Chapter 14
Rosalie
The world was spinning. Not in a pleasant, dreamlike way, but in a harsh, disorienting swirl of fever and fatigue.
It was horrible. I couldn’t remember the last time I was ever this sick.
Every surface felt too hard, every sound too loud, every movement took too much effort.
My body ached. Every breath I took felt like I was climbing a mountain on a steep incline.
My throat burned, a constant fiery reminder of each cough that clawed its way out of my throat.
Leaving me breathless and weak. Each coughing fit left me gasping for air.
My head was spinning. I felt weak, so incredibly weak.
Ugh, please make it end.
I was curled up in my sea of blankets and pillows. The familiar dampness of the stone walls was comforting.
Drifting in and out of sleep, I felt Silas hovering nearby. His presence is a gentle warmth against the chill of the basement. He was always there, a quiet reassurance in the suffocating silence.
“Rosie?” Silas called out, his voice soft and laced with concern. His voice was so soothing.
I tried to answer, but the effort was too great. A soft whimper drifted from my lips instead. Silas sat at my side, his eyes filled with worry and concern. Unfiltered emotion he couldn’t hide. He wasn’t scared of me—no. He was scared for me. And at that moment, I realized what love really was.
“You need to drink something Rosie, you haven’t touched your water,” he said softly, placing two bags between us.
One with the general store logo, and the other was Panera.
I smiled weakly. His hand slid to my forehead; his fingers were cool against my burning skin.
I found comfort in his touch. “I bought Panera. Soup, a sandwich, a brownie, and a smoothie… but no brownie until you’ve had some actual nourishment first.”
He knew me so well.
“You need to take some medicine too but… you can’t on an empty stomach so let’s try to get something in you, okay?” Silas shifted, raising my head.
I nodded, allowing him to support me.
Silas brought the cup of ice water to my lips for me to take a few sips. Then came a few spoonfuls of the broccoli cheddar soup, meant to help restore my strength. It was warm and soothing against the rawness of my throat.
He is so sweet. So careful… so caring.
Silas watched me intently as I slowly consumed the soup bite after bite.
The rich, salty flavor lingered on my tongue.
Occasionally, he offered me small bites of my sandwich, and alternated between the smoothie and water.
I struggled to focus. I knew that he was telling me stories—his voice was so soothing—yet I kept fading in and out of what he was saying.
My heart fluttered in my chest as Silas reached to brush my damp locks away from my face.
His touch was gentle, his fingers lingering longer than necessary.
I could feel the rough calluses on his fingers.
He was so hard-working, so devoted, so pretty.
“Good girl…that’s it,” Silas cooed.
I ate most of my food. At least, I think I did.
He gently rested my head back against the pillow.
Fumbling through the bags, he pulled out the various medicines he purchased, and proceeded to carefully help me take one after the other.
Afterwards, he disposed of the trash in one bag, placing the various medicines on my nightstand, and then pulled out his own food.
I don’t know if he knew I noticed how he prioritized me over himself.
He let out a soft breath. “You’re still burning up…
I think we should take off your nightgown and put Vicks on your chest… if you’re okay with that.”
Of course I was okay with that; he had seen me naked before when he helped me bathe the other day. Anything to make me feel better. I nodded.
“Are you sure?” he repeated for confirmation.
I nodded a second time.
What a gentleman…
Silas helped me sit up with a tender touch; my head rested against his shoulder as his fingers grabbed for the bottom of my nightgown.
Slowly pulling it up and over my head, my bare chest pressed against his frame, he hugged me, his fingers grazing my spine before lying me back down.
It felt good, the cool air against my skin.
No longer trapped in sweaty silk. His face turned a deep shade of red, gazing at my breasts.
He was looking at my nipple piercings—I knew it.
People often made the assumption ballerinas couldn't have certain piercings but that wasn't true.
I took my piercings out for practice or taped them depending on how long I would be dancing.
I was surprised he didn't ask about them.
I half smiled only to close my eyes. Feeling the gentleness of his touch as he rubbed the Vicks on my chest, it was already easier to breathe. He was so tender, so loving.
I saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice.
He loved me.
He really, really loved me.
“I swear to you, Rosie… I won’t let anything happen to you.
You’ll feel better in no time,” Silas promised, his voice thick with emotion.
I opened my eyes to look at him to see he was already looking at me.
I knew he meant what he said. He lifted the sheet to cover me again, planting a soft kiss against my forehead.
He pulled away long enough to get a bowl of cold water.
Placing it on the nightstand, he submerged a fresh washcloth, ringing it out before dabbing my skin with it.
I nodded at his words. Leaning into his touch, I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep again.
Occasionally seeing flashes of his face, he was always right there beside me.
I wish I would’ve realized sooner. I wish I would’ve noticed him before he resorted to thinking I would only be safe here, away from the rest of the world.
I was too sick to think much of it for now.
Silas leaned over, closer to my face. “Shhh, you’re alright… I’m here.” He took my hand, lifting it and kissing my knuckles. Slowly, he placed my hand back down, still holding it.
“I… love… you,” I whispered.
He smiled, gripping my hand the slightest bit tighter. “I love you too, my sweet Rosie.”
I knew he would take care of me.
The corners of my lips lifted into a smile.
“Rest,” he whispered, planting a soft kiss against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes again—I drifted off to sleep.