Chapter 21 Rosalie
ROSALIE
My eyes train forward, watching the road and refusing to look back. I don’t want to see the hurt in Jackson’s eyes, or the pain I put there. Because if I do, I might be tempted to turn this car around.
It doesn’t matter, though. This is real life, and I can’t be with someone like Jackson Wilder.
He doesn’t want more. Not really. Sure, maybe we could have drawn out our sexcapades, but for what?
For it to hurt more later when he realizes my real life is not at all like this last week, and I’m left to pick up the pieces?
No, thank you. I’d rather be the one to end things on my terms. If we try to make this work, it will only get more complicated. I’ll only get more attached.
I’m making sure that doesn’t happen.
I’m alone. Just like I want.
So, why does this feel like the last thing I want?
Why does doing the right thing feel so fucking wrong?
I wish things were different. I wish he wanted a family.
Or rather, I wish I could be the woman I’ve been all week in my real life.
The person who he grew to want around for more than a few nights.
But he doesn’t want me. Not the real me.
This is a facade, and Jackson doesn’t know who I am.
No one does. I’m not brave enough to allow anyone to ever get that close.
I think of his face when I told him thank you, this had been fun.
My words cut him. Caused him the exact pain I was desperate to avoid. Hurt crossed his face as they landed. I should feel relief in what I did, but I don’t. Fuck. My eyes fill with tears.
I don’t know exactly how, but this week Jackson managed to climb the carefully constructed walls around my heart. If I stay another night, I am at risk of him demolishing them all altogether.
If I let him, that man will break my heart.
And where will I be then?
I pull to the side of the road, the ache in my chest building to the point I can hardly breathe. I can’t think about Jackson right now. I need to figure out what’s next. I didn’t leave with a plan; I ran because I couldn’t stay. But now what?
These are the moments I wish I had family. Someone to call and cry it out with. Someone who would tell me to come home, and offer a safe place to land, just long enough to regroup.
It really sucks when you don’t have that.
No one gets it, not unless they’ve experienced it themselves.
I’ve made my own way, and I’m proud of that.
But sometimes, I want someone else to help carry the weight of the world.
I blink back my tears and text the only person who might be able to assist with my current predicament—and stay quiet about it.
Me: Hey, I need a huge favor with the caveat that we never talk about this and you never tell anyone.
My phone rings within seconds.
“Asher.” I try to keep the emotion from my voice, but I don’t succeed.
“Hey, gorgeous. Tell me where the body is.”
“That’d be an easier problem to solve.”
“Okay, what do you need?”
Do you have a magic potion that stops a person from falling in love? That’s what I should ask. Instead, I focus on the more imperative issue. “Any chance I can crash at your place tonight?”
“Mi casa es tu casa,” he sing-songs.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“Mum’s the word. You head over whenever you need and make yourself at home. I’m out tonight, so feel free to take my bed. There are clean sheets in the hall.”
Bless him. “You’re a lifesaver. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, let me know.”
“It’s all good, babe.” He laughs. “Honestly, you keeping my plants company for the night is enough.”
“Where are you going?”
“If I can’t ask questions, neither can you.”
“Fair.” Despite the knot in the pit of my stomach, I smile.
“Are you heading over now?” he asks.
“I’ll be there in fifteen. If that’s okay?”
“Of course. There’s a key hidden on the back porch under Pierre. I’ll text you a photo so you can find it.” Asher names all his plants.
“Thank you.” The band of worry around my chest loosens enough to catch my breath. “I appreciate this more than you know.”
“We’re family in this town. We take care of each other.”
Tears prick my eyes and I nod, even though he can’t see. This town, this found family, they’re more than I’ve ever had. So often, I operate as if I’m an island. I don’t let people in. I’m not easy to love. I’m not easy to get to know. But maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone as I feel.