“Did he force you, baby?”
She shook her head. “No. I-I hurt my ankle.” She launched into telling me everything, from the moment she was taken to the moment before we arrived.
“So it was the wrong drugs he gave you?” I asked.
She nodded miserably. “I-I know it’s bad. The guys will leave. You’ll leave?—”
I cradled her face gently.
“I will never leave you, Rosalie,” I whispered, resting my forehead against hers. “Never think I will. Nothing in this world will ever drive me away from you.”
“Really?”
“On my life,” I said softly, kissing my wedding ring on her finger. “It sucks. But I know you. You wouldn’t have done that on your own.”
“You fo-forgive me?”
I wiped her tears. “There is nothing to forgive. It was just a bad fucking thing to happen.”
“Evan, my shot. I was supposed to get it the day after I got back from the tour.”
I swallowed hard at the implications.
“It’ll be OK,” I said softly, hugging her to me. “It’ll be OK. If you’re pregnant, we will raise the baby just like Ellis. We wanted another one anyway.”
She nodded, sniffling.
“Don’t cry, my sweet Ro. I promise it’ll be OK.”
“I have to tell the guys.”
“Rest. I’ll talk to them.”
“It should be me.”
“Let me do this for you,” I murmured. “I want you to rest. We leave tomorrow.”
“What if they walk out?—”
“They won’t,” I said fiercely.
“How do you know?—”
I kissed her lips to silence her. “Because they love you as I love you.”
I pushed her gently back onto the bed.
“Sleep.”
She breathed out, and I wiped her tears away.
“I love you more than anything in this world, Rosie,” I whispered, kissing her once more.
“You never call me that anymore,” she choked out.
“You are always going to be mine. My Rosie.” I pulled away from her and tucked her in. I could tell she was exhausted. She likely lay awake all night, worrying.
She let her eyelids fall closed, and when her breathing turned deep and even, I left to go to the living room.
