
Dani reaches the door before we do, pulling it open.
I don’t think anything of it. Well, not at first anyway.
Not until we step into view and I see her standing there.
The unwanted memory hits me fast and is impossible to ignore. Lizah.
The day I first met Alex, this mousy girl with the pink hair came bouncing down the stairs from Alex’s room, and out the door, taking his lingering scent with her.
It felt wrong and angered me for no reason at the time.
My steps falter just slightly. He sees what I do, and his hand tightens around mine immediately, thinking I’m going to let go, to take off running.
Lizah’s eyes lift and find his first. Then they land on me.
The room stills as Dani steps aside. “She’s asking for you.”
The tension is thick between us, and for a moment, no one moves.
It becomes awkward, and the more I try to release Alex’s hand, his hold becomes tighter.
Lizah hovers uneasily at the door. This isn’t my fight to stand in the middle of.
I release his hands before he can stop me, stepping aside.
He looks at me then, and there’s hesitation. A question.
I offer him a small smile. “It’s okay,” I murmur, feeling braver than I am.
My hand brushes his arm briefly. “You should go talk to her,” I encourage softly before stepping back just enough.
His eyes widen, and his hand lifts, wanting to reach for me, but I shake my head.
“Go,” I say, finally letting my attention drift to her.
She rocks slightly on her feet, her hands twisting together, probably second-guessing why she came in the first place.
But I know. She came here expecting nothing had changed between them. How long had this been going on?
“Hi,” Lizah says softly.
Alex blows out a breath forcefully. “Hey.”
“I didn’t know who else to come to,” she says, her voice rising in pitch.
“What’s going on?” Alex asks, his head tilting in confusion.
Lizah hesitates. “I think there’s someone following me.” Her voice drops as if whoever it is can hear her above a whisper.
I look over there, but there’s no one there. Alex is still beside me, his focus sharpening in an instant.
Lizah doesn’t stop there. Her eyes flick to his, lingering there this time. Besides fear moving through her, there’s something else: familiarity as she moves toward him, seeking his comfort. She thinks nothing has changed.
Alex doesn’t move toward her, though. He doesn’t close the distance. Instead, he asks, “What do you mean by following you?” His arms cross over his chest, someone attempting to guard the organ that beats underneath, and only for me.
“I didn’t see who it was,” she admits. “Not exactly.”
No one says anything as Alex attempts to understand her motive for coming here, and if it’s all coincidental or just a ploy to garner his attention, when it’s no longer there.
“It’s a car,” she continues. “Same one that has been outside my apartment building.” Her voice drops even lower. “I swear it followed me here. I don’t think it’s random.”
Alex’s fists tighten. “When did it start?”
Her eyes look to me, then away. “Last night.” She pauses, but decides to choose her words. “I came over to see if you were here yet, but no one was home, and I knew you’d be coming home for break. You always do.”
Alex doesn’t react to her words, at least not the way she hopes he would. “You should report it,” he finally says. Practical.
“To who?” she asks, a little too quickly for my liking.
“Police. Give them a description of the car and the times it happened. Give them every detail you can think of.” He leans back slightly. His eyes narrow just a fraction. “Anyone you can think of that might do this? Someone who might have a reason to be around your place?”
Lizah hesitates, but confesses. “My ex. But I don’t know. He’s never done anything like this before.”
“I think you shouldn’t ignore it,” he advises. “I would definitely report it.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, but she just stands there waiting, like she thinks she has unfinished business with him.
Then he closes the distance between us instead. His hands find mine again. “Lizah,” he says, his tone controlled, “this is Rose.” His words are simple, but the way he delivers them is anything but. The introduction is intentional. “My girlfriend.”
I offer her a polite, measured smile along with a little wave of my fingertips. “Hi.”
She looks briefly at our joined hands. “Hi,” she echoes coldly. Something in her expression changes as the earlier familiarity toward Alex dims. She seems more uncertain, but definitely more aware.
Alex doesn’t let go of my hand, and doesn’t step back, leaving no room for misinterpretation this time. And since the time she first walked in, the space between us feels clearly defined. A line drawn that won’t be crossed again.
Without anything else left to say, the door closes behind her with a soft click.
Alex lets go of my hand, not completely, but enough so that he can step closer.
His fingers slide over my wrist before settling at my waist, drawing me in, and closer to him.
“Hey,” he murmurs, softer now. I look up at him, my breath catches slightly at how close he is.
And how everything else fades when he looks at me like that. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, but it’s not entirely true. It’s not because of her either. Not really. “It’s not like that,” I say softly. My fingers curl lightly, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. “It’s just…everything,” I admit.
His hand tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, flush with him. My arms wrap around his neck. “I know,” he says, his breath fanning my forehead, as he kisses me there.
I bury my face against his shirt, as I hesitate for a second, and then let it slip out before I overthink it. “She still looks at you…” I trail off, unsure of how to finish it before sounding like someone I don’t want to be. Jealous. Insecure. Insignificant. He doesn’t make me say it.
“I noticed,” he says as one hand leaves my waist, lifting my chin to look up at him. “You want me to lie?” he asks.
I shake my head immediately. “No.”
“Then don’t look away when you say things like that,” he murmurs. “She came here to hook up with me. It’s something we did, until that day I met you. I can’t change the past, Rose, but I don’t want to lie to you. Ever,” he says, and the conviction on his face makes me believe him.
I search for something, anything that might contradict his words.
I don’t find it. “Not anymore,” he adds.
“We may have had sex, but that was it. I never even kissed her. There was nothing romantic about it. It was simply two people satisfying a physical urge. I have only had those feelings for you. Kissed you.” He meets my lips.
“Made love to you.” He kisses me again, deepening it and pulling away too soon for my liking.
“You don’t have to give me space for anyone ever, because only you will ever have my heart.
” His hand skirts along my jawline. “You’re mine to stand next to, baby,” he says.
My heart stutters, but this time I keep my feet firmly planted. Right where I belong. Because standing beside him was always where I was meant to end up.