30. Rose
Rose
After twenty-four long hours of observation in the hospital, Rose received approval to be discharged.
Between the steady stream of nurses and the constant checks from her mom and Kirin, she wasn’t sure she’d slept at all.
They’d barely left her side, and even when they did, it was never for more than a few minutes.
Kirin’s refusal to leave her for longer than a trip to the bathroom or cafeteria was probably the only reason her mom agreed to rest once they made it back.
He’d offered one of the spare rooms at Leon’s place to her mom for however long she wanted to stay in town.
And after several reassurances that he wouldn’t leave Rose alone, she finally relented.
Fortunately, she’d been in Missouri hunting their junk yards for pieces and driven straight through after his call, reaching Kismet in record time.
Rose doubted she’d slept more than a handful of hours in the last couple of days and was quietly grateful Leon’s house—and Kirin’s steady presence—gave her mom a reason to stop fighting exhaustion and get some much-needed rest.
Rose gave Kirin a weak smile as he held open the door to St. James Sweets.
She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her own bed, but she needed real food—something that didn’t come on a hospital tray.
This was their compromise. He guided her to the same booth they’d sat in to plan their project, and she gave him another faint smile as she slid carefully onto the worn vinyl.
Her body ached from head to toe. The bruises had darkened overnight, her arms throbbed beneath the braces, every moment came with pain and discomfort, and her shoulders still burned from being bent out of position.
Doctors had ruled out a severe concussion or swelling, so her stay had been mostly precautionary, but the soreness left her feeling hollowed out.
“I’m gonna order,” Kirin said softly. “What do you want to drink?”
His fingers brushed hair from her face, the gentleness of the touch making her throat tighten. She leaned into it, wanting to prolong the feel of his skin against hers. The knowledge that he was within arm’s reach left her feeling less exposed.
“A Whole Latte Heartbreak,” she murmured. “The one you brought to the library.”
“Of course.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on her forehead before walking to the counter.
She sank deeper into the booth, every muscle heavy and aware. Her eyes fluttered shut—trying to find a moment of rest only for that familiar prickle to crawl up her spine. She opened them and found Margot, her old captain, standing near the table.
“Margot.” Rose’s voice came out rougher than she meant.
She edged back against the booth, instantly wary.
If they were going to come after her or berate her over Preston, she wasn’t in the mood.
And a glance past her former captain proved Margot wasn’t alone.
Her best friends, Ali and Gwen, hovered just behind her.
What few nerves remained were ready to jump out of her skin.
A quick breath in had her steadying her voice enough—forcing calm, indifferent tones into it—that it didn’t shake. “Ali, Gwen. What are you doing here?”
Margot’s hand rose to her mouth, her fingers tracing over her cheek as if she could feel Rose’s injuries on her own skin. “My gosh, your face…” Her gaze dropped to Rose’s braced arms. “Did Preston break your arms?”
“He’s done worse,” Rose said evenly. She watched Ali and Gwen shift and tried not to enjoy their discomfort. When nobody spoke up, Rose sighed. “What do you want?”
They still didn’t answer right away. Ali and Gwen hovered close to Margot instead of flanking her as they used to. Margot, oddly, looked smaller somehow—shoulders slouched, arms crossed, eyes dulled. Rose had never seen her like that.
Ali glanced around the cafe, nervous and defensive, just as Kirin appeared at the table with their order.
He placed the drinks down, sliding the plates onto the table with practiced ease.
He didn’t spare a glance at her former teammates, but kept his body between them and her.
His posture was protective without being overt.
“Friends of yours?” he asked, tone calm as he stepped a little closer to them, ensuring there was space for her to leave the booth behind him if needed.
The sight of him—solid, protective, but quietly watchful and aware—made Rose’s chest ache. Is it possible to love this man any more?
Margot flinched as Kirin approached, retreating half a step. Gwen eased in front of her, lifting a hand. “We used to play with Rose,” she explained. “At Westmont.”
“I know who you are,” Kirin said. The words were mild, but his voice carried steel.
That was a surprise. She knew he didn’t look into his own opponents, so why he would know her previous team at a glance was a mystery.
He cared about the data and how he could use it to his advantage more than their social lives.
“It’s okay,” Rose murmured as she reached out to brush her fingers over the back of his arm. His hand turned, catching her fingers with his own and holding them gently. “They just want to talk, right?”
When Ali nodded, her eyes steady on Kirin, Rose waved toward the open seats.
Gwen slid into the booth first, followed by a reluctant Margot and then Ali, her gaze still on Kirin as he took the seat opposite her.
Only then did Ali’s gaze shift more toward the wall of windows, still defensive.
Much the same way Rose had been until recently—that was another shock.
To realize for the first time in far too long, she wasn’t facing the windows.
She’d taken the seat with her back to the entrance.
“We were actually looking for you,” Gwen said, breaking Rose out of her thoughts. “We owe you an apology.”
“Oh.” Rose dropped a hand under the table, finding Kirin’s waiting palm. He squeezed her fingers three times in a silent—I’m here. She exhaled.
Ali cleared her throat, her eyes shifting to their table for a split second. “Preston came to our place that night. He said you left with another guy to make him jealous.”
Of course, he did.
It wasn’t a surprise—Preston always needed a story to make himself the victim.
And they would have served as an alibi if anyone had come around to verify her statement.
He was always covering his own ass and throwing everyone else to the wolves.
Her stomach twisted. He’d truly planned out the whole night.
Rose glanced between them. “My mom said you came to the hospital. You saw what he did. You knew I wasn’t exaggerating. Did you think I did that to myself?”
Ali winced; Gwen looked away. Margot stayed silent, her face pale and distant.
“His hands were clean when he got to our place,” Ali offered weakly. “We figured it was someone else, probably the guy he said you left with, and you were framing Preston to get back at him.”
She almost snorted. It was just as easy to grab her head and slam it into things, or throw her down some stairs. Or kick her. He’d never risk injuring his hands. The memory pressed sharp and cold against her ribs. She blinked hard to push it back and looked at Margot again.
“He turned on you, didn’t he?”
Margot froze. The question hung between them, and then she nodded once, barely.
Rose saw it all—the slump of her shoulders, the quiet shame, the exhaustion that lived in her eyes. It was the same way she’d looked in the mirror a year ago.
“This isn’t your fault,” Rose said softly, leaning forward despite the ache in her body. “Do you hear me? You did nothing wrong.”
“You don’t even—”
“Margot.” Rose’s voice was firm. “You did nothing to deserve it. Not the hits. Not the manipulation. Not the way he cut you down into pieces. None of it.”
Margot’s eyes filled. When Rose reached across the table, she flinched but didn’t pull away. After a beat, her hand came up to clutch Rose’s. Pain flared up Rose’s arm and into her shoulder, bright and electric. She hissed out a breath, her jaw clenching as she tried to hide her flinch.
“Careful,” Kirin said quietly, his voice a low growl. Margot released her at once, whispering an apology.
Rose forced her breathing steady. Kirin’s hand found the back of her neck, grounding her, his forehead resting against her temple.
“Breathe, Flower,” he whispered near her ear.
“Slow, deep breaths. In and out.” She followed his rhythm until the pounding in her head eased.
“One more time. Good job,” he encouraged. “We’ll get you home soon.”
“I’m pressing charges,” Margot said, voice shaking but clear. “That’s what I came to tell you.”
Rose blinked. “You’re—what?”
“My attorney is just waiting for approval to file. I wanted to talk to you first. I didn’t want to blindside you.
I also didn’t want him to know it was coming, so this was the best opening.
Now I’m wishing I’d just told them to do it.
Then you wouldn’t be—” She bit her lips and looked away.
“This wouldn’t have happened to you if I’d been braver. If I’d believed you last year.”
Margot swallowed as Rose struggled to think through the shock. Her voice steadied as she said, “My lawyers have looked into your case, watched all the appeals for his breaking the protective order appear and then get buried. There’s a lot of evidence, Rose.”
The air went still. Rose’s pulse fluttered painfully against her ribs.
“He’s been reckless since Kirin posted that photo.” Margot looked at Kirin for a second, a sad smile pulling at her mouth like she knew he blamed himself just like she did, then back at Rose. “He went insane when you posted yours, though. It’s enough to establish a pattern of intent.”
Rose’s throat went dry. “You think it’ll stick?”