Page 3 of I’ll Find You

At the corner of the house, she glances back over her shoulder, and our eyes meet one last time. Only then do I wonder which promise she meant. Maybe I'll see you around. Nothing little about me. Or maybe both. She lifts a hand in a small wave before slipping into the back seat of the waiting car. Someone shifts over to make room for her, then glances up. I meet the stare of the man beside her. His eyes narrow on me for the briefest moment before his attention returns to Rose.

As the car pulls away, I remain in the doorway, my forehead resting against the cool glass of the storm door, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened. I've never chased after anyone. I've never cared enough to. Yet somehow, in the span of a few minutes, she'd unraveled every certainty I'd had about myself.

The engine’s rumble fades into silence, yet I don’t move—a challenge thrown. And I accepted, damned or nothing at all.

In the glass of the front door, I lift my head to see my reflection staring back. Shadowed eyes. A steady heartbeat. Composed. On the surface, I look exactly the same. But I can still smell her perfume, sweet and sharp and true to her name, just like a rose. So beautiful, yet guarded by thorns that protect the softness within. I hear my parents approaching as they walk out of the kitchen, their faces wearing knowing smiles.

“You are so fucked,” Dad says with a laugh as he reaches for Mom's hand and leads her toward the stairs.

She laughs beside him. “Alex, finish packing up these boxes, please. I need to help your father with something,” she says. Dad tries, but fails to stifle a laugh.

“Gross!” I call after them. “I don’t want to know!” The bedroom door clicks shut behind them.

My parents’ laughter drifts down the stairs, but all I can hear are Rose’s departing words. “Maybe I’ll see you around…little Alex.” Her voice echoes through the empty doorway, flooding my mind, thick and viscous as blood. I close my eyes and watch the words spill from her bloodred lips, each syllable clinging to me like a curse long after it’s been spoken—my sin and salvation in equal measure. The taste is bittersweet, smoke gathering on my tongue before slipping past my lips and curling into the air like a lover’s caress. It haunts me long after she’s gone, clouding my mind with visions of a future I have no business imagining.

When I open my eyes, the silence feels different. Something inside me, something dormant for two decades, sleeping in the forgotten corners of my soul, finally stirs. It rises with the certainty of something that has been waiting for this moment all along, and I know whatever this is, whatever she’s awakened in me, won’t rest until she is mine.

I don't understand what she is to me. I only know that when she walked away, she took some part of me with her. “I’ll find you,” I whisper into the empty room, where the echo of her presence still lingers.

Then I close the door.

Chapter

Two

Rose

My watch vibrates with a text from my friend, Lucinda, just as I asked. They're about five minutes away. They dropped me off at Dr. Flores' house about an hour ago while they grabbed groceries for our camping trip. We're heading to Gardner State Park to unwind before school starts again. It's our last chance this summer to be normal people our age.

Normal. The word doesn't sit right with me anymore. I've worn the mask for so long that I don't remember who I was before it. This trip is supposed to be an escape before another grueling year of medical school, yet even the thought of it feels like I'm stepping into someone else's life instead of my own.

Still, my thoughts aren't on the trip. I can feel him watching me. His unrelenting stare prickles across my skin like static before a storm. It burrows beneath the surface, impossible to ignore. I shift in my seat, pretending it doesn't affect me. It shouldn't. But it does, and I hate that. No one gets under my skin anymore. I made sure of that.

My face remains blank. The mask I built years ago holds, just as it always has. Silence was all I had as a helpless child left to the mercy of adults who should have protected me. Then came the anger directed at those who refused to help me. Except for him. He recognized the same kind of damage in me that lived in him. He didn't offer comfort or empty reassurances wrapped in pretty words. He acted. He rid the world of a waste of space. And for that, I will forever owe him. When no one else would help me, he did.

So I wear my armor. People think I’m cold and detached. They may be right in their assumptions. But they didn’t see what I saw. They didn’t live through what I did. They don’t understand what love becomes when it twists into control and when affection turns into fear. That lesson never left me. So I remind myself not to feel because feelings are the first crack in the armor. And I can’t afford cracks.

And yet now, being near him, having him look at me like he wants to consume me whole, makes my pulse betray me. Can he hear it? How loud it beats for him? Just thinking of the way his eyes held mine, the unspoken promise behind that stare, makes my body come alive after so long of feeling nothing.

Lucinda's car pulls into the driveway, breaking whatever had passed between us. I’m quick to slip from my seat, needing the distance before I forget why I came here in the first place. I was beginning to dissolve under Alex’s heated stare. My body was responding in ways I didn’t understand. I hope it wasn’t obvious, but when he says he’ll walk me out, my stomach drops. I say my goodbyes to the only people, besides my aunt, who ever cared enough to protect me. The urge to stay wars with the instinct to leave, pushing me forward before I can hesitate. Because I know that if I give in to this between us, it will ruin me in a way I won’t recover from.

When he has the audacity to say he wants to meet up at school, the image of the pink-haired girl running down his stairs flashes through my mind.

There is no doubt she was coming out of his bedroom. She had that thoroughly fucked look, and I can only hope I interrupted whatever they had going on. I stopped myself from inhaling as she passed, hoping she wasn’t carrying his scent with her.

I have no right to care. We've known each other for less than an hour. That realization irritates me almost as much as the jealousy itself. More than that, why do I even care? Does he think I'm a fool? The words that leave my mouth come from anger, though I don't understand why. He hasn't done anything wrong, but my heart doesn't want to take the risk. The clammy unease that follows tells me exactly why. He's dangerous in all the ways that matter.

He sees right through me and accepts the unspoken challenge. When he says she isn't his girlfriend, a brief wave of relief slips through before I can stop it. Somehow, that feels more intimate than if he'd kissed me, because I know he saw it. I hate myself for the momentary lapse in judgment. So I rebuild the wall, sealing every crack before anything else can slip through. I do what I do best. I push him away. I taunt him, but it only makes him smile.

That wicked smile spreads across his face, slashing at my heart and painting it in shades of sin. His tall frame looms closer, and for one fleeting second, I want to reach up and push back the strand of hair that’s fallen across his perfect face, just as he did to me. We are so in sync, I shudder. Instead, I step back, forcing distance between us despite what my body wants. He is dangerous. His shadows call to mine, whispering tendrils of pitch-black that speak of promises. As I walk away, I swear to do everything in my power to stay away from Alexander, even though part of me already wants a taste of his darkness.

The front storm door shuts behind me with finality, and I all but run away with a playful smile tugging at my lips. The sound echoes as I hurry down the sidewalk, desperate to get away from that house. But mostly to get away from him. Lucinda is in the driver’s seat, and Chelsea is riding shotgun. Maxwell sits in the back, holding the door open as I slide into the car’s cool interior. His eyes flick from my face to the house I just fled, then back again. There's curiosity in his stare, but it passes. Alex’s never did. He wants to ask. I can see it. But I don't owe him anything, and I think he knows that.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice flat, leaving no room for questions. Lucinda scoffs, but gets the hint, tossing a pack of Twizzlers into my lap before cranking the volume. Taylor Swift’s “The Fate of Ophelia” floods the car. Maxwell groans beside me, and the awkward moment dissolves, replaced by the anticipation of this much-needed escape before the grind of third-year medical school.

“Not again,” he mutters, and despite myself, a small laugh slips out. I still love the album, even having listened to it a hundred times. I tear open the pack of Twizzlers, pull one free, and twirl the red strand between my fingers. The waxy crimson catches the light. It’s my favorite color. It matches my lips, toes, and fingers. For a moment, I wonder if that’s a coincidence or fate.

I press the candy between my lips, aware of Maxwell watching me. He likes to watch. He thinks I don't notice. I’ve given him my body, but nothing more. I can feel his attention on me. When I glance over, Maxwell’s eyes are fixed on my mouth. Typical. His mind is already somewhere it shouldn’t be. I bite off the tip of the Twizzler slowly, and when his gaze drifts up to meet mine, I hold it, smiling knowingly. He swallows hard, adjusting himself as he looks away first. Satisfied, I turn back to the window, letting my attention drift to the passing scenery.